Off Balance

There are days it seems I have
Too much upon my plate.
Whether this is good or not
Is up for some debate.

On the plus side, it feels fine
To hustle and keep busy;
But the negative is that
I’m often in a tizzy.

Running ‘round with chores to do
And friends to meet is great.
Sometimes with so many plans
It’s hard to keep them straight.

Other times, though, when I check,
My calendar is bare.
Then I wonder why it is
I’ve so much time to spare.

It’s rare, in life, to balance
Purpose, flow and relaxation,
Unless you’ve left it all behind
And gone on a vacation!

Bob Wire

As a kid, I was told
To beware and not touch
If I ever encountered Bob Wire.
This warning was something
I took quite to heart
So avoiding it was my desire.

It took many years
‘Til I learned that the word
Wasn’t “Bob” but was “barbed” with an “r;”
And that knowledge made sense
For a danger named Bob
Seemed both harmless and rather bizarre.

I saw some today
On the top of a fence
And remembered my enemy Bob.
As I chuckled, I thought
That just being a kid
Is a challenging, difficult job!

On the Floor

I witnessed on the subway
What I’ve never seen before –
A woman tumbled from her seat
Onto the dirty floor.

It seemed that she was sleeping
And, as we all sat and stared,
We wondered who would intervene,
But not one person dared…

Until a brave soul leaned on down
And shook the sleeper’s arm.
She boldly shouted, “Get on up!”
A human-train alarm.

The sleeping lady gave a moan
And uttered, “I’m all right.”
Perhaps she thought she was at home
And tucked in for the night.

The kindly soul persisted,
Saying, “Get back in your seat!
You’re stretched out on the filthy floor,
Surrounded by our feet!”

At this, the sleeper’s eyes went wide;
She let go with a curse.
The Good Samaritan backed off,
Afraid of something worse.

The passengers all held their breaths;
The train stopped at the station.
The sleeper slowly rose and made
A seat her destination.

She promptly fell asleep again.
Who knows what wiped her out?
But watching this, I understood
What life is all about:

When people struggle, some will help
But most won’t interfere,
‘Cause sometimes the recipients
Would rather you stay clear.

Making a Case

The iPhone 4 I bought today
Just set me back a buck.
It’s last year’s model, quite passé
And so the deal was struck.

I found out that it needs a case
So it won’t fall and break,
But I was really thrown off-base
When I heard – no mistake –

The purple case I liked (with teal)
Was priced at fifty clams!
What started as a groovy deal
Soon wore the scent of scams.

They say that nothing comes for free
And that is not a lie,
For stores that make no profit
Are in very short supply.

Customer Service

The bill declared, in bright red ink,
“Your payment’s overdue.
We’ll hand it to collectors
If your check’s not coming through.”

Insurance said they’d paid it;
Prior phone calls should’ve ended it.
At last I reached a human
Who, quite shockingly, amended it.

Not only that, he went beyond
And then apologized.
I must admit, such virtue
Left me more than just surprised.

I’ve gotten used to business folk
Where nasty is the norm.
How rare to find a person who
To meanness won’t conform.

Although I hated being charged
For what I didn’t owe,
I learned civility’s not dead
And that’s so nice to know!

Holdout

I let Black Friday come and go.
I didn’t buy a thing.
I guess I’ll never know what joy
Such bargain deals can bring.

I drove past every single mall,
Set foot in not one store;
And so today I own exactly
What I’d owned before.

Perhaps if I were younger
Or were sorely strapped for cash,
I’d join in all that frenzy
And that eight-to-midnight dash.

But as it was, I stayed away,
Though I will not deny
A tinge of envy, ‘cause I still
Have all my gifts to buy!

Kvelling

The Irish have the Book of Kells,
A wise and ancient tome,
But I prefer the hook of kvells,
Much closer to my home.

To kvell, in Yiddish, means to crow,
Most likely rather loud,
About someone who makes you glow
And feel so very proud.

Your kvells could be about a friend,
Deserving of some fame,
But mostly kvelling does extend
To children that you claim.

So now's my opportunity,
With arguments compelling,
To tell you with impunity
Why I've a need for kvelling.

My son is handsome, smart and sweet
And has a lovely wife.
He's everything you'd like to meet,
A beacon in my life.

My daughter has a voice of gold;
She's funny and surprising.
Her strength is something to behold
And so's her memorizing.

They both provide me lots of joy;
As offspring they excel.
To sum it up, I'll just say, "Oy - 
Do I have cause to kvell!"

Stuffed!

