Behind the Mask


I hide behind a plastic smile
and try to cheerful be.
I never take my mask off
lest you my soul should see.

I practice the stiff upper lip
not to deceive nor harm
but playing stoic is an act
my one and only charm.

So please don’t be offended if
my smile come’s off lame
this plastic smile’s all I have
depression is to blame.

cdm 5/23/16


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My Porch

English cottage garden

My cousin built a porch for me
she built it in one day.
Simply to make me smile’s what
her actions seemed to say.

She measured, sawed and leveled it
then nailed it safe and snug.
She gave a whole day of her life,
all for a cousin’s hug.

I haven’t seen her for some time
I miss her you may guess.
But ev’ry time I see my porch
her memory I bless.

cdm 5/22/16


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A Message on the Wind

train 3

The GOP is questioning
what’s happening to our base?
Why do they choose an outsider
for this presidential race?

Where do I begin to tell you
what has brought us to this place
that many think it’s far past time;
the Grand old Party’s replaced.

We worked and prayed and gave money
gained the senate and the house.
Expecting now the promises
we would finally espouse.

We watched the sessions on the floor
one and all with bated breath.
Only to see our hopes dashed as
you trampled them all to death.

You expect a lifetime payment
and seldom show up to work.
Allow the passing of pork bills
your duty to us you shirk.

“Just work and pay your taxes, for
you know we represent you.”
You really think us all stupid,
believing what you say’s true.

Hey, there is a strange wind blowing
can you hear the roaring sound?
The heartland is awakening
to Washington we are bound.

To deliver a message of
our raw disgust and outrage,
to let you know once and for all
it is time to turn the page.


cdm 4/14/16


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Is he Wright’s chicken coming home
to America to roost?
Perhaps the gate-keeper from hell
satan’s legions to unloose.

 Either way one things for certain;
Obama’s not on our side.
In every possible way
common sense he has denied.

He has divided all semblance
of one nation under God;
disregards our Constitution
onto which he runs roughshod.

The ‘Divider in Chief’ is how
we all will sadly recall;
how he had promised ‘hope and change’
but brought bitterness and gall.

Wants to transform our great nation
more like Cuba and Fidel;
but much to his disdain they said,
“Hey Obama go to hell!”

“We remember the embargo
can’t forget the Bay of Pigs;
when your nation had a leader
his red lines, he’d not renege.”

Seems that communist think clearer
than the average liberal.
Obama’s Legacy will read
‘Presidency of a fool.’

cdm 3/29/16


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Shaft’s Shadow

American tragedy


Attempts  walking in the shadow
of a man known as ‘Shaft’
epitome of cool from the;
old-time seventies draft.

To cool to ever bother with
an Isis massacre.
So even human decency
to underlings defer.

So he’ll wave along with Raoul
while at the baseball game;
then take both planes to Argentine
poor people bear the blame.

It’s their ‘heat source’ and way of life
causing global warming.
Not private jets two at a time
nor excessive blabbing.

Nero played while Rome was burning
not so in Chicago;
no time to learn an instrument
tries dancing the Tango.

So all of these examples are
aimed to display his cool.
Sorry Mister Obama to
poor folks you play the fool.

cdm 3/25/16


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Touched by Madness

In the winding wood’s of Carolina;
There on pathway’s up and down.
Nestled neath the pines and green fronds.
He said our bodies would be found.

One hand held a pint of moonshine.
The other bore a twenty-two.
Hours of marching as he taunted.
His threats had always proven true.

He needed no excuse for madness.
His madness came and went with time.
A word, a look, or passing fancy.
There seemed no reason nor any rhyme.

Mother hid me behind her body.
Staying between he and I.
Saying,”Kill me if you must kill someone,
she’s just thirteen and too young to die.”

I walked pretending I was elsewhere.
Crying prayer’s out silently.
Knowing if he killed my Mother.
He’d turn the gun and then kill me.

Then just as quickly as it started;
He’d proved his point and he was done.
Said,” Let’s get home and fix some supper.”
Went to the truck and slid away the gun.

You wonder why I’m most times weary.
Or seem to write from some dark place.
This is just a page out of my history.
Once touched by madness; it leaves a trace.

