Posts Tagged ‘waiting’

My wife and our three Okinawan grandkids in the ICU Waiting Room hoping for good news about their Dad.

By David Allen

It’s the waiting
that gets to me.
Watching the unresponsive
body on the intensive care bed,
multiple tubes inserted
into veins, nose, mouth, and brain.
Hoping for a raised thumb
or hand clutching mine.
But he sleeps a drugged rest
and I shuffle to the waiting room.

Sitting with family and friends.
We’re running out of caring talk.
Some check smart phones
for word from the outside world.
I listen to the prayer circle
in the next family space.
A minister prays for Jesus
to intercede.

In another space, a tv plays
a hospital show. The sound is muted,
but blood clearly drenches victims of a car crash.
It makes me scratch my head.
Watch a hospital fiction while
the real drama plays out
in a dozen rooms down the hall?

There’s a lot going on
in the waiting room.
A young girl combs
her Barbie’s hair,
while her brothers
play with plastic Xmen.
Their mother is curled up
asleep in a recliner.
Behind me, a bottle of soda
is dispensed with a bang
from a drink machine.
Three middle aged men
in black biker vests
look for a seat, find none,
and walk away.

It’s the waiting that gets to you.
How long should you stay
until you feel like you paid
your respects, prayed
and delivered words of caring?
Even though you’re not sure
if they are heard?
Only to drive home to wait again
in more familiar surroundings,
until it’s time to drive back
and wait some more.

Slow Motion Wait

Posted: June 28, 2018 in Poetry
Tags: , , ,


Slow Motion Wait
By David Allen

The TV in the auto dealership waiting room
Is playing Days of Our Lives.
“Like sand in an hourglass
So are the days of our lives.”
(cue the theme song)

That’s my life today
Nothing to do but wait
While my car gets its 80,000-mile check
Because there’s no one available
To take me to lunch.

Slowly, the grains of sand fall
Maybe a dozen a second
As I ache for a remote control
So I can change the channel
To turn off the damn drama.
But two old ladies in chairs
Across the room are paying
Rapt attention to the soap.

It’s killing me.

I’m in no mood for crosswords.
I mean puzzles,
There’s plenty of obscenities
Lodged in my mind about
The wait
My aching bones
Our crazed POTUS

But I remain silent

I am already preparing
For the time after the oil change,
Tire rotation, and other routine checks,
When the car service guy
Will come in and pleasantly say
“Hi, Mr. Allen. Well we’re done
And your car’s ready. And did you know…
Blah, blah, blah needs to be fixed?
Do you want to set a date?”

I know it will cost me more
Than I can afford.
And I’ll nod and thank him and
Politely say, I’ll think about it
“What will today’s bill be?”

We have the same conversation
Every time I come here.
I’d go elsewhere,
But it’s cheap here.
I am a VIP.

Just as I start to erase those thoughts,
I hear someone say “Sometimes,
I wish I were someplace else.”
“Me, too, pal,” I mutter, realizing
It’s the man hunk on the screen.
His woman says something I don’t quite get.
I wish I had been paying more attention to the show.

“Sometimes, I wish I were someone else,”
The tube guy whispers.
“Well, yeah,” I start, but am interrupted
By a voice behind me.

“Mr. Allen, your car’s ready.
Now the brakes are squeaky … “

images (30)

By David Allen
(With apologies to Lawrence Ferlinghetti)

I am waiting for my time to arrive
And I am waiting
For a renewed Age of Reason
And I am waiting for a woman
To be elected president
And drive the Teabaggers crazy
And I am waiting
For the world’s religious leaders
To agree to coexisit.
And I am waiting for the rich
To pay their fair share
And I am waiting for when
No child goes hungry
And I am waiting for the day
When the pen defeats the sword
And I am waiting for the time
Poets will be revered
As much as NFL quarterbacks
An I am waiting
For Social Security to be secure
And health care guaranteed
And I am waiting
For a renewed Age of Reason.

I am waiting for my ducks
To line up in a row
And I am waiting
For that one winning scratch off card
And I am waiting
For an early spring
And for fences to be mended
And potholes to be filled
And I am waiting
To hear Dylan live one more time
And I am waiting
For a cure for cancer
And an end to Monsanto food
And I am still waiting
For a renewed Age of Reason.

