Fearless Girl

On Wall Street there's a statue
Of a mean and charging bull.
The tourists love to pose
As his cojones get a pull.

But lately, that same sculpture's
Facing off with someone new - 
A saucy girl in bronze
Who's very full of derring-do.

With hands on hips and knowing grin,
Defiant in her stance,
She seems to pose a challenge
Like, "Hey Bull, you wanna dance?"

The message rings out loud and clear - 
Though men once ruled the world,
You'd better make some room because
Our female flag's unfurled!

To Stare

We teach our children not to stare
But human nature bests us
For seeing someone not the norm,
Despite our efforts, tests us.

The wheelchair-bound, the little folk,
The scarred and the tattooed;
To all who differ from the rest,
Our eyes get drawn and glued.

Of course, we quickly turn away
(Except the rude, who don’t)
But even just that little glance
Reminds us that we won’t

Be able, from our fragile perch
Upon the status quo,
To understand how life must feel
When people view you so.

Stockpile

When I was growing up, one thing
I’d never understand
Was why my mother didn’t keep
Necessities on hand.

I’d find there was no ketchup
For my burger on its bun
And running out of tissues
Wasn’t really too much fun.

Suppose I wanted tuna fish
Or cheese on toasted bread,
Most likely I would have to find
A substitute instead.

It didn’t happen all the time
But just enough that I
Replace all items when they’re low
And that’s the reason why.

So when the toilet paper rolls
Are down to three or four,
I know it’s time to head outside
And buy a whole lot more.

The Spice

What I enjoy might very well be
Something you despise.
The things that light me up may be
Unpleasant to your eyes.

But that’s what makes the world go round;
Variety’s the spice.
What you find unappealing
Could, to me, be paradise.

There are no rights or wrongs when you
Account for someone’s taste.
Endeavors at persuasion,
In most cases, are a waste.

It’s best for all to nod our heads,
Accepting as a fact
That what one finds repellent
May another thus attract.

Fashion-Forward

Elephants get cold, like us
So what, then, could be better
Than putting on a colorful
And hand-knit jumbo sweater?

Some villagers in India,
When temps got down to freezing,
Began to knit so they’d prevent
The pachyderms from sneezing.

The sanctuary photos,
Just in case you don’t believe,
Show a fashion-forward elephant
With each leg in a sleeve.

I say hats off to those knitters!
They deserve to win a prize
Just for counting all those stitches
To create that jumbo size.

Some Stubborn Snow

Some stubborn snow
Just will not go;
It likes to hang around.
It’s laying low
But as we know
It uglifies the ground.

For city air
Makes white snow rare.
Each day the heaps get grayer;
And those that care
Might even dare
To blame it on the mayor.

Yet very soon
(Perhaps by June)
The sun will melt those piles
And we’ll commune
Each snow-free noon
With spring-like beaming smiles.

Final Page

I’m writing on the final page
Of where I rhyme at home.
My pencil scratches fill the lines
And somehow form a poem.

I’ll proof-read, type and save, then post;
This notebook’s done until
Tomorrow’s writing, which will start
Another book to fill.

Hail, Hail

Without him, there would not have been
The rock and roll we know.
His influence reached far and wide
And still, it seems to grow.

His list of hits could blow your mind;
His duck walk and his hair
Made him such a rare performer
No one else can quite compare.

He had his issues (don’t we all?)
But hearing of his death,
It made me think we owe him
For this genre’s primal breath.

So hail to you, Chuck Berry,
For the stories that you told
With such perfect presentation
That for sure old Ludwig rolled!

Roger and Jen

In twenty-eleven, an Italy tour,
We hung out with Roger and Jen,
Exchanging addresses, though what were the odds
That we might ever see them again?

For with hundreds of miles and quite a few years
In between us, the chances were slim,
But an email popped up – they’d be here in New York
So they reached out, perhaps on a whim.

It was such a delight to connect once again
As we showed them some favorite spots
And at dinner we chatted some more as we filled
In the blanks and connected the dots.

But the biggest surprise, which just knocked off my socks,
Was discovering that, every day,
Roger goes to my site and reads all that I write –
I’m more touched than I know how to say!

The Branches

It’s brilliantly sunny but blustery cold.
The branches are heartily swaying;
And though I grow older, I’m younger than old
(Though I still try to cover the graying).

There’s plenty to time left to savor the days
No matter the sky or the weather,
Though I cannot be sure if a crystal ball gaze
Might reveal myself snapped from my tether.

The future’s a question mark, there’s no debate
So I guess I should live in the now
And delight in the dance that the branches create
For as long as my time will allow.

