Category Archives: Poetry

Bare black tree in the sunset with brightly colored roots

Isolation

Is it your history
Your failing health?

It is impossible
To guess
What lies in the folds
In the hearts of others

So many of us
Do not advertise
So that strangers
Will take no notice
Pass us by

Cannot exploit
Our weaknesses
Safety perhaps
Isolation as well

Sometimes
For long times
We cannot take it

Pain clings
Must be washed off
Again and again and again

We are just not ready
That is OK
That is a perfectly fine choice

Regardless of what others think
You should and should not
Do with yourself

Look at them
Be kind
The mess of their lives
Make it obvious

They do not have it
Figured out either

-Copyright C.M. Mounts, June 2017

Jungle of red, yellow, and blue bicycles and wheels

RAGBRAI

20,000 fools
Flood into small town mid-west
Under summer starry sky
In search of food and especially beer
Carbohydrates, protein, a painkiller

The band’s biggest gig
They will ever know
Whether they be
80’s cover band
Heavy metal cover band

It did not matter
They shredded it
We loved it
Hell, we would love anything

Sitting in front of small town
Downtown
Across the town square
 
Cycled 60 miles
Cycled 80 miles
Cycled 100 miles

Whatever
We were cooked
Grateful someone else
Cooked dinner

Staring at the cover band
Tear down the house
20,000 cyclists got cooked
On the lawn

-Copyright C.M. Mounts, May 2017

A hallway with gray walls and doors, flowered wallpaper, and brightly colored carpet

Nursing home

There is still life here
Kindness, courtesy
It is not where anyone
Wants to be
Wants to end up
People here have stories
They have lives
They miss their families
They miss their mom
They may be convinced that
Their mom is coming
To pick them up soon
At eighty years in failing health
They might be right
Whether it is an atrophied brain
Or an atrophied body
There are still hopes
There are still desires
There are still feelings
Of love, of longing
Pain makes life immediate
Pain rewrites brain pathways
How you think of the world
Pain relief is needed
A Vicodin, a clasped hand
A string of Christmas lights
On the window

-Copyright C.M. Mounts, February 2017

Flowers in a vase covered in webbing

Caregiver

Off
Keep it off
Away

I love you
I have to go

Be well
Be safe
Good night

If you need me
Get ahold of me

Don’t expect
Response
Right away

I am not angry
I am tired
I gave it all

Time to refill
Relax, reflect
Storm coming

In space between
Turbulent times
Leave a message

-Copyright C.M. Mounts, April 2017

Colorful stained glass with gaps

Affinity

There is more
There is so much more

Yes, breaks are allowed
But time marches on
Ready or not

It is unfair to expect
One person to serve
All your needs

It is unfair to think
You can serve
All theirs

Consider the great
Humbling honor
It is to love another

Agree to share
Their life with you

We have so few days
Mayfly life
In the memory of the world

Why chain them in sorrow
Why chain yourself in anger

Let go
Hold Loosely
Love always

-Copyright C.M. Mounts, April 2017

Sunset into the ocean

High Romance

Call, write a letter
Email whatever
Let me know

Take a week off
Two weeks
Get on a plane

Meet me there
In the tropics
Small island

Pitch an umbrella
Over beach chairs
Bottle of wine

While sunset fades
Eat a ridiculous dinner
Dance

Lay in bed a couple days
Naked as we came
Curtains flow in sea breeze

Room service
Feed each other
Pineapple

-Copyright C.M. Mounts, April 2017

Sunset, radiating heat from the ground

Cycle

It is a meditative practice
Physical meditation
Focus on the now for hours
Hours speed by with the world
Natural world
Patience, solitude
Flowers grow by the thousands
In forgotten ditches
Animals startled
Silent approach
Sun beats down at high noon
Heat radiates up from baked asphalt
Cracks spread
Threaten to grab tires
Threaten to throw you off
Lonely trees grow along cornfields
Shady spots to nap
To eat nuts and chocolate
To stare up at the impossible blue sky
Life passes, no deadlines
Only dandelions fields of youth

-Copyright C.M. Mounts, April 2017

Slices of citrus fruit on blue background

Bitter Fruit

The years pass
In two’s and three’s

You still are as you were
Softer, harder

Not bitter, so bitter that
No one calls or visits
Or wants to talk to you

You are given a choice everyday
Where you want to go
What you want to do

If it is to be enraged
Yet one more day
About what might have been
You are free to do so

But the years will pass
In two’s and three’s

Walking the treadmill
Money in, money out
Sex maybe, food always
Death upon death upon death

Pick the dandelions while you might
Blow them into the wind

-Copyright C.M. Mounts, April 2017

Heart with waves of color radiating outward

Young Love

This is after all, a love story
The dumbest people on the planet
Are 20-somethings in love
God bless them

Suck the marrow out of that
Because as the pain comes
And the disappointment comes
We grow to become

Ashamed of our longings
Afraid to express what it is
We really hope for from one another
You get to be free

Young and beautiful for now
You get to not worry
If your body will fail you
In the midst of passion

You don’t have the needs or the wants
The dreams of your little child
To worry about as you run long and hard
Headlong into your own

Go, be, live it.
There are decades of being practical ahead
Be precisely impractical
While you can

-Copyright C.M. Mounts, March 2016

Sands of Time

You do not have that kind of time
You do not have time to put it off
The writing, the painting, the music
Day to day has its demands
Takes its pound of flesh

No, your family doesn’t respect your art
Enough to leave you to it
But if you are compelled
If you write because you must write
You do not have that kind of time

The kind of time that keeps you stuck
In the moment twenty years ago
When your ‘big reveal’ blew up in your face
All the joy you hoped to get out of it
Turned into deep grinding shame

Coated your heart with enough anger
To shield the wound in it
But the hole that is there
Still sucks the sands of your life away
And you do not have that kind of time

Write it out
Ink it
Line it
Fill it with
Crumpled paper drafts

-Copyright C.M. Mounts, May 2016