                              c.d.m. 5-25-11

[46 years after the fact]


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Hillary’s Train

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News Flash

News Flash
What would you do for a Klondike bar?
Or the equivalent of the day?
I guess it depends on ‘who’ you ask,
and whoever is at the soiree.

Dennis Rodman is one such fellow,
flew to North Korea on a lark.
Came back with praise for kim Jong-un, not
people die to feed that fat monarch.

Sean Penn for the sake of relevance,
ran down to love on Hugo Chaves.
Now he’s holding hands with el Chapo,
he’d do anything to get some press.

Now the case of Angela’s minions,
millions she’s let enter Germany.
They cover up the rapes of women,
seems politics trump people to me.

Now for the worst case; of Obama
his only concern; his legacy.
He wants to bring his minions here now,
to take our guns, and let them run free.

Bad news could get worse; I hate to say
worse would be ‘President’,  Hillary.
We’d not have a chance of survival;
‘tween the minions, and first dude ‘Billy.’
c.d.m. 1/10/15


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In a world turned upside down
where victims are forgotten.
Series crusade criminals
and justice has no patron.

How could we be so callous
to believe this; to be right?
A murderers defended,
we forget the victim’s plight.

In a world turned upside down.
where eleven hours seem hard.
Explain that to those victims
of a thirteen hour bombard.

This world needs to be righted
so remember that this fall,
vote for those who’ll  try to get
Humpty Dumpty ON the wall.

c.d.m. 1/8/16

to be continued,,



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The Shallow End

wed. pink lillys 016

I sought you out in the shallow end
you do not wade out in the deep.
You seek today for a plastic friend
to come and go; not one to keep.

You bare a painted on, smile these days
it fools those passing through your life.
Casual acquaintance one and all
none caring your heart’s rife with strife.

Each looking for a jolly time which,
your opaque shell; can now reflect.
With none watching how a crack has formed
your heart laid bare, your soul unchecked.

A shallow pool you’ve chosen to swim
thinking your safe from pain and harm.
Taking no note of those floating by
shallow deceit, waits to disarm.

c.d.m.  1/2/16


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The Dog Fight

boo hoo

Well the dogs have begun to fight amongst themselves
it’s a sight for the nation to behold.
Al Sharpton’s going after Rahm Emanuel
that’s like the pot thinking it’s; made of gold.

Double opportunists wrestling for the main stage
neither knowing; the theaters on fire.
They have used and abused, this nation all along
only concern was; what they could acquire.

It’s only the beginning; watch and see what’s next
they’ll find we’re not as stupid as they thought.
They’ve been the fox in the henhouse many years now;
but surprise! That old fox has now been caught!

I predict the pendulum is just about to swing
they’ve pushed us ’bout as far as we can go.
The ‘left’ is gonna have a rude awakening.
Grab a seat, and sit back and watch the show.
c.d.m. 12/29/15

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Posted by on December 29, 2015 in ohio poets, poetry, politics, Society, Uncategorized, Writing


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Believe in Santa




What’s wrong with believing in Santa Clause?
Or other sweet dreams of childhood?
I think if more grown-ups still held out hope;
for all of us it would be good.

There’s so much that’s harsh in this big old world;
dear Santa might soften things up.
Beginning with hearts that wrote Santa off;
when children turned into grown-ups.

See old hearts don’t shine with the Christmas light;
at least not like young hearts shine through.
I think grown-ups should believe in Santa,
may brighten us up if we do.




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The Wall


Have you found yourself confined by
unseen walls of your own device?
Needing freed from block and mortar
pressing more each day like a vise.

Thinking another’s created
the cell you now find yourself in.
Then comes the realization
your cells design flowed from within.

The first course set to repel pain,
another to block out despair.
Layers rise higher and higher
protection becoming a snare.

Building your tower of freedom
from pain, disappointment and strife;
somehow not realizing, that
your walls also kept you from life.

Now safe within the walls you hear;
the voices of old enemies.
All walled up, right there beside you
and that’s where they’ll always be.

cdm 12/23/15

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Posted by on December 23, 2015 in angels, ohio poets, poetry, Society, Uncategorized, Writing


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We have no confidence in you;
Madame ‘would be’ president.
You’ve lied and forced yourself on us
and that was, without consent.

