I wish we had played on all night

 

I wish we had played on all night,
African cowboys with not much,
Else to do,

I wish we had challenged the fish in the sea and,
Called out to the Bison,

My father and his band,
And his,

-strike while the iron is hot-

Jive,

Johnstone, his brother,
On the drums,
Kicking up a riot,

Sarah the lead,
Crooning about her rescue from a,
Very bad man,

Lydia,
Lead back-up,

Flinging in the,
‘Alleluiahs’, and
‘Godda-let-it-be’s!

Samuel,
A doctor dying of AIDS,
Breathing new life into a tin-metal harmonica,

‘Alleluhia,’

Rocking the old man at the end of the bar,
And the couple at the table, fighting with their lips,

I heard it coming when he fumbled the line,
And I wish we had played on all night.

 

♦Thanks to: Meanwhile Back at The Ranch(photo), and Jessie Veeder, whose telling, inspired this poem♦

evocative short poetry – words move

Dream-catcher

 

Here I am,
In a long, low, valley,
On a horse, under sweltering sky.

A single trail runs East to West,
As far as the eye can see.

The sheep-skin bags,
Strung low off the saddle,
Are empty.

Bandits rode into town last week,
And made off with a couple of dreams,

Now I must know,
Which way to go,

I am the Sheriff,
The dream-catcher.

See - We played on into the night…

♦photo - webstockpro.com♦

evocative short poetry – words move