I’m lost in my chord changes, trying to keep up with the beat
And the march of the thirty other people playing this song –
The song takes me into that magical place, where
Rhythm and tone, vibration and beat
Become the entire world, at least for a while.
Richard sits in the middle of it all, gently moving us along
Through the song, and onto the next one, giving each one of us
A moment of attention, here and there, each of us feeling
Truly welcome, and truly special.
We come to one of his favorites, and he asks us to carefully tune,
And we go through the song, and all are caught up in its particular
Sweetness, all of us playing our best.
There are a few wet eyes among us, for it truly is a beautiful song,
Made even more special today, strangers and friends, coming
Together.
We play on, and I have a moment for that rare bird’s eye view of my playing
And I see the progress I’ve made, and I see where I need to go.
The guy next to me, its his first time here, and I see him struggle,
And figure something out, and see his playing pushed, just a bit,
And a grin on his face, as he realizes he made it through the song
Just fine.
An hour flies by, and its time for the break.
Coffee, tea, and good conversations erupt all over.
The buzz is about instruments, song circles, techniques, workshops,
The joy of getting something to come together, and the joy of being
Together.
Another hour of playing, more challenges, more achievements, more beauty,
And then, its over, all too soon. Sadly, we move to put our instruments away,
And stack the sheet music books back where they belong.
Drifting slowly away, the music remains
In my heart.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Coffee Klatch
Small town café—
We all know each other,
Except for the tourists coming in
Out of the rain, looking for “coast food”
Clam chowder and smoked salmon, I guess.
None of that here, but the tomato soup and the turkey
Sandwich are good today, or the enchilada.
Don’t forget the carrot cake, or the big ginger snaps,
And coffee.
Gotta have the coffee. Cups are over there, by the pot.
Serve yourself. The locals know all this, and just toss
Their dollars onto the cookie case when they come in,
Not bothering the cashier, who is talking on the phone,
Or helping get ready for the lunch rush, or back in the cooler,
Getting more turkey out for the sandwiches.
She’ll usually only come back out front if there is a shout the coffee’s about dry
Or some tourist walks in, wanting clam chowder or directions to the beach,
Until the Regulars leave, and then she’ll count the money, and fill the till.
Don’t sit at that table. It’s nearly ten, and time for the
Ten O’Clockers, the Regulars—
Some still buzzed from the Eight O’Clock Coffee Klatch,
At that other place, down the road.
Oh, only some of the Regulars hit both groups, but the news
Is still the same, and needs to be told and hashed over
Again, and again,
Often with some new twists and theories.
Stay around long enough and the story will change completely—
To a version you want to believe, at last.
Leftist Conspiracy and City Folk Power Hunger are the popular ones—
Bureaucratic follies and political jokes abound—
Funny only to those who are Right Wing.
Proud to be Red Necks, this group, or so they want to be
Until its their ox being gored, or their family member in a bind.
When the tables turn, they want what everyone else wants
And pretty darn fast, pushing their way to the head of the line,
Their own politics then be damned, when its their turn in the barrel.
I sip my coffee nearby, trying to talk sense with a friend. We share our views
Of what we read from that New York Times columnist this morning—
Speaking in near whispers, out of the earshot of the Regulars,
Whose guffaws over a racist or sexist joke (take your pick)
Flll the room
Again.
We all know each other,
Except for the tourists coming in
Out of the rain, looking for “coast food”
Clam chowder and smoked salmon, I guess.
None of that here, but the tomato soup and the turkey
Sandwich are good today, or the enchilada.
Don’t forget the carrot cake, or the big ginger snaps,
And coffee.
Gotta have the coffee. Cups are over there, by the pot.
Serve yourself. The locals know all this, and just toss
Their dollars onto the cookie case when they come in,
Not bothering the cashier, who is talking on the phone,
Or helping get ready for the lunch rush, or back in the cooler,
Getting more turkey out for the sandwiches.
She’ll usually only come back out front if there is a shout the coffee’s about dry
Or some tourist walks in, wanting clam chowder or directions to the beach,
Until the Regulars leave, and then she’ll count the money, and fill the till.
Don’t sit at that table. It’s nearly ten, and time for the
Ten O’Clockers, the Regulars—
Some still buzzed from the Eight O’Clock Coffee Klatch,
At that other place, down the road.
Oh, only some of the Regulars hit both groups, but the news
Is still the same, and needs to be told and hashed over
Again, and again,
Often with some new twists and theories.
Stay around long enough and the story will change completely—
To a version you want to believe, at last.
Leftist Conspiracy and City Folk Power Hunger are the popular ones—
Bureaucratic follies and political jokes abound—
Funny only to those who are Right Wing.
Proud to be Red Necks, this group, or so they want to be
Until its their ox being gored, or their family member in a bind.
When the tables turn, they want what everyone else wants
And pretty darn fast, pushing their way to the head of the line,
Their own politics then be damned, when its their turn in the barrel.