You covered up Benghazi for
just a chance to run once more;
without a thought for the lives lost.
You are rotten to the core!

You had the nerve to ask of us,
“What difference does it make?”
Dancing around the questions asked,
as regret you tried to fake.

Since I was a child I’ve watched,
 you manipulate the crowd.
Declaring ‘Billy’s innocence,
dared to hold your head up proud.

Throwing his victims ‘neath the bus
so your wheels could get traction.
I mention a few charges and;
this is a tiny fraction.

You lied about the e-mails that,
told of your heartless neglect.
Now you would insult us all by
denying our intellect.

I hope you’re stripped of dignity
if you ever had a shred;
and pay the price for years of lies,
and Benghazi’s vile bloodshed.

cdm 12/20/15


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English cottage garden

‘You cannot take the other’s place’
words I once spoke in haste.
Now that your gone, I find I wish
those words I could replace.

I hope somehow, somewhere out there
that you hear what I say.
Your place cannot be taken and
I’ll miss you ev’ry day.

I’ve learned a vital lesson; one
I hope not to forget.
Life’s short we must watch what we say,
so we won’t have regret.


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The Abyss


The dangers of the black abyss
objects; unseen, unheard.
Can hinder footing in the dark
amidst the waste cluttered.

For whirling there in blackness are
the pain of years gone by;
generational waste, passed to
the next one as they die.

So on and on the starved black hole
consumes more life each day,
and those trapped in the vast wasteland
become no more than prey.

There are no cries heard from that void
the darkness ate their voice.
imploding into emptiness
without knowledge of choice.

One can’t fill the black abyss’
unknown capacity,
for into self it draws and draws
to feed the beast’s belly.

Yet Light has come and reached out to
all those trapped by this beast.
From darkness you can reach out and
from blackness be released.

c.d.m. 12/17/15


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What would you have done differently,
had you known yesterday?
What memories would you have made
and what words would you say?

In all the worlds blessings there’s
one thing truly sublime;
the most precious commodity
a moment of your time.

Time is here and then it’s gone and
it won’t return again.
So if you truly love someone,
then give time to your friend.
cdm 12/ 15/ 15

For Beth


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The Crusaders

crescent moon Read the rest of this entry »


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American tragedy

What part of ‘Don’t Tread upon Us,’
do you refuse to understand?
Why do you think you can treat us;
with such a cruel and heavy hand?

How do you, fail to comprehend
that we are the crucial, backbone?
Without us; you’re a big nothing
and that’s a nothing, all alone.

Don’t you recall, old Boston’s port?
What we did; as a last resort.
We spoke out very loud and clear,
‘You can’t rule us from over there!’

You do the same as old KIng George;
taking our tax, with no reward.
Think you share in; his mind’s disease.
Dismiss, distance and disregard.

We’ve voted left, and voted right,
expecting ‘change’ to bring us some.
Still we receive, the same old same
you eat as Kings; we get the crumb.

Our backs can’t carry burdens more,
welfare, immigrants, working poor.
Plus keep YOU in your castles grand,
we’re speaking; you don’t understand!

cdm 12/ 12/ 15


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Cool McCool


Cool McCool meandered out on the stage
declared, ‘America has turned a page!
I will give you things, you have never had.’
What he failed to say was this; ‘All Things Bad.’

If he opened his mouth, a lie flew out.
On America’s faith, he would sow doubt.
Declaring right is wrong; and up is down.
The mesmerized crowd never made a sound.

Eventually bad things come to an end.
As lies were exposed, folks couldn’t pretend.
They saw that ‘Cool McCool’ was just a sham.
That ‘Hope and Change’ was a horrible scam.

When they beheld the King’s, naked behind,
they felt like fools, how had they been so blind?
Should’ve seen he was a joke, from the start,
not let false accusations, blind their heart.

Cool like Sammy Davis, or Steve McQueen,
the naked King for all the world would preen.
A tomato hit him, at center stage,
then he saw the blind fools were in a rage.

