If you have time please visit my new publication by peer review journal.
A dedication to my friends, Mary Phillips, Susan Caruso, Joy Nowlen, who lost their battle with breast cancer. Honoring all this month “Breast Cancer Awareness Month.”
My Gaelic daughter,
A child of grace.
A spirited heart,
An angelic face.
Fears of a mother
Go ahead of her steps.
No greater joy,
Her pain is kept.
Walk among the clover,
Feed under the thatch.
Angels go as you rover .
A lassie of no match.
Copyrighted © 2018 CMM
autumnal Equinox gently arrives
warmth of the summer lost in the skies
Burnt orange and red are made of your dress
A sigh of relief now we will soon rest
From a summer of drought and too little rain
We will put it behind us; wait for seasons to change
Copyright © CMM 2018
Mounting Pegasus under morning night,
we take to wings of running flight.
Among stars and constellations,
entered in morning night.
A falling star drops just ahead,
a silent wish is quickly said.
Into the mystic morning show,
Pegasus and I have nothing to dread.
Heralded by seagulls awaking,
the birds in faint light start taking.
To song and flutter as we pass,
all a part of the morning making.
This runner’s flight crossed into light
from a mystic morning flight.
Pegasus and I ride into red glow
dripping sun just in sight.
copyright: CMM 2010
If I could pick up the pieces
and build a bridge from me to you,
we’d brush our hair with scents of yesterday’s living,
color our lips with stains of mauve secrets.
There would be miles of many years,
across miles of tears and sacred truths.
We’d hang the railings with aprons tied together,
and our bras that covered our bosoms of nurturing souls.
Bridging over rivers from birthing beds wet with sweat and fluids from the womb,
we would cry the storms with tears of sorrow, spring rains with tears of joy.
If I could pick the pieces of all our pain and build the hopes with the strength remain,
we would hear the chorus of all before us and harmony welcome those to come.
Brown aroma filters through
the porcelain pot wrapped in
a holiday Christmas print
Tied at the top with a green ribbon.
Pouring into the cup the sound
of generations past of many pourings,
expressed within generations,
a knowing of shared time.
The warmth of the spiced tea
brought smiles caused by conversations,
of simpler relationships in an eloquent
fluent exchange of Christmas gentility.
Christmas 2013 copyrighted: CMM
to ride off from the cold sun of winter’s promise.
Is it cold that slows the squirrel’s journey up
or their strife of yesterday’s feast of stowed summers.
The nip of hope, and the sting from the unknown,
stand as cold air in a windless day of frozen temperatures.
Yet, the move of the hours will re-ignite the heavenly stars
biding rest to the weary feeling full of the day’s survival.
Copyrighted: CMM 2009
© CMM 2012