I sip my coffee nearby, trying to talk sense with a friend. We share our views
Of what we read from that New York Times columnist this morning—
Speaking in near whispers, out of the earshot of the Regulars,
Whose guffaws over a racist or sexist joke (take your pick)
Flll the room
Again.
Epiphany
Young man
In trouble—
Alcohol—
Its epidemic
In this town
In his family
In our country.
Lost his girlfriend
Nearly became a dad—
Too early, and not his choice in a mom
But she looked good when he was drunk—
What he can remember.
Now, about to lose his license,
His prospects for the job he wants,
And more money down the drain,
Unless he changes.
At the crossroads, a serious talk—
Lay it on the line
Where the rubber meets the road—
Its time to change, he finally decides.
Not wanting to be the town drunk, not wanting to follow his brother
To jail, to rehab, to never having a license,
Or kill someone he loves,
Including himself.
It sinks in.
He leaves
Ready to change, I hope—
A worthwhile half hour of
Laying it on the line,
A wakeup call,
One that’s finally being heard
As he heads down the hall.
In trouble—
Alcohol—
Its epidemic
In this town
In his family
In our country.
Lost his girlfriend
Nearly became a dad—
Too early, and not his choice in a mom
But she looked good when he was drunk—
What he can remember.
Now, about to lose his license,
His prospects for the job he wants,
And more money down the drain,
Unless he changes.
At the crossroads, a serious talk—
Lay it on the line
Where the rubber meets the road—
Its time to change, he finally decides.
Not wanting to be the town drunk, not wanting to follow his brother
To jail, to rehab, to never having a license,
Or kill someone he loves,
Including himself.
It sinks in.
He leaves
Ready to change, I hope—
A worthwhile half hour of
Laying it on the line,
A wakeup call,
One that’s finally being heard
As he heads down the hall.
A Moment
A Moment
A friend, his wife, their daughter, on a Spring Break trip
Nearly home, my buddy driving, everyone else asleep—
Suddenly, crazy speeder behind them, not slowing,
Hits them, and pushes the three into the
Oncoming lane
To meet
Head on
Another car.
More innocents
Horrific crash
A split second in time
Lives changed
Forever.
Idiot speeder
Races off
Back down the road
Soon to abandon the van
And run away.
Cowards in the night
Fleeing from the carnage they caused
Leaving
Innocents
To wait for the ambulances.
A friend, his wife, their daughter, on a Spring Break trip
Nearly home, my buddy driving, everyone else asleep—
Suddenly, crazy speeder behind them, not slowing,
Hits them, and pushes the three into the
Oncoming lane
To meet
Head on
Another car.
More innocents
Horrific crash
A split second in time
Lives changed
Forever.
Idiot speeder
Races off
Back down the road
Soon to abandon the van
And run away.
Cowards in the night
Fleeing from the carnage they caused
Leaving
Innocents
To wait for the ambulances.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Uninvited, Again
Uninvited, Again
You wear many faces, and take many forms
As you come into my life at the most awkward, inconvenient times.
And sometimes, you are Anger, and sometimes, Sorrow, and sometimes
Guilt, and sometimes you just take me on a rollercoaster of feelings and thoughts,
Bringing me tears of laughter, and devastation and sadness and joy,
And sometimes, its all at the same time.
You don’t give me pause to catch my breath, or gain my footing,
As I slide around in the muck of it all, slipping and groping,
Until I find myself out of breath, and out of feelings,
Wondering what hit me, and made me stop
And grieve all over again, just like that first day
When Death came right into my face, and I finally understood the term
Grim Reaper.
You came, uninvited as usual, when Dad died, and my favorite aunt,
And my grandparents, and then my mom, and, oh yeah,
When two of my friends died after wrestling with cancer.
You know you’re not invited, but you stick your nose in my life
Anyway.
And, so I pick up my guitar, and I walk on the beach, and I sing in the shower
And on the way home from work, and I tend to my roses, and drink wine with my wife
On a beautiful sunny day, and then you don’t come around very much.
Yet, you still plan your ambushes, and jump me when I least expect it –
Like the times I’m driving down the road, and I suddenly burst into tears
And mourn the death of my Dad, some twenty four years ago, just like it was
Yesterday.
Oh, Grief, you will not get the best of me, and I will keep sending you on your way.
I know I must wrestle with you, and I must deal with the memories of those who have
Died, and I must remember the good times and the bad times.
And, it is in the remembering that my loved ones live on, and you keep your
Distance.
You wear many faces, and take many forms
As you come into my life at the most awkward, inconvenient times.
And sometimes, you are Anger, and sometimes, Sorrow, and sometimes
Guilt, and sometimes you just take me on a rollercoaster of feelings and thoughts,
Bringing me tears of laughter, and devastation and sadness and joy,
And sometimes, its all at the same time.
You don’t give me pause to catch my breath, or gain my footing,
As I slide around in the muck of it all, slipping and groping,
Until I find myself out of breath, and out of feelings,
Wondering what hit me, and made me stop
And grieve all over again, just like that first day
When Death came right into my face, and I finally understood the term
Grim Reaper.
