Poetry

The tedium of waiting
Fizzles into nothing
No consequence, no concern
When I am waiting in Mexico
Among easy-going bone-tired women

Who wait in a broken line
Stand on one foot then the other
Shift parcels, clutch pesos
Balance stacks of steaming tortillas
Mind children while watching for the bus

Waiting here fulfills its purpose
I observe and reflect, smile and connect
Utter small words in español
I notice a patience within, a peace
Unlike waiting at home

—Annis Cassells

i meant to say…
you told me we were through,
(“let’s be friends,” you said.)
that line again.

i meant to say…
that day we explored the museum in LA
left me in awe of you, my private docent amid the masters,
vibrant colors, muted whispers and you,
so at home amid a world I’d never imagined.

i meant to say…
i remember the touch of your hand in mine,
melodic laughter at little things.
you left the convent, I left the seminary,
our common experience in different lights.

i meant to say…
i was in love with you
but you were not with me–
a replay of the past.

i meant to say…
your kindness, your goodness, your gift
of letting go i still carry.
you freed me to meet
the one I love and who loves me.
so…

i meant to say…
thank you
for our time together
and life after that.

—Terry Redman, ©2015

My Bones Hurt
They must be yearning for the dirt
I can’t complain
The years have been kind
Yet still I struggle
I have Much on my mind
I’m bereft with regrets
Chief amongst many
Is that I wasted precious time
I’ve squandered it plenty
My final breath is nigh
how can this be
It seems only yesterday
When I knelt on one knee
Promises and hearts were broken
Those who mattered know my plea
Now My time draws near.
My life’s wrung out
Just when I’m about to find
What it was all about

—Reggie Ridgway

The length of the bars determine the sound
Vibrations ring out as hammer comes down

Melodic music of depth and of tone
That strange little instrument…the Xy-o-lo-phone!

One note struck…or sometimes two
At the same time, as we players will do

Beautiful harmony, sings out through the air
At home football game or State country fair

I stand at the back, of the orchestra pit
Or right up in front…I sometimes will sit

Playing my chimes, with dings and with dongs
Adding so much, to the orchestra’s songs

As kids we all got one, on Christmas tree morn
We banged on its bars, till Dad’s ears were torn

The one in the orchestra, sounds much better now
The chimes are in tune, with the conductor’s deep bow

Now I don’t have to play, in my room all alone
The crowd they all love…my XY-O-LA-PHONE!

—David Kettler