In dusty border towns,
accordion reeds breathe life—
a rolling pulse like the Rio Grande
under midsummer sun.
Bajo sexto strums,
fingers chasing stories
of hearts left behind,
fiestas in the plaza,
and abuelos smiling
through cigar smoke and tequila shadows.
The polka spins,
boots slap wooden floors,
and the tejano beat carries
across vinyl and neon—
tejidas between cultures,
a song stitched from two worlds.
Voices rise,
soprano and bajo merge,
tales of love and loss,
of work-worn hands,
of the border that bends,
never breaking,
always singing.
Every note—
a coyote’s howl,
a dance in the heat of June,
a memory etched
in the calloused palms
of a musician
whose heart beats in 2/4 time.
-
Author:
Matthew R. Callies (
Offline) - Published: February 28th, 2026 00:08
- Comment from author about the poem: Just a poem about Tejano music
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 26
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
- In collections: What's That Sound?.
Offline)
Comments3
This poem sets the mood and I feel that I have been there. It is gritty and real and has the southwestern feel as if it had just walked out of the badlands. Nicely done I can almost taste the pepper in it.
nicely done.
Matthew, this truly breathes… dusty, rhythmic, alive. That weaving of two worlds gives it depth beyond celebration, and the 2/4 heartbeat lands perfectly at the close. It feels cultural, musical, and personal all at once. The rhythm doesn’t just describe the music… it becomes it. Well done, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
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