FOG

This world has become one filled with pain

The light of a once happy life

Is now shrouded in fog

The sweet days of holidays are long past

They are in reality just memories

 Tainted by the forgetfulness of the human mind

How many times during the year

Have hurts and mean words been uttered?

Cutting the fragile psyche of men, women and children

There is no denying that there were good times

In fact some great times but they pale

In the remembrance of the terrible times

MSM ©November 2014

Ghosts of Christmas

Through the years I have managed to get through day by day without thinking of anything related to the family.  Yes, there were times were certain things raised their ugly head but for the most part-I managed to smile.

Now, it was different.  I have been seized by the ghosts of Christmas past.  Memories of happier times bring tears to my eyes.  Those people no longer exist.  I wait for a glimmer of those ghosts to materialize but they do not.  Sadly, those people have turned into greedy selfish people.  The only care they have is the money-inheritance. 

I close my eyes to listen to the sounds as they play in my head.  The laughter of everyone as they put things together for Christmas; the grumbling of Dad as he examined each light bulb to make sure it lit; the smells coming from the kitchen as holiday treats were being baked or cooked; the smell of cinnamon in the air. I remember placing “footprints” in the sand of the Nativity behind the figurines; Dad coming over to smooth out the sand.  The season was really more his season than anyone I knew then.  What I most remember is the wonderful smell of the pine tree. 

The scene dissolves and another takes its place.  One of a snow covered valley with deer carefully making their way across.  It was a trip we had taken to Utah.  It was a very cold day; my daughter was young-6 yrs old I think.  She ran out into the field and suddenly-she disappeared!  My heart raced and I tried not to panic.  The snow was soft still as it was fresh fallen.  It made running a little difficult as you sank with each step.  I found the spot and I lay on the ground to reach her.  She was down too far-the snow was deep.  The fortunate thing was that there were some skiers who had witnessed the fall into the snow; they arrived to help as tears were falling down my face.  I was in a full blown panic.  They pulled my daughter out of that hole.  I am forever grateful to them. 

Breathing deeply, a certain memory comes up of five sisters walking in the mall.  Three in high school and two in college-all dressed alike.  I remember thinking “We must look like spoiled brats!” We all wore dark blue jeans, white shirts, white tennis shoes and the ever present designer bags. We did not walk in a group but rather in a line, people made way for us.  This memory is one of the few I have of my sisters.  I smile as it was a good day.

Another scene quickly takes its place.  This time it is my Mother-waiting for her children to arrive.  She waited a long time-not too different from the way Dad did in the year before his death.  The sounds of their crying between the looks they gave to the things around them.  I hated them then-now I just pity them.  As pictures fading with time-they too faded away. 

Where did they go?  What happened?  I have no idea.  The loss I am feeling is tremendous-a bottomless abyss.  A blanket of insurmountable sadness wraps itself around me.

The house is dark with no holiday lights, no wreath-no Christmas tree.  Holiday music is not allowed to be played as it only adds to the sadness; the bitterness in the air is tangible-thick.  I am alone waiting for my turn to fade.

©MSM DECEMBER 2013

Valentine's Day

She missed the scent of the flowers that were delivered as a “surprise”; along with the small surprises of chocolates - and the cards.  Oh yes, those cards.  Cards filled with sentiments of “I love you!” or crazy comic messages hiding the blush of first love.  She had a box of memories somewhere – she just could not remember where. 

All around her there were the signs of the coming holiday-Valentine’s Day.  In years past there was no shortage of flowers and cards but those have slowly trickled down to nothing.  She did not begrudge those who sent nor those who received.  She was happy for them.

The sun felt good against her skin.  It made her drowsy.  She must have drifted off because when she woke there were strangers sitting with her.  They were all smiling and one was crying.  They brought her flowers – and chocolates!

Her daughter tried to hide her tears but could not.  The woman seated in front of her was not the woman she knew as Mom.  Alzheimer’s has slowly taken that woman away.  A small part of her was still seen in the pleasure she took when she saw the flowers and the chocolates.

©2011 feb/cb

Seeds Of Discontent

There are whispers in the dark; “What are you doing here?”

Playing with my mind; floating behind my eyes

Sometimes it is hatred coating levels of love in shades of grey

Seeds of discontentment; wasted shafts of wheat

“Who am I?”I beg the shadows in a trembling voice

Silence greets my queries; my soul trembles inside

My regrets – those mistakes are taking on a life of their own

Leaving me with increasing anguish over decisions long past

Traveling further along memory lane; here I see the wreckage

Parts discarded while some others were used to build something new

A psychological wasteland; haunting vibrations are still felt

My heart trembles at the memories; my mouth dries out

“It’s a way of life” says a whispered voice

I turn quickly but see only a faint shadow fleeing

My heroes have turned to dust; were they ever really here?

The memories are piling up now; headstones of days gone by

“Remember the rules of engagement” another voice urges

My forehead forming into wrinkles of concentration

The road is dusty now; in a state of disrepair

Breathing the musty air; memories now very vague

My steps are shorter now; my mind becomes weary

There is tightness in my chest building

Something is very near; breathing is difficult

My fear starts to increase as rusted fences start to appear

“Come closer, you are almost there” that voice now sounds so familiar

Pushing hard against that fence; the lock finally pops

The shadows part as fog when the sun hits it; leaving me stunned

It seemed that with the passing years – it has grown!