Chopping Some Ice

I had to chop some ice today
To free my snow-blocked car.
The sun was my assistant,
Helping soften from afar.

I borrowed from the handyman
A strong long-handled tool,
Which worked better than a shovel
And was really kinda cool.

It’s a gratifying feeling
To accomplish what you must
For when taking care of business,
Stress and worry bite the dust.

Directions

People are friendly whenever I’m lost
And helpful with giving advice.
It’s always worth asking when signals get crossed
And often, you needn’t ask twice.

New Yorkers are given a negative rap
For attitudes callous and mean
But all who have knowledge I might want to tap
Make their help appear rather routine.

So if stuck without knowing which way you should go
Scan the crowd for the friendliest face
And most likely, you’ll find yourself back in the know,
Never seeking a wild goose to chase.

Small but Comfortable

My home is small but comfortable
To me and to my spouse.
It doesn’t have the room we’d get
If we lived in a house.

Yet here we raised our children
And we entertained as well.
Our guests felt warm and welcomed,
Least as far as I can tell.

It doesn’t take too much to make
A snug and cozy home,
Just like one need not be Robert Frost
To write a decent poem.

Urban Blight

The railroad tracks pass close to streets
Where residents reside
And from the train, I gazed at views
The windows did provide.

Suburban homes soon segued
Into urban tracks of land
Where population density
Has gained the upper hand.

For every city tree we passed
Had slews of plastic bags
Embedded in its branches
Like a motley mass of flags.

Such a sad display of ugliness,
This scourge of city blight
Really opened up my eyes to
This environmental plight.

I’d gladly pay the nickel tax
To staunch the bag use flow,
But what I wonder is why people
Let the darn things go.

Traces

My grandson traces in a book
To build up pencil skills.
From one car to another
Every wavy line instills

A feeling of accomplishment,
Preparing him to write.
He's like a nested fledgling 
Not quite ready to take flight.

I watch him growing; with each step
That baby he replaces
And soon enough, his childhood
Will exist in merely traces.

Not in Stride

The snow wasn’t much
But the piles are high
And the corners are slushy and wet.
In the clean-up, the plows
Made it hard to get by
And that makes many people upset.

Still, it could have been worse;
Life is close to the norm
Yet there’ll always be those who complain
And I’m certain the next time
We’re hit with a storm
They’ll pipe up with their whining refrain.

Ajar

I hate to keep the windows closed
No matter what the weather,
‘Cause fresh air’s a connection
To the outside, like a tether.

Apartment living has its flaws,
The lack of space most glaring,
But also, there’s no exit out
To see how things are faring.

Except the windows, which, to me,
Must always stay ajar
(Or open wide when temps outside
Will let me raise the bar).

The breeze wafts in and, like today,
Commingles with the heat,
Reminding me the day awaits,
The world outdoors to greet.

Stella

There once was a blizzard named Stella
Too powerful for an umbrella
            But she petered out
            Losing all of her clout
Like a post-midnight-clothed Cinderella.

Her wind is still whipping around
But as for the snow on the ground
            It’s in inches, not feet
            Which must be bittersweet
For the ones who hoped she’d be renowned.

The Hat

The hat was quite a stunner
With a huge and fancy brim.
An older woman tried it on,
It seemed like on a whim.

The salesgirl was encouraging,
Declaring it unique
And certainly, the wearer
Would possess her own mystique.

The tryer-on-er caught my eye,
Like secrets we were swapping,
And said out loud, “It’s just the thing
I’d wear to go out shopping.”

Was that a joke? I didn’t know
But I contained my yucks
Because the salesgirl mentioned
That it cost 400 bucks.

This happened in a gift shop
In a gallery of art.
I left before that buyer
And her hat were forced to part.

Cellino and Barnes*

Did you ever wake up with
A tune in your head
That, despite your best efforts,
You just cannot shed?

Well, it’s happened to me
And I really can’t take it
For, try as I might,
I just can’t seem to shake it.

The worst of it is,
It’s a jingle, you see,
And it’s from a commercial
I’ve seen on TV.

Two lawyers* on screen
Vow to get you big bucks
If you’re injured by taxis
Or autos or trucks.

Their ditty is catchy –
No need for debates –
And their phone number’s 800
Followed by 8’s.

They seem like nice guys
So I hate to complain
But I wish that their song
Would bail out of my brain!

To Boot

Henry’s foot was hurting
Walking in his winter boots.
It was his only pair, so there
Could be no substitutes.

We got back home and soon enough,
The cause was made quite clear,
For from one boot out tumbled
A Potato Head’s toy ear!

