Category: Poetry

What Music Am I Playing Today?

My Piano Hands!

I play music as I pass through my day.

 Sometimes it’s harsh, and sometimes easy-breezy, hooray.

Each day it’s a choice to:

Curate the chords

Making majors from the minors.

Nurture each note and

Relaxing on the rests.

Dive into dissonance

Forcing fortes and frowns.

Invite

Pianissimos seeking peace,

Soft pedals pushed down.

Channel rock ‘n roll?

Relish Rachmaninoff!

  Meet Miranda or Mozart.

It’s a joy, it’s an art.

The best news is

The music I play.

Is totally mine,

To make my day my way.

 

 

Hope for Christmas 2021

‘Twas three weeks before Christmas and all through the towns.

People wore masks that covered their frowns.

The frowns had begun back in 2020 Spring,

When a global pandemic changed everything.

They called it Corona but unlike the beer,

It didn’t bring good times; it didn’t bring cheer.

 

Airplanes were grounded, travel was banned.

Borders were closed across air, sea, and land.

As the world entered lockdown, flattening Covid’s curve,

The economy caved, and folks lost their nerve.

Through spring 2020, we rode the first wave.

People stayed home and tried to behave.

When summer emerged, the lockdown was lifted.

But away from sanity, many folks had drifted.

Now it’s December 2021, and cases are spiking.

Omicron has arrived, much to our disliking.

The last two years have brought sadness aplenty.

We’ll never forget the year 2020.

 

Now we’re nearing another holiday season.

But why be merry? Is there even one reason?

To decorate the house and put up the tree?

Who will see it?  Maybe no one but me.

But outside our window, the rain gently falls

And I think to myself, “Let’s deck the halls!”

So, I gather red ribbons, garlands, and bows.

As I play those old carols, my happiness grows,

Christmas is not canceled and neither is hope,

If we lean on each other, I know we can cope!

Thirty-Four Weeks

Life Balloons

We are early by six weeks. S/he (because they chose not to find out) and I are together in this. S/he and my son and his wife. We are all together, beating hearts to give strength to this new soul. To the four souls, six souls, eight, twelve, billions of souls that contributed to make this little life a life.

Birth. It must be soon. And the struggle to live begins.

We are waiting to hear. My heart beats with the baby’s. My heart murmurs, yes! Yes. YES. You can do this.

It will be stronger, we’d like to say. We will be stronger, ‘they’ say.

But dang!

Just yesterday, we did not know of this. Today we do. Today, we have a new reality. Thinks change. Then, they change again. We never know when we wake up in the morning what the day has for us. Today, it wants prayer. Beating heart prayer.

Be strong, little one.
Bring in your best self,
New as you are,
For your mom and dad.
We’re all here to help you
Be well.
Be.