Limbs in the color of dark mahogany; gnarled and twisted

Decaying leaves all around; the odor increasing in putrid smell

Voices now were clamoring inside my head; “Run! Run!”

My feet were made of clay; my body and mind frozen in but a second

It took me into its darkness; now I became its victim once again

The tree from which my discontent was born; those vile seeds from days past

Wrapped its horny limbs around me; cradled me to sleep

My doom was met; my fate was sealed by those seeds of discontent

© 2010 14 september/cb

The Music Box

Holding the music box from long ago

The music within still plays as if new

Bringing back the past in a rush

Remembering the times we were close

Reading old cards filled with loving prose

Feeling the warmth from long ago

The music box continues to play

Inside the treasures are kept

Brittle and fragile-still they hold magic

Memories precious beyond worth

Whirling in my mind as I watch

The ballerina as she turns and turns

The music ingrains itself in my mind

Flower fragrances penetrating my senses

The clink of crystal glasses and whispered love

Yes they are only memories

A comforting gift in the middle of the night

Still bringing smiles and remembered joy

With gentle care I close the lid to the music box

Closing my eyes as the glow of candles softly light the night

Wishing those days from long ago here again

© 2010 30 june/cb

The Red Knight

Let me

Tell you all about

The RED knight....

Sir Mentor by name



He lived in a forest

Dark and dreary

There he rested

This knight of old



His people knew him simply

As Mentor

But the world called him

The Red Knight



He came back to rest

Did not think he was needed

He put his armor away

All set to spend his last days

Being a farmer in the Avy Nation



Little did he know

He would be called again

To defend the weak

The poor and the innocent



This knight braved

Many a war

The Pinch-Poke War

Was the last one known



There he fought bravely

Suffering horrible pain

Ribs hurting...his ears taking

Bearing some horrible scars...



Defending womanhood

Old or young...

Fought the dragons of injustice...

Valiant and courteous was this Avy Nation knight

He did have one flaw

This knight of old

A temper which sometimes

Cost him remorse and pain



This was balanced

By the heart within

Made of precious Gold

Filled with sweetness inside!



Small children approached with caution

Only to have this knight play

Giving them candy as laughter rang

Loudly in this quiet village



This knight of kindness

Always made time to listen

Especially those

Who had no friends at all!



Mentor

Had a devastating smile

A rapier wit

He was much loved by all!



Today, The Red Knight

Was called once again

Mayhap for the last time

Alert and awake



He jumped upon

His trusty black stallion

His armor shined brightly

As he guided his steed

With but his knees



Away he galloped

Lance in place

Sword at his side

Alive he was once again!



His armor shown red as blood

His diamond stud gleaming in his ear

His steed stood as proud he

Stepping large for all to see



The people of Avy Nation

Watched him speed off

Children cried

Maids and matrons too

The men watched with hats off



Into the sunset

He rode

Off to war again



When will he return

It is anyone’s guess

He comes when he is needed

And goes where he must



Disappear he would

Until he is done

He will be back

When the task is done



It is said

When in need

Simply whisper

"Mentor...need your help!"



Soon he will appear

Red armor bright

Diamond stud gleaming

To help you in your plight!











© 2008 7 apr/cb

 
*walking down memory lane but i like this story! 

The Mentorini

The MENTORINI

Such a sensation

Quite a concoction!



Shaken?

Stirred?

Maybe STRAIGHT-UP!



What would your choice be here?

The effects are

Quite... unexpected!



The ingredients

Can set you flying

Or can sit you down!



Add a little Houdini...

Some charm...A devastating smile

And yes...add some RED!



Yes...

The MENTORINI



A delectable

Delicious

Concoction indeed!!



So which would it be?

Which way would you like it?



Shaken?

Stirred?

Or

Straight-up???







© 2008 5 apr/cb

 
*dedicated to a dear friend-Brandon aka Mentor

Fading

Dreams; nothing more than memories

The things we did; of what we planned

The murmuring of all the endearments

Soft laughter full of sensual meaning

Eyes sparkling in the light of the moon



Each moment is treasured; each emotion catalogued

The pleasures, the disagreements, the reunions

Each word full of flavor with all its nuances

Love in all its glory; compassion and pitfalls

Even anger and disappointment; communication rectified



Dreams; these memories are fragile in this condition

Writing fades upon parchment; turning into dust

Visual views of these pages are limited

The sands of time-whatever that reality is

Cannot be held by the flesh of my hands



Be in my dreams forever as the reality

Makes no sense in the light of day

The granules of time; like sand

Seems to slip between my fingers

Leaving me with empty hands



Keep me in forever; where we will always be happy

Where the flames of love and affection will never fade

Demons and angels accompany us; that too is real there

Our dreams will be continue therein; never false

Hold me tight; my dreams are fading fast...













© 2010 30 may/cb

Ghosts

My dreams are filled

With the visions of you

Times of laughter and conversation

They are filled

With all the innocent touches between us

The warmth and spontaneity

With you all became an adventure

A world filled with explorations

Times of excitement and laughter

The times of sensuality

Filled with sensitivity and tenderness

Lust filled adventures driving us both wild

This was us and more, so much more

We melded in mind, spirit and heart

You were my encouragement

When guidance was needed

Your wisdom was sought

Even though sometimes we fought

Now you have become a ghost

Not of my choosing, a whisper of the past

It is slowly killing me, I am dying

© 2010 apr 27/cb