I am waiting
For the perfect cheeseburger
And I am waiting
For a time when being gay
Is no big deal.
And I am waiting
For my wife to admit
That I am funny
And can sing.
And I am waiting for the U.S.
To end being Cops of the World
And peace is given a real chance
And I am waiting
To regain my balance
And throw away my cane
And I remain waiting
For a new Age of Reason.


Posted: December 19, 2015 in Poetry
Tags: , , , , ,



By David Allen
I am becoming
Less patient
With patience.
The promised rewards
Are not forthcoming
As advertised.
I am reaching an age
Where they say patience
Is natural and, naturally,
I am impatient
To find mine.
They say patience
Is a virtue and I find
I virtually have
Little left these days.
And so I sit, sip a beer
And wait impatiently
For something
To happen.

images (9)

By David Allen

I walked to your
back door last night
and saw two legs standing
where mine might have been.
I panicked, stepped backwards
down the stoop steps,
retreated to the side of the house
and plotted.
Then I knocked on your door.
“Are you coming?” I asked.
You were confused, drunk,
shaken by his visit —
but smiling.
“How are you?” I asked his beard.
“I’m coming from behind my mask,”
he said. “My ass,” I thought.
You said you’d be along

I waited through the long night
for your scream
or a slamming door.


(god) DAMMIT
By David Allen

Sitting here
Drinking coffee,
Scarfing down
A cheese Danish,
Waiting for the atheists
To arrive.
A movie night
With the Okinawa
Freethought Society,
Gonna watch a flick
About how religion’s
“The Root of All Evil,”
By Richard Dawkins.
But it’s already 8 p.m.
And no one’s
Showed up yet.
Where the hell
Are they?



By David Allen

Waiting 15 Minutes

This time it’s waiting
For the ortho doc
To tell me the MRI shows
What I already know.
And there’s not much
That can be done.
So, why am I here?
He has the power of the pills
That I will swill when the pain
Becomes too much to bear.
So, here I sit and contemplate.
What pain reliever this time
Will be my fate?

Waiting 20 Minutes

Waiting in the examination room
For 20 minutes reminds me
Of days covering boring trials
When I was a newspaper reporter.
I wrote poems to while the time away.
The poems are coming!
The poems are coming!
So what if the doc is taking his time?
My brain is full of ink.

Waiting 25 minutes

It’s amazing how I have
Absolutely no pain now that
I am waiting for the ortho doc
To come and tell me
What bad shape I’m in.

Waiting 30 minutes

Does anyone know
I am here?
It’s been 30 minutes
And I fear
The ortho doc
Is on an extended
Coffee break
And his staff
Mistakenly filed
My chart away.

Waiting 35 minutes

Knock Knock
Who’s there?
I am.
It’s been 35 minutes
Since the nice nurse
Said you’d be right with me.
This is not right
With me.

Waiting 40 minutes

There’s the sound of laughter
In the hallway outside this room.
Does it mean the ortho doc
Will soon appear?
Is there something in my chart
Amusing him?
Is this terrible waiting
Some initiation prank
For the new patient?
Must not be.
I hear the footsteps
Fading away.
So, I wait.

Waiting 45 minutes

Well, that was quick.
After 45 minutes of waiting
The ortho doc spent 7 minutes
Showing me the MRI pictures
And explaining how bad
My spine was screwed up,
And that I need to see a neurosurgeon
Who will stick needles in me
To assess what to do next.

I await in dulled

'Mister Wilcox! Back in the little room! You haven't waited nervous and half naked the required 50 minutes for the doctor to see you.'


(god) DAMMIT

Sitting here
Drinking coffee,
Scarfing down
A cheese Danish,
Waiting for the atheists
To arrive.
A movie night
With the Okinawa
Freethought Society,
Gonna watch a flick
About how religion’s
“The Root of All Evil,”
By Richard Dawkins.
But it’s already 8 p.m.
And no one’s
Showed up yet.
Where the hell
Are they?