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



The Concert

At first, thereÕs



Loops and whorls of sound

Fill up the room

Rising and falling

Feeding on all emotion and


Of the waiting crowd

A flash and flood of light


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



© 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.