Notes from A Waiting Room         
        
Twenty-seven jumbled pieces
         
Formed instinctively
         
Work flawlessly
         
Together
         
Creating music that invites
         
Ideas
         
To appear on scraps of
         
Found paper
         
I sketch you out
         
From memory and wishful thinking
         
Filling in the blanks with unsaid
         
Words.

    

   

The Concert

At first, thereÕs

Silence.

Then,

Loops and whorls of sound

Fill up the room

Rising and falling

Feeding on all emotion and

Anticipation

Of the waiting crowd

A flash and flood of light

Reveal

The players, at their places

Settled into

TonightÕs temporary home

And for a while

No outside world exists

Just words

And music

And  connection

A fleeting smile

A brush of fingertips

Or brief clasp of hands

ThereÕs a middle, then an end

Then a mournful keyboard fades

A last goodbye

And quick embrace exchanged

And then

Silence.

 

© Anne Mikusinski

Bio:  I've been writing poetry and short stories since I was seven years old and most probably making them up long before I could hold a pen or pencil in my hand. I find inspiration in music and art, and sometimes, even little things that happen every day. My influences range from Robert Frost and Dylan Thomas to David Byrne and Nick Cave, and I hope one day my work will inspire others in the same way these writers have inspired me.