Stuck in the Middle

The window seat provides a view
Of clouds and bright blue sky.
It’s where you likely want to sit
When it’s your turn to fly.

The aisle gives easy access
If your bladder needs to void.
Just pop right up and seatmates
Never have to be annoyed.

But what remains if by some chance
You wait to choose a seat?
Being stuck right in the middle
Where you’ll settle in defeat.

When Window wants to move, you must
Unbuckle and step out
And you’re disturbing Aisle
If you need to move about.

The dreaded middle seat’s for those
Who just ran out of luck.
Without accessibility or views,
You’re merely stuck!

Family Dynamics

On the surface, things are fine;
Smiles are filled with teeth,
But you never really know
What's roiling underneath.

Sometimes tiny fissures form
Releasing and revealing
Resentments tucked away that you
Believed were long past healing.

Moving forward there's a choice - 
To deal or to pretend,
But talking is the only way
That there's a chance to mend.

Hack Attack

"I had to travel suddenly.
I'm Indonesia-bound.
My cousin needs a kidney
And that's just where one was found.

I left the States so suddenly
I didn't bring much cash,
So can you send some money soon?
I know this may sound brash...

But all I need's 2,000 bucks - 
Okay, 800 more.
It isn't really very much
Because of what it's for."

This message went to everyone
My email's ever reached.
I guess you've figured out by now
That my account was breached.

I've heard from friends from years ago
To check to see, in fact,
If this were true or merely
The result of being hacked.

I'm grateful, yes, for their concern
But hope, with fingers crossed,
That no one fell for this and thus,
No money has been lost.

The folks who know me best, of course,
Knew right off it was fake
For it was written with a huge
Grammatical mistake!

TCB

A day you hadn’t planned on
When you get to stay at home
Is the perfect time for TCB
(Or jotting down a poem).

Go through closets, pay some bills,
Read a magazine;
Cook or bake or take the time
To actually clean.

Write an email, make a call,
Catch up on some shows;
Dive into the novel that
Your book club did propose.

Having time for TCB’s
A rare and special treat.
Take advantage but beware –
Between the chores, you eat!

Wrong!

The storm was called historic
Before it even hit,
The weathermen euphoric,
As reports they did submit.

They closed the subways and the schools;
Prevented cars from driving.
The pols used all their lofty tools
For snow not yet arriving.

The Broadway theaters shut their doors;
Museums followed suit.
The gyms were shuttered and the stores,
Decisions resolute.

And after all was said and done,
The blizzard never came.
Though all were wrong, there wasn’t one
Who’d shoulder any blame.

Defensively the bigwigs boast,
“We made the right decision;”
But I am one of quite a host
Who view them with derision.

Tip of the Iceberg

I made a small declutter vow
To get myself unstuck
That every day I’ll toss one thing
And so far, I’m in luck.

My travel guides from years ago
To places I have been
Were easy things for me to trash,
A good place to begin.

Some macramé for hanging plants,
A box of potpourri
And dinnerware with chips or cracks
Were thrown away by me.

Of course, I’m near the very tip
(The iceberg’s down below),
But every day I’ll chip away
And find one thing to throw.

For sentimental fools like me
This takes a lot of thought.
Too bad the empty space will fill
With new stuff I have bought!

Blizzard Warning

The sky looks clear and though the temps
Are not exactly warm,
The weatherman's predicting
There will be a major storm.

The blizzard warning's on the horn,
The airlines pulling flights;
Anxiety starts ratcheting
To Xanax-taking heights.

At times I wish for days gone by
When storms were a surprise.
We didn't have alerts
So then we couldn't agonize.

Of course we're better off today
So we can be prepared,
But being clueless, so much stress
Would happily be spared.

First Sled

When snowflakes fall, the sleds come out
As children run and jump and shout

With boots and scarves and runny noses
(Also mittens, one supposes)

Frolicking in fresh white snow,
Their rosy cheeks and smiles a’glow.

Can anything make winter’s case
Like joy on any toddler’s face

As, in his new boots, he’s astride
His shiny sled for that first ride?

It’s messy, yes, and cold and wet
But no one watching, I would bet,

Would trade that winter glee he’s got
To live where weather’s always hot.

Betty and Veronica

Central Park has grizzly bears
(Don’t worry – in the zoo)
Residing in the habitat
The polar bear once knew.

While visiting the park today
I saw them in their lair;
With one asleep and one stretched out,
They didn’t seem to care.

Their given names, to comic buffs,
Will bring a little smile,
As Betty and Veronica
Explore their domicile.