Cool McCool’s reign, came to a ‘hopeless’ end
as into despair his soul would descend.
Leaving the castle, he could not dispel;
that Nixon received a kinder farewell.
cdm 12/11/15



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Front Page News

NYposts lie

You sit in your ivory tower
looking down on the rest of us.
Declaring how ‘God is useless’ and
our faith somehow proves it is thus.

Trying to blame the working man for
the chaos the liberals chose.
Telling the world God won’t answer prayer
‘gun control’ will answer all woes.

Believing yourselves superior
thus you mock us from your front-page.
When you go down the drain as others;
perhaps then you’ll grasp our outrage.

Your tower won’t be so pretty when
the terrorists get through with you.
Don’t ask us to pray or grab our guns,
we’re too stupid to know what to do.

cdm 12/3/15


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The Blitz

the blitz

You cannot appease a bully
so please folks accept this fact.
Can’t change the mind of terrorists,
with satan they’ve made a pact.

They only live; to kill and die
to maim and destroy as well.
You cannot reason with madness
that flows from the pits of hell.

Call it simple work place anger
from bias, et cetera.
Blame it on, America’s guns
not far left Islam’s dogma.

You cowards with evil intent
want a one world government.
You think to dis-arm us,
cause you cannot charm us.
You think us all malcontents.

So wake up America; there’s
an enemy in our midst.
Try’s to deceive, make us believe
it’s not an Islamic blitz.

cdm 12/3/15



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My Friend

hen and chicks

When left out on the streets alone
Lord, you were always there.
When no one else was listening
with You Lord, I could share.

Sometimes I leave that girl behind
forget how life was then.
When I felt oh so lonely and
You were my only Friend.

I want to thank You one more time
before I lapse once more,
my faithful Friend, Who took my hand
and changed me evermore.

cdm 11/20/15

Oh Jerusalem, how oft I would have gathered you as a hen gathers her chicks.

[ words of Jesus]


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The Holidays

christmas decorations

Another holiday alone
leads one to take a pause;
to ponder over days gone by
and wonder at the cause.

I always thought I leant myself
to others needs and cares.
Perhaps I just deceived myself
with well wishes and prayers.

But hey, there is still life to live
and time to make a change.
So next year I won’t be alone
a party I’ll arrange.

I’ll start tomorrow getting out
to make some friends anew,
tomorrow or the next day that’s
perhaps what I will do.
c.d.m. 11/17/15

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Posted by on November 25, 2015 in family, life stories, ohio poets, poetry, Society, Writing


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La-la Land

English cottage garden

Strange how the mind can trick us to
believe deceit and lies.
Excusing the offenders when
the truth we realize.

I guess believing more lies seems
to ease the pain we feel.
Cause ‘La-la Land’ is kinder than
the cold hard truth that’s real.

I guess you meant more to me then
I ever meant to you.
To face that cold reality
is what I must now do.

It won’t be easy, I know that
I’ve tried for years  I vow,
that I am leaving ‘La-la Land’
my journey begins now.

cdm 11/20/15

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Posted by on November 20, 2015 in angels, family, life stories, old barns, poetry, Society, Writing


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Excuse Me

Mountain Healer

If we lived in a gentler time
my words would kinder be.
The harshness of terrain these days
can get the best of me.

So please excuse the coarseness of
my language now and then,
I only mean to speak my mind
and never to offend.

The writing lets the steam off so
I don’t explode; for real!
Believe me I hold most inside
else volumes I would fill.



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An Answer to Obama and Shep Smith


Excuse us Sir, if we say ‘pass’
not welcome to the masses.
As they slip through the net YOU threw
to; come kill our asses.

How stupid do you think we are?
Not half as dumb as you.
We won’t sit down with snakes to eat,
because YOU tell us to.

Listen to Trump and others and
just aid them over there.
Cause from their midst come murderers
and we don’t need them here.

cdm 11/17/15


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Take The Helm


When Peewee Herman’s at the helm
all nerves are set on edge.
World feels like a teeter totter
that dangles on a ledge.

Voice your concern and Tiny Tim’s
in a world-wide melt down.
The fact that any question him
makes Timmy scowl and frown.

Each point of disagreement draws
the race card from the deck.
With Peewee Herman at the helm
our angst predicts shipwreck.