Of course I didn’t quit,
Although my appetite was snuffed.
I had to sample everything
Until my gut was stuffed.

The hostess said she’d made a lot –
We knew she wasn’t bluffing –
For there was such variety
Beyond the bird and stuffing.

Since every dish was yummy,
Just one bite was not enough;
And so into our eager mouths
That food we had to stuff.

Today there is a price to pay –
My stomach’s looking puffed;
But on Thanksgiving Day, I can’t
Prevent becoming stuffed!

Thanksgiving

Travel, tap dance, tulips, teak
Heartbeats, hugs, hotels
Art, affection, aunts and ale
Nachos, notes from bells
Kites and kittens, kudos, kin
Scenery and seasons
Grandmas, glitter, grass and green
Ireland for all reasons
Vino, visits, veggies, vests
Ice cream, Israel, irons
Nests and nickels, neatness, nuts
Gargoyles and environs

Every item I’ve just named
On my list of favorites ranks.
So for these and so much more,
On this day, I offer thanks.

Crazy Travel Day

Today’s the crazy travel day
That everyone’s been dreading;
Crowds colliding all around,
No matter where you’re heading.

Airports, depots, subway cars
Are filled with out-of-towners.
Baggage bumping into legs
Turns smilers into frowners.

Every sidewalk’s packed and mobbed
With folks home for Thanksgiving.
It’s just like a zombie flick,
Although this herd is living.

Hopefully, they’ll make it home
Or to their destination;
Such a massive effort for
This Pilgrim celebration.

As for those who make the meal,
When patience does unravel,
Count your blessings – after all,
You didn’t have to travel!

A Hidden Vein

Can there be Thanksgiving
For those families displaced?
So many’ve been confronted with
The worst they’ve ever faced.

Homes destroyed, possessions gone;
A lifetime’s treasures lost.
It must be hard to think of thanks
While knowing what it cost.

Yet for survivors, life goes on
And surely they’ll reflect
On reasons to be thankful,
Maybe more than we’d expect.

For some misfortunes, though they’re cruel,
Surprise us and reveal
A hidden vein of fortitude
Which helps folks fix and heal.

So as the holiday draws near,
Though sorrow’s off the charts,
May all who suffer know 
They're in our thoughts and in our hearts.

Succinct

It’s hard to write succinctly.
It’s murder to condense;
So lengthy poems quite often seem
To be the consequence.

It really takes a special skill
To trim or cut in half
The thoughts you must compose
With just the wheat but not the chaff.

Consolidation is the key
But when I’m taking stock,
I’m well aware that discard key
Will not fit in my lock!

Quarters

There was a time, not long ago,
I’m sure this won’t seem strange,
When I would never leave my house
Without a pile of change.

My wallet would be fit to burst
Or pockets would be jangling
With all the quarters that from every source
I had been wrangling.

The parking meters ate them up.
The bus was just as greedy;
And every pay phone (once a dime)
For quarters seemed quite needy.

The laundry room had its machines
Equipped so they would take
As many quarters as they could
Before we’d bellyache.

I needed quarters in the car
For paying all the tolls;
And in arcades, a two-bit coin
Bestowed you the controls.

But now technology’s advanced
With cards of many types.
Some radar reads your E-Z Pass;
You board the bus with swipes.

I’ve plastic for the wash and dry,
The subway and to park.
A quarter proffered would be met
With shrug as question mark.

I miss my quarter harvest
Though I really must confess
I’m better off today because
My wallet weighs much less!

Making a Wish

Close your eyes and make a wish;
You’re sure it’s what you want.
As wishes go, about this one,
You’re rather nonchalant.

But sometimes wishes do come true –
You chalk it up to luck;
Yet hidden dangers might appear –
Then baby, you are stuck!

For what was dangling out of reach
Had such a sweet allure
And now that it’s plunked in your lap,
You aren’t really sure.

So next time that you make that wish,
Take time and think it through,
‘Cause if it happens, you won’t know
Just what the heck to do!

Elegy for a Twinkie

No more Twinkies, no more Yodels;
Say farewell to Sno Balls, too.
Ring Dings soon will be extinct
And Devil Dogs, as well, are through.

Plus you’ll have to wonder where
Your fluffy white bread went because
If Wonder was the brand you bought,
This news I bring will give you pause:

For Hostess brands (and Drakes as well)
Have closed their doors, declared defeat;
But oh, those squiggle cupcakes! They,
In childhood days, were such a treat!

Hostess cakes are front and center
When I’m sweetly reminiscing.
I feel bad for kids today
And all those Twinkies they’ll be missing!