You came, uninvited as usual, when Dad died, and my favorite aunt,
And my grandparents, and then my mom, and, oh yeah,
When two of my friends died after wrestling with cancer.
You know you’re not invited, but you stick your nose in my life
Anyway.
And, so I pick up my guitar, and I walk on the beach, and I sing in the shower
And on the way home from work, and I tend to my roses, and drink wine with my wife
On a beautiful sunny day, and then you don’t come around very much.
Yet, you still plan your ambushes, and jump me when I least expect it –
Like the times I’m driving down the road, and I suddenly burst into tears
And mourn the death of my Dad, some twenty four years ago, just like it was
Yesterday.
Oh, Grief, you will not get the best of me, and I will keep sending you on your way.
I know I must wrestle with you, and I must deal with the memories of those who have
Died, and I must remember the good times and the bad times.
And, it is in the remembering that my loved ones live on, and you keep your
Distance.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Unity
Unity
Between the downpours that flooded the lawn
And sent the earthworms onto the sidewalk
And filled the ditches by the side of the lane
So that leaves and refuge scraps of shingles plied the new rapids—
There was unity.
Between the howls of uber-wind, never wanting to stop,
Shaking the house to its core and finally topping the centuries old
Eagle Tree in the pasture, flinging its roots to the sky,
There was unity.
Amid the Gore-Tex clad linemen, and the spontaneous crews of
Chainsaw-armed road clearing crews, creators of a new roar in the air,
There was unity.
In the convoy of PUD trucks leaving at daybreak, their crews
Barely awake after four hours of sleep, their hydraulic buckets still
Covered with tree needles and sawdust from the day before,
There was unity.
As the shopkeeper sold matches, candles, and canned soup in the
Dark, on credit to a neighbor in need, and the postmistress selling me
Stamps, and sorting mail with a headband flashlight, while telling a joke,
There was unity.
In the eyes of the firemen, lining up in the deli for lunch,
Their turnouts covered with sawdust and grime, and in the
Eyes of the man whose trailer was still floating in the waters, and the
Farmer, who had spent all night saving his cows from drowning, and then doing the
Milking by generator and lantern light,
There was unity.
After the floodwaters, after the winds, after the endless stream of black clouds
Flying across the skies, after the waves tore at the beaches, after the rivers and bays
Filled with freshly slain trees and newly launched log-boats,
Amidst the blue skies and now drying asphalt,
There was unity.
Neighbor helping neighbor, stranger stopping to saw up the tree leaning on the roof,
As another came by to clear a ditch, move some limbs, hook up the phone, turn on the power—
Reaching out to others, listening to the stories, offering comfort, giving a hand,
There was unity.
Between the downpours that flooded the lawn
And sent the earthworms onto the sidewalk
And filled the ditches by the side of the lane
So that leaves and refuge scraps of shingles plied the new rapids—
There was unity.
Between the howls of uber-wind, never wanting to stop,
Shaking the house to its core and finally topping the centuries old
Eagle Tree in the pasture, flinging its roots to the sky,
There was unity.
Amid the Gore-Tex clad linemen, and the spontaneous crews of
Chainsaw-armed road clearing crews, creators of a new roar in the air,
There was unity.
In the convoy of PUD trucks leaving at daybreak, their crews
Barely awake after four hours of sleep, their hydraulic buckets still
Covered with tree needles and sawdust from the day before,
There was unity.
As the shopkeeper sold matches, candles, and canned soup in the
Dark, on credit to a neighbor in need, and the postmistress selling me
Stamps, and sorting mail with a headband flashlight, while telling a joke,
There was unity.
In the eyes of the firemen, lining up in the deli for lunch,
Their turnouts covered with sawdust and grime, and in the
Eyes of the man whose trailer was still floating in the waters, and the
Farmer, who had spent all night saving his cows from drowning, and then doing the
Milking by generator and lantern light,
There was unity.
After the floodwaters, after the winds, after the endless stream of black clouds
Flying across the skies, after the waves tore at the beaches, after the rivers and bays
Filled with freshly slain trees and newly launched log-boats,
Amidst the blue skies and now drying asphalt,
There was unity.
Neighbor helping neighbor, stranger stopping to saw up the tree leaning on the roof,
As another came by to clear a ditch, move some limbs, hook up the phone, turn on the power—
Reaching out to others, listening to the stories, offering comfort, giving a hand,
There was unity.
Two Shooting Stars
Two shooting stars,
One a bright blaze towards the sun, an hour from rising,
The second, headed for the ocean.
Both awakening me from deep, cold night sleep
As Orion danced his Autumn dance across the predawn sky.
An omen? A message from the gods?
Or just the opening act of the dawn?
One a bright blaze towards the sun, an hour from rising,
The second, headed for the ocean.
Both awakening me from deep, cold night sleep
As Orion danced his Autumn dance across the predawn sky.
An omen? A message from the gods?
Or just the opening act of the dawn?
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