But there’s a Captain on the rise
to take the helm in hand.
Perhaps he’ll guide our battered ship
from storm-tossed sea to land.

cdm 11/17/15


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Dead at Heart


How could it be that I grieve so
yet you never remember me?
Try to move on, forward not back
but my head and heart can’t agree.

How’s one pretend, it matters not?
One half of a whole’s still the same.
Missed that class in the school of life.
I flinch each time I hear your name.

What made your heart grow cold and hard?
How do you take a breath these days?
You now exist, while dead at heart
as the smile on your face displays.

cdm 11/13/15


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Grow Up Quentin


Quentin Tarantino,
what’s the matter with you?
Tell me what is that
makes you do what you do.

You make ‘would be’ movies
with no reason or rhyme.
None that have a moral;
only glorify crime.

Your soul is so twisted
it’s effected your face.
Now you’re out mouthing off
it’s a total disgrace.

Laying blame on the ones
who protect us each day.
Who’s the idiot that’s
telling you what to say?

No truth in your words and
no facts can you provide.
Just running your mouth on
the false accusers side.

You need to go home ask
your family to forgive,
Next time you call for help
then maybe you will live.


cdm 11/5/15


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Harry’s Legacy


Well you’ve broken my heart, sweet Harry
by saying you will not run again.
To speak sentiments very clearly
to this paper I have put my pen.

You’ve lied and connived your whole ‘career’
while creating this ‘progressive’ trend,
a dream coming true, living to see
your tyrannical reign finally end.

You have led the charge ever bravely
to knock all the ‘right’ out of the way.
By hook and by crook you determined
you would cripple our nation some day.

Now you are done, so you’re going home
reap richly of that, which you have sown.
May every stray dog in Nevada
cock its leg on ‘old Harry’s’ headstone.

c.d.m. 3/27/15

bye-bye Harry

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Posted by on November 4, 2015 in life stories, ohio poets, poetry, Society, Writing


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Shake It Off


If there is a God in heaven,
then here is what He’ll do.
He’ll make a special place in hell
Hillary just for you.

Not only will He make it a
well deserving abode.
He’ll shorten your life on this earth
to give you, all you’re owed.

I do believe in Karma and,
a God upon His throne.
So I await your judgement in
His fire and brimstone.

So go ahead and smile like;
you have done nothing wrong.
When God judge’s for Benghazi
you’ll sing a diff’rent song.

You won’t be singin ‘Shake It off’
cause it will stick like glue.
A fitting end is what you’ll reap
a special hell for you.

c.d.m. 10/22/15

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Posted by on October 23, 2015 in ohio poets, open door, poetry, Society, Uncategorized


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Quibble squabble, spit and spat.

faded glory

Eeny meeny miny moe
safest bet is Uncle Joe.
Murderer or socialist,
settle for the nations Jest.

You ask,” Why a democrat?”
I would love to address that.
The ‘Right’s’ grown so far apart,
lost before the battle’s start.

I want this! I must have that!
Quibble squabble, spit and spat.
My picks not in! My picks out!
Think I’ll just stay home and pout!

He said this, and she did that!
Quibble squabble, spit and spat.
Steady feast of news and net,
source of angst; result regret.

Eeny meeny miny moe
safest bet is Uncle Joe.
Murderer or socialist,
settle for the nations Jest.

10/10/15 cdm


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The Fix


 I’ve seen a sadness in your eyes
that breaks my heart to see.
Yet all the while you try to hide
your feelings far from me.

We’ve known each other far too long
to hide such emotion.
So I’ve laid my pen to paper to;
rid you of that toxin.

The words, “I’m sorry,” aren’t hard,
I’ve said it many times.
If you would try it; you would find
the joy of our pastimes.

I would, if I thought it could change
the wrong that you have done.
But it’s your turn to scale the walls
to see this wrong undone.

8/27/15 c.d.m.

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Posted by on August 27, 2015 in angels, family, life stories, ohio poets, poetry, Writing


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The End

A Mommy somewhere is crying
a child’s alone tonight
A mate tries to face tomorrow
while Dad sheds tears out of sight.

One mourns a friend gone forever
someones plan seems to be lost.
There’s none left untouched by warfare,
while too many count the cost.

Since time began, it has been so
bullets or words start the fight.
The end result remains the same
someone is crying tonight.