Catalogues

Catalogues are filled with things
That no one really needs,
But flipping through the pages
Well, we all know where that leads:

To buying some ephemera
For gifts or for ourselves;
Like we don’t have sufficient tchotchkes
Cluttering our shelves.

It may be jewelry or clothes
Or toys we find enticing;
And if there is a coupon code,
Then that becomes the icing.

The holidays approach and thus,
The mailbox overflows.
The need to purchase presents
Is conditioned, I suppose.

And so I sit and browse on through,
A giving-gifts supporter,
While wondering if I’m prepared
To call and place my order.

What really makes me happy, though,
And always yields a smile,
Is when I add a catalogue
On to the reject pile!

Be-traeus

The C.I.A. guy spilled the beans,
Quite possibly, in bed.
He should have stuck to sharing secrets
With his wife instead.

Since national security
Might really be at stake,
He had to quit when they found out,
For who can trust a snake?

Advice to all philanderers:
You shouldn’t take a chance
Of blabbing news that’s classified
When you’ve removed your pants!

On the Junkheap

Long before Nintendo or Atari were invented,
At birthday time you bugged your folks and maybe they relented
And added to your toys a game you’d coveted, I’d bet:
A marvel made of solid wood, a real Nok-Hockey set!

The game was table-sized, although you’d play it on the floor.
No matter if you won or lost, you always wanted more.
Your wooden stick hit wooden puck and aimed it like a rocket;
The object was to sink it into your opponent’s pocket.

It’s kind of retro now, I guess, or maybe just passé.
It’s not the type of game that modern children like to play;
And that is why the set I saw did not evoke a smile,
‘Cause there it was just sitting on a curbside junkheap pile.

It’s sad to reminisce when all those remnants from the past
Remind us how the years have disappeared so very fast;
And all those things we valued once when we were young and brash,
Just like that cool Nok-Hockey set, get thrown out with the trash.

Headache on the Horizon

I drank a glass of cheap red wine
And then I drank another.
A headache will be coming soon,
The kind you cannot smother.

I wonder why, when I was young,
My drinking had no end.
My glass was never empty –
On that fact, you could depend.

But as I age, I shake my head
And really must decline
When someone offers just one more
Tequila, beer or wine.

For if I cave (and did tonight),
I’ll surely pay the price.
One measly drink, in tiny sips,
At this point must suffice.

My younger self was well-equipped
To drink all night for fun,
But sadly now I’m better off
If I imbibe just one.

Pranking the Lemurs

The lemurs perched on branches,
Fluffy tails all hanging down;
Their faces looked like rubber
And their fur was russet brown.

There might have been a dozen
In this part of the display,
When something happened that
I don’t think happens every day.

A piercing, noisy, clamorous
Cacophony of sound
Erupted from these animals;
Their terror was profound.

Such agitation, so intense,
(This was the real megillah)
Was triggered by a man who made
The noise of a gorilla.

I guess it was convincing
For the lemurs were quite crazed;
And those of us who witnessed this
Were equally amazed.

When they calmed down, a child piped up,
“Dad – make that noise again.”
The father acquiesced, to prove
The intellect of men.

The lemurs, though, did not react
For instinct did suffice
To let them recognize the fool
Who’d try to trick them twice.

Sharing a Bed

As newlyweds, our mattress, Full,
Of which we both were fond,
Was perfect for its coziness,
Just like a little pond.

As years went by, we longed for space,
Our sleeping lives at stake.
We traded Full for Queen and so
Our pond became a lake.

But many nights I wake to find
I’m clinging to the shore.
No matter how much room there is,
My husband’s wanting more.

A bigger mattress might appear
To be a prudent notion,
But I prefer a Queen-sized lake
To any King-sized ocean.

I’ll stick with Queen, but wish my spouse
Would give in just a little
And let me dive into my dreams
And slumber in the middle!

Do-Si-Do

Traffic and pedestrians
Perform a do-si-do.
Cityfolk, experienced,
Know just which way to go.

Every last participant,
Of flesh or chrome and steel,
Bows or curtsies to his partner
In this urban reel.

In and out they weave and turn,
Like threads upon a loom.
Out-of-towners watch in awe,
Anticipating doom.

At some point in this promenade
The music stops and then,
The dancers separate until
They’ll do-si-do again.

Worse

Sometimes people feel as if
They’re living with a curse.
If you think about it, though,
Of course, things could be worse.

Life is filled with obstacles
And challenges adverse,
But when you stumble, keep in mind
That some folks have it worse.

Nature’s indiscriminate
When wreckage she’ll disperse,
Yet even if you’ve borne the brunt,
Things might have turned out worse.