It’s nice to know the animals
By name, but there’s one hitch –
We’d need an Archie bear as well
To tell us which is which.

Sniper Baby

Saw “The Sniper.” Marveled at
The way it did reveal
The brutal truth the soldiers faced
And how it seemed so real.

The bombed-out buildings, guns and tanks,
The blood, the gore, the sweat –
Each detail rendered perfectly,
A work of genius – yet…

The only scene that got it wrong
Surprised me to no end,
When actors with a new-born baby
Struggled to pretend

The doll that they were holding
Was a living, breathing soul.
I wonder how they managed
To exert such self-control.

The audience was not convinced;
That “baby” looked so fake.
Clint Eastwood, the director,
Clearly made a huge mistake.

Though all the war scenes were the most
Realistic you can find,
That phony stand-in baby doll
Completely blew my mind.

I Like...

I like my earrings dangling.
I like my coffee hot.
I like to be real early;
(It’s too late if on the dot.)

I like my bagel seeded.
I like a hoppy beer.
I like a restaurant casual
With dim-lit atmosphere.

I like my pencils sharpened.
I like the weather cold.
I like to browse the shops
Where lots of crafty things are sold.

I like when my surroundings
And my psyche do agree,
For when they don’t, you’ll see the side
I do not like of me.

The Card Table

My mah jongg buddies came today
(We’re 5 if all are able)
And thus it was my turn, as host,
To prep the folding table.

It mostly lives behind my bed,
Its metal legs tucked in,
Where it just sits and gathers dust
Until the games begin.

We play but once a month and then
We rotate where we meet
And when the table’s center stage,
The set-up is complete.

The game is over, friends have gone;
The table’s bedroom-bound,
All folded up and tucked away
Until the next go-round.

Hopelessly Stuck

I’m stuck in the present
And stuck in the past.
I’m all out of room
From the stuff I’ve amassed.

The future may beckon
But I can’t respond
Because I’m so stuck
I can’t see the beyond.

Where once I possessed
Much more moxie and pluck,
Today I’m depleted
And hopelessly stuck.

The Closing of the Malls

A lot of malls are closing
(As I found out in the news)
‘Cause empty stores must equal
A decline in revenues.

For many folks despise the trip –
The traffic, parking, gas –
Especially when Amazon
Has bargains that surpass.

With just one click, your every wish
Comes true at your command
And you don’t have to schlep those bags,
So heavy in your hand.

A way of life is passing by,
For better or for worse
And soon our homes will be the measure
Of our universe.

To Catch a Cough

When I was young, a coughing child
Who followed Mom’s commands
Would quickly cover up his mouth
With both his little hands.

Of course, he likely spread his germs
To all that he would touch
But years would pass and protocol
Would not change very much.

Today, however, that’s taboo.
You’ll get a nasty look
If coughs or sneezes aren’t caught
In your arm’s closest crook.

I have to thus remind myself,
(The older way’s ingrained)
But lately in my armpit
My contagion has remained.

I wonder why it took so long
To add up two and two
And decide a cough in hand contains
Some germs within that goo.

To All Who...

To all who paint or sculpt or write,
To all who cook or knit –
Resist the urge, when criticized,
To simply up and quit.

To those who dance or sing or act,
To those who spar or race –
Remember what you do is yours
To discard or embrace.

Ignore the critics who say nay
And disregard their gloom,
For only you can nurture
What’s within and make it bloom.

The Tucker

A puzzle piece gets tucked away
Inside a resting boot
And Henry, who's the tucker,
Finds this type of thing a hoot.

A book is likewise hidden
In a laundry pail or drawer
Where, if someone isn't watching,
We won't find it anymore.

This hide and seek's adorable
Though it comes with a cost,
For it's just a stroke of luck so far
That nothing has been lost!

In Someone's Shoes

Put yourself in someone’s shoes
And gaze from that perspective.
Doing that may give you pause
Or cause to be reflective.

Judging others isn’t fair
Unless we’ve lived their lives.
What tactics we’d reject might be
How somebody survives.

It’s easy to condemn or praise
From knowledge one construes,
But we might sing a different tune
In someone else’s shoes.

A Dash of Dill

A dash of dill is never dull;
It gives the soup some flavor.
With salt and several seasonings,
It helps the sipper savor.

The dried variety is fine
But if you’ve ever tasted
The fresh one, you will not go back
Though often, much is wasted.

For all you need’s a stalk or two
And it gets sold in bunches.
I have no call to sprinkle it
On breakfasts or in lunches.

My split pea soup is most delish;
It chases winter’s chill,
But in my fridge next week, you’ll find
A mess of wilty dill.