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Hear US Roar


What is it you wait for; our question to you?
When will you get to, what we sent you to do?
We sent money, made phone calls, voted and prayed,
and wait to behold all the dragons you’ve slayed.

Why in DC, are promises forgotten;
alliances made, allegiances boughten?
While we who have sent you,fight off unbelief
refusing to see, you will not send relief.

We gave you the congress, the senate floor too
yet still you sit silent refusing to do
what we the people have fought to deliver;
power to take back our land from the fakir*.

McConnell and Boehner to name just a few
have forsaken the faithful,sad but it’s true.
Though I’m but one voice, I hope that you hear me,
for soon you will hear the roar of the many.


*A fakir, or faqir, derived from faqr,
is a Muslim Sufi ascetic in the Middle East and South Asia.
The faqirs were wandering Dervishes
teaching Islam and living on alms.


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Fresh Start


To start from the beginning
is difficult at best.
At least it’s cost me nothing
my hard drive laid to rest.

Baby steps come one by one
as we begin once more.
Jewel and I, are back in tune
poetry to explore.

Four long months; have crept on by
since she took a nose dive.
No keyboard to write upon
no files to archive.

Now Jewel has a new hard drive
and I have found notepad.
I lay fingers on the keys
is this poem really bad?

cdm 7/25/15


Posted by on July 25, 2015 in humor, life stories, ohio poets, open door


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A Word for Christians Suffering around the World


The First Martyr’s Testimony

Stephen lived sometime ago
in a land of great turmoil.
When those in power served themselves
the mass’ were their spoil.

So as others all around him
Stephens hopes grew very dim.
Til the day he heard Yeshua speak
and hope revived in him.

He was tried; as conflict rose
from those he’d known the best.
But his Saviour’s all consuming love
withstood with ease that test.

With joy and great conviction
he would daily testify.
Til the maddened unbelievers
screamed out Stephen you must die.

With every blow the life ebbed from
his broken earthly form.
Yet his “spirit man”, ascended
dancing high above the storm.

Stephen sang out, “I see Jesus,
mercy Father” was his cry.
The grace in his heart touched the hearts
of some who had stood by.

Today we often hear the tales
of little bodies broken.
While witness’ recount the scene
defence is left unspoken.

Does Jesus’ words still transform
the hearts and lives of men?
Have we enough of Christ in us;
to live and die as Him?

book of Acts 6:5—7:54-60                                      C.D.M. 2009


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Easter Morning [from my friend]


Easter Morning

“The Easter Bunny came,” he cried
without  a trace someone had lied.
“Yes my son the rabbit came,
but we both know it’s just a game.”
” Can we go to hunt the Easter eggs,
when we get dressed?” the small one begs.
“Yes we shall but first let’s pray
It’s more than ‘just’ a holiday.”

“The Easter bunny’s not the one
who gave me you my only son.”
“He’s too small to understand,”
Grandma said patting my hand.
“The Easter bunny is all he knows,
he’ll learn the truth as he grows.”

All though my Mother raised me well,
I did stumble and I fell.
I want to do the best I can,
to raise this boy to a wise old man.

Suddenly a soft voice said,
as if He was inside my head,
“If the boy learns on his own,
too many years he’ll walk alone.
Time and truth are best at hand,
to raise your boy to a wise old man.
For if he is wisest of them all
all will stumble, all will fall.”

Connie Jean VanMatre  Easter 1980
[from front page of Perry County Tribune]


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VLUU L100, M100  / Samsung L100, M100

Almost two years have come and gone
without a word between us two.
I ponder do you think of me
as I so often think of you.

I can’t believe the bond we shared
could be destroyed on such a whim.
That life goes on empty and bare
as memories have now grown dim.

To throw away a lifetime shared
seems to me; to be such a shame.
For passing fancies of the day
I bear the brunt of all the blame.


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Posted by on February 7, 2015 in family, life stories, ohio poets, poetry, Writing


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The Promise


I heard geese flying over
in the sky today.
It was like Mother nature
was trying to say,
“Cheer up little girl on
this blustery day,
I promise you that spring time
is well on its way!”

cdm 1/26/15


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The Shepherd of the Spotted Lamb


Cold and shivering, he came forth,
into this world that night.
his  breath of life shone clearly
in the moon’s cascading light.
His Mother gently loving him
her darling baby boy,
his spots did not disquiet her
nor steal that Mother’s joy.