Existence has one go-around;
We don’t get to rehearse.
Though critics gnash their teeth and howl,
Still, it could well be worse.

This little pearl of wisdom
Works in any universe;
No matter how you’re suffering,
There’s always room for worse.

For up until the moment when
You’re riding in a hearse,
We never know what lies ahead;
Misfortune may reverse.

The Election

America has made its choice
And many people will rejoice.
For those who chose to disagree,
There’s one thing that’s a guarantee –

Electioneering’s finally done;
The battle fought, the victor won.
So let’s set enmity aside –
Democracy exemplified.

It’s time for each community
To take this opportunity
To come together and unite;
Then everything will be all right.

At least we’ve heard our last debate
And ads designed to denigrate.
The moment’s come for switching gears;
We’ll vote again in four more years.

Vote!

Grab your jacket or your coat;
Head out to the polls.
Here’s your chance to help promote
Your choice at the controls.

Even if your home’s remote,
You’ve got to do your part.
Voting is the antidote
To nations with no heart.

Hurry up – don’t miss the boat;
No time for hesitating.
If you can’t decide, please note
The stakes are escalating.

You won’t get a chance to gloat
If you don’t check your choosing.
What-ifs stick inside the throat
When favorites end up losing.

Keep democracy afloat
And join in the election,
For every single secret vote
Shows freedom’s sweet reflection.

A Wedding

A wedding joins a happy pair
So they can be united
And brings together friends and kin
The couple has invited.

We listen as they pledge their vows
And raise champagne to toast.
We dance and laugh and eat and schmooze
But what I love the most…

Is seeing people I’ve not seen
For far too many years,
‘Cause life with all its obstacles
So often interferes.

Yet there they were – old college chums
And neighbors from the past.
It didn’t matter what travails
Or joys we’d all amassed.

The clocks turned back, but not one hour –
Instead, by twice a score;
And as we reminisced we felt
The way we’d been before:

When we were young and starting out,
Just like the bride and groom,
The future waiting to be filled,
A flower yet to bloom.

At evening’s end we said goodbye
And hugged each other tight,
Delighted that we spent some time
Together for one night.

The newlyweds were glowing
But that magic in the air
Left a dusting of nostalgia
That the rest of us could share.

The Non-Marathon

Today the New York Marathon's
Become a non-event.
The runners' opportunities
To race both came and went.

At first the mayor said it's on,
Despite the storm's destruction;
And then, last minute, pulled the plug
And gave a new instruction.

The racers coming to New York
Most likely were confused;
And those who paid for flights and rooms
I'm sure were not amused.

It's sad that all that training
For this race has come to naught,
The miles of pavement pounded
On each sneaker that was bought.

But certainly the mayor
Could have hurried his decision.
His turnabout last-minute call
Has earned him great derision.

The city wasn't ready yet
To up and celebrate.
The mayor should have known that,
But discovered it too late.

Volunteers

Volunteers were summoned
To bring water and supplies
To the folks in darkened buildings
Since Con Edison's demise.

With their backpacks fully loaded,
They trudged up the pitch-black stairs,
Lugging food and drink but even more -
The fact that someone cares.

For some people who were stranded,
Sitting lonely, in the dark,
Such a visit must have seemed to be
A very welcome spark.

Reaching out to help another
In a time of great distress
Is what elevates existence
And brings order to a mess.

So hats off to all the helpers
Who gave heart and soul and time,
For I'm sure they must be glowing
Though still aching from the climb!

Crutches

A man on crutches passed me by
And sparked some rumination.
We all require some support
To keep in circulation.

It may not be as obvious
As crutches made of wood,
But something helps us get around
And live the lives we should.

Perhaps a person is the means
Of keeping us from falling –
A spouse or relative or friend
Who answers when we’re calling.

A pet may prop us properly, 
Preventing us from flailing;
Or maybe just a lucky charm
Represses a derailing.

Whatever crutches we might use
To navigate our years,
I’m grateful, for their presence
Works to overcome our fears.

Hurricane Stories

When reaching out to check on friends
I found, to my dismay,
So many suffered losses
That I knew not what to say.

With power out and cars destroyed
They’re reeling from the shock.
Some even lost their houses
And are busy taking stock.

The furniture was floating
As the water kept on rising.
Despite the warnings, still reality
Was quite surprising.

I hear such stories and my words
Get stuck inside my throat.
We all believed such damage
In the city was remote.

Though I escaped disastrous harm
I cannot help lament
The misery inflicted by
This staggering event.