In the Garden of Eden

In the Garden of Eden, if I were Eve,
There’s one thing that you must believe –
Although temptation still would call,
An apple wouldn’t cause my fall.

Yet no one is immune to fate
And so I wouldn’t hesitate
To violate forbidden code
For apple pie – if a la mode!

The Plumber

The plumber came to fix a leak
That he repaired the other week.
"Defective part," is what he said,
Though I think "Shoddy work" instead.

This second visit had no charge.
(The first one had a fee quite large.)
We'll see if this time there's no drip
Requiring a triple trip.

Perhaps I'm simply rather dumb
But if a plumber cannot plumb,
He should admit he's not the type
And blame himself and not the pipe!

Mutual Enjoyment

It’s great to open up your house
To those who take delight
In all the ways you have to make them
Glad for the invite.

For sharing what you’ve worked so hard
To get and make your own
Is a cut above the pleasure you
Experience alone.

A visit, with a snack or meal,
Lets visitor and host
Have some mutual enjoyment;
That’s a better day than most!

At the Mussel Restaurant

At the mussel restaurant
You order up a pot.
Ceremoniously, they’re served,
Piled high and piping hot.

Scoop some shells and use your tiny
Fork to pull the meat.
Sop the sauce with crusty bread,
Each bite a tasty treat.

Sip a draft beer and relax
For everything’s all right.
A mussel feast’s the perfect way
To welcome Friday night.

The High Line

Elevated railroad tracks
Abandoned long ago
Have been transformed into a place
Where grass and flowers grow.

With benches made of wood or stone
And artwork interspersed,
The desolation and despair
Have all but been reversed.

If visiting the city
Is a plan that you have made
Then walk upon the High Line
And behold what’s there displayed.      

It’s part and parcel of the town
But also quite unique
So stroll the High Line if
A New York feeling’s what you seek.

Once They're Grown

Siblings scatter once they’re grown
And keep in touch by text or phone
So visits may be spread apart
Despite the nearness in one’s heart.

It’s strange to think that they once shared
Their childhood years, which then prepared
The paths they’d choose to venture on;
Then poof! That common life is gone.

For lucky ones, the bond remains
Though hugs require cars or planes
But miles and years can’t cut the ties
That only siblings recognize.

A Taste of Snow

We had a taste of snow today
To whet the appetite,
Reminding us that winter’s offers
Pack a little bite.

I wasn’t really ready for
The season’s full-course meal,
For sleet and ice and zero temps
Don’t hold that much appeal.

But just a little palate tease
Was wake-up call enough
So when the second course is served,
I’ll not call Nature’s bluff.

The Cable Guy

The cable guy showed up at 5
And what was most surprising
Was not that he arrived on time
With no one compromising,

But rather that he did his job
And fixed what wasn’t working
(Although I won’t be shocked
If other problems might be lurking).

So far, so good. With fingers crossed,
I’m watching my TV.
The cable guy was nice, but still
There is no guarantee.

Manspread

A scourge on subways is the guy
Whose legs are widely splayed
So those who want to sit won’t try –
They’re shy or just afraid.

His manspread takes two seats at least
As if it is his right,
Though others think this selfish beast
Is more than impolite.

The MTA*’s creating ads
To focus on these guys,
Though likely such obnoxious cads
Will never compromise.

I wish I had the kind of nerve
To challenge such a man
And give him what he does deserve –
A kick right in the can!

*Metropolitan Transit Authority

Stuffing

If you’re bored or nervous
Do what most of us embrace.
Head out to the kitchen
And proceed to stuff your face.

Popcorn, pretzels, nachos -
Even chocolate has its place –
Fill a bowl or grab the bag,
Sit down and stuff your face.

Though you may feel guilty,
You’re not lone in your disgrace.
It’s a universal vice –
The stuffing of one’s face.

CRS

With aging comes a malady
Which worsens bit by bit.
At first it's just annoying
And can find you in a snit.

It isn't physical and won't
Affect your smarts or wit,
But rather it attacks your mind
And causes thoughts to flit.

You think of something you must do
But then you must admit
The plan you just had in your mind
Has somehow seemed to split.

If this description sounds to you
Like something that might fit,
You're suffering from CRS - 
That's Can't Remember .....Spit!

Wipe the Slate

Wipe the slate and greet the year;
It’s the best of choices.
Let the sorrows disappear
As everyone rejoices.

Things could always be much worse,
We always keep forgetting.
Shift to drive and leave reverse –
What’s over needs no fretting.

Venture out and face the day
And feel the sunshine’s healing.
Find some joy in life’s bouquet
And focus on that feeling.