The Shepherd checked in on them
just before the break of dawn.
The spotted lamb was nursing,
shaking legs he stood upon.
The shepherd knew the value
of his herd had just went down.
For spotted lambs, went cheaply
at the market sale in town.

Cold and shivering, He came forth
into this world that night.
His  Breath of Life, shone clearly
in the moon’s cascading light.
His Mother, gently loving Him
Her darling Baby Boy.
There He laid; The Spotless Lamb
Source of Eternal Joy.

The shepherds came to worship
called by Angel’s; from above.
There in a lowly manger
they beheld; the Father’s Love.
The value of the spotted lambs
was costly; now they knew,.
The Spotless, came as ransom
for the spotted; me and you.

c.d.m.  9-29-10

For there is not one without sin, or spot amongst us, thank God for the good Shepherd.


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Home for Christmas


No home to go to for Christmas,
more than just the homeless can tout.
There’s other’s alone on Christmas;
so that’s what this short poem’s about.

Many my age do get lonely
especially at this time of year.
As children grow-up and marry
and parents must move to the rear.

I made those choices long ago.
That’s when I decided to stay;
at home with my kids for Christmas.
So kids with the new toys could play.

Now years later, too late I fear;
I think that I made a mistake.
I should have went home for Christmas.
Home’s one place we should not forsake.

Now there is no ‘ home’ to go to,
for mother and dad have passed on.
Sadly I taught my own children;
and my chance to go home is gone.

            c.d.m.  12/ 24/13


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A Tale of Christmas Eve, by a friend

T’christmas decorations

T’was Christmas eve with no snow on the way
Grandma and Grandpa had called it a day.
There was he in his boxers and her in a gown
they’d turned off the TV and went to lay down.

When out in the driveway they heard a loud clatter;
doors slamming and lots of voices in chatter.
Looked from window to cold ground below,
to see their children with grandkids in tow.

Gramps rushed to the door ‘fore they tried old keys,
from a long-lost time when they were kiddies.
“Surprise they shouted while coming in view;
our presence’s our Christmas present to you.”

Go to Facebook and your eyes will behold
Grandma and Grandpa looking tired and old.
In gowns, no make-up, no teeth, messy hair
please delete that finger that’s up in the air.

                                                                          Connie J. VanMatre 12/24/13


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Michele Genee 1973

I once had a friend, Michele Genee was her name.
She watched my back, for her I did the same.
We lived out in the streets, some how we always got by.
But it really was a miracle, we both didn’t die.

We worked by day, wnd we partied by night.
We helped each other out, and we seldom had a fight.
We really tore up the streets, of old Akron town.
The life that we led made, both our mama’s frown,.

I bet your wonderin what happened to, Michele Genee.
Why it is in the past-tense, that you hear of her from me.
If you care to read further, the sad story I’ll tell.
Of what came between us, and sent our friendship to hell.

Michele was the elder, between her and me.
But I’d lived out there longer, I had street maturity.
She one day met a man, ‘Pretty Charles’ by name.
I knew from the streets that, pimpin was his game.

I tried to tell her, she said, ” Thats not what he’s about.”
I said, ” Watch and I’ll show you, I’ll leave room for no doubt.”
My plan was to get him, interested in me.
To catch his eye, so he’d drop Michele Genee.

It didn’t take him long to see, that I knew the score.
Between me and Michele, he knew I’d make him more.
He dropped her like a hot potatoe, and came after me.
That was the end of my friendship, with Michele Genee.

Well I laughed at ‘Pretty Charles’, and said, ” Listen man,
I am not so stupid, as to fall for your plan,
why would I need you, if what I’m sellin is me,? ”
I guess I had to much of that, street maturity.

So Michele Genee, this is a message to you
I didn’t mean to hurt you I did what I had to do.
He would have used you up, then threw you in a garbage can.
That’s all you would have gotten from that, pimpin man.
Peace out from me.                                3/10/09


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Appalachian Lullaby


I left my heart in West Virginia
at the tender age of nine years old.
For a place somewhere up in Ohio
where there were jobs Daddy had been told.

