Poetry

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