It was a land of promise up in Ohio
where a man could feed his family.
But what use has food to a soul that’s dying
it seemed a poor exchange to me.

To the earth’s four corners a generation scattered,
far from their roots of generations past.
They did not know as the family parted,
a tree with shallow roots can never last.
An Appalachian lullaby
I can still hear the mountains cry.
As people left everything they’d known
Seeking for a better job and home.
It was the end of family
an all American tragedy.
an Appalachian lullaby
makes you hang your head and cry.

There were trips back home til Grandma departed
Then the trips grew fewer through the years.
Had Grandma known what was to follow
Her sweet blue eyes would have flowed with tears.

Now my Daddy’s buried up in Ohio
The children are scattered to the winds.
Far from their roots in West Virginia
Where this child’s heart has always been.

To the earth’s four corners a generation scattered,
Far from their roots of generations past.
They did not know as the family parted,
A tree with shallow roots can never last.
An Appalachian lullaby,
I can still hear the mountains cry.
As people left everything they’d known,
Seeking for a better job and home.
It was the end of family,
an all American tragedy.
an Appalachian lullaby,
makes me hang my head and cry.

’cause I left my heart in West Virginia ,
at the tender age, of 9 years old.



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The Page Has Turned


A page has turned, and you are gone
I do not wonder where.
For long before we parted ways
you weren’t really there.

Now that you’re gone, I do not care
I seldom shed a tear,
The page has turned, no turning back
you made this choice I fear.

c.d.m. 10/3/14


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Mommy always called me Gypsy


Mommy always called me Gypsy
after Gypsy Rose Lee.
Seems I loved high-heels and jewelry
they fascinated me.
My wardrobe held the cast-offs of
the ‘Ladies’  from upstairs.
I’d watch them do thier make-up and
do what they called ‘coiffures’ *
To see them dressed up for the town
gave my young heart delight.
They’d stumble up apartment stairs
at all hours of the night.
There was Sophie, Grace and Carol,
and my favorite Kaye,
it seemed that they all worked at night,
then slept most of the day.
Mom acted strange when I told her,
“I want to be like them”.
Told Daddy,”We will have to move,
or face a big problem”.
It wasn’t long before we moved
seemed very sad to me.
Cause after that, Mommy never
called me Gypsy Rose Lee.

      7-28-11             c.d.m.

*In these ladies dialect, ‘coiffures’, rhymes with ‘upstairs’.


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A Cry for Help

American tragedy

Akira bowed, to get beneath
shelter the cliffs could provide.
Amidst strangers and family
all seeking a place to hide.

Her little one clinging to her
cried loudly for food to eat.
She staggered in sheer exhaustion
from fear and sweltering heat.

A cacophony of voices,
echo questions and debate
wondering, now where do we go
oh God, what will be our fate?

To be driven out like stray dogs
because of faith and belief,
they ponder over the future
and if it will bring relief.

Some have died while on this sojourn
covered by dust starved for rain.
No time to mourn their passing,
too burdened with angst and pain.

Hiding there they hold their breath and
wait in anticipation,
that help will come from somewhere else
for Christians in their nation.

Then far off in the distance they
can hear the comforting sound
of someone raising a standard;
and mortars pounding the ground.

Time to defend the innocent
and defy the cowards hand.
A call to the Christian nations
to gather and take a stand.

Cheryl Davis Miller 8/8/14


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I once knew an orangutan
who loved to drink iced tea.
He would come by for a visit
just to entertain me.

We would meet beneath the willows
and sit there side by side.
Me listening as he spoke of
his journeys far and wide.

He only would grow quiet as
he sipped at his iced tea.
That traveling orangutan
who people called ‘ Charlie.’

He’d lived through famine and plenty,
he saw good times and bad.
Surviving long wars and peace times
still he was seldom sad.

He’d share the reason of his hope
and high expectancy;
his trust was in the Lord’s great love
for all humanity.

Friend if you question my stories;
true legitimacy.
Go talk to the orangutan
who’s simply called ‘ Charlie.’

Cheryl Davis Miller 7/31/14


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