His little sister loves to stash
Things where they don’t belong.
I thought that shoes and boots were safe,
But that’s where I was wrong.

In desert climes, most people check
For scorpions in shoes.
Although it's toys I’ll search for,
It’s a tactic I’ll now use!

Glow in the Dark

When my son was a boy
In his bedroom, at night,
All the stars on his ceiling
Were subtly bright.

They were randomly stuck there
But looked, when they glowed,
Like the heavens above
And the stars that they showed.

With just one little glitch,
Which my son has corrected
(And, knowing him well,
Which I should have expected).

For on his son's ceiling,
All lookers can dig
Constellations, like Dippers,
Both Little and Big.

Cassiopeia's there
And Orion is, too.
Come visit and Henry
Will show them to you.

When something we've given
Our children takes hold
And is shared and improved on,
That's grandparent gold.

Buying a Dress

Invited to some weddings,
It was time to buy a dress.
The thought of such an effort
Was enough to give me stress.

I went to a department store,
A place I rarely shop,
But kept my fingers crossed that it
Would be my only stop.

I found some possibilities
And went to try them on,
Evaluating each with
Mental lists of pro and con.

This one too short, that one too young,
Another had a rip
And one was kind of cute but really
Just too hard to zip.

And then – voila! One made me smile,
A perfect length and size.
I felt like Cinderella
In her godmother disguise.

I paid and took it home and now
There’s no need to despair
For when those weddings roll around
I know what I will wear.

International Women's Day

I had planned to go shopping.
That changed when I read
That we women should opt
Out of buying instead.

There’s a movement at hand
To see how folks would like
Being out in the world
With the women on strike.

Without women in stores,
Holding back what we’d spend,
Maybe second-class status
Against us might end.

That won’t happen, of course,
But if it makes a dent
Then I’m glad that today
I did not spend a cent.

And in place of a dressing room,
Trying on clothes,
I’m enjoying the park -
My reward, I suppose.

Tap Water

In other cities, do they ask
Which water you’d prefer?
A sparkling kind (they’ll charge you)
Or the tap? (free, you’d infer).

For New York City water
Has a fresh and bracing taste.
Any reason to refuse it
Would be bogus and misplaced.

Other H2O’s, I’ve noticed,
Have a real metallic tang,
Like the pipes were old and rusty
In the place from which they sprang.

But when New York City dining,
In a restaurant or dive,
Answer “tap” to any waiter
And don’t fall for any jive.

Territory

He kicked the bag with all his might
And cans came flying out.
The passersby looked on in fright,
The reason not in doubt.

It was a turf war, plain as day.
This urban enterprise
Provides some with their daily pay
And rule of thumb applies.

Another kick, another bag,
With empties raining down,
The loser waiting out the jag,
Not challenging the crown.

The kicker, finished, ambled past,
His bags conveyed on wheels,
While those of us who watched, aghast,
Had no clue how that feels.

The Mall

This mall is quite gigantic,
Filled with every type of store.
It even boasts a Ferris wheel,
Which families adore.

The food court, rife with choices,
Is right near the carousel,
Both attracting all the parents,
Beneficial clientele.

There’s a gym and, yes, a dentist!
Climbing platforms for the kids,
So it isn’t universal
That all malls are on the skids.

We just went to pass some hours
On a Sunday afternoon
Which the weather (cold and windy!)
Made seem very opportune.

The Deli Man

Not everyone does it, but how I adore
A generous person who works in a store;
Specifically, one who's behind in the deli,
Who slices the meats and the cheese for the belly.

Today, for example, I ordered some cheese
And turkey, my grandson down next to my knees,
His hungry impatience apparent to all;
But just as it seemed he'd resort to a bawl

The counterman offered some turkey, a taste.
Disaster averted and hunger erased.
The guy was a stranger who sized up the scene
Or maybe, to him this was strictly routine.

It doesn't take much to connect with a smile
Yet to many, such actions are not in their style.
The deli employee, for such a small price,
Can improve someone's day just by cutting a slice.

Off Center Stage

The babies babble; then they talk.
They crawl, then stand and soon they walk,
Delighting in their new-found skills;
Observing them gives non-stop thrills.

But as they grow, they'll find some friends
And as their circle thus extends,
Our star will fade as it should do
Though hopefully, our love's the glue

To hold them fast as time goes by
Without the need for how or why.
Yet wistfulness creeps in as age
Bumps most of us off center stage.

Personal Space

Tell me why this happens,
‘Cause I would love to know –
I go to see a movie
At an early morning show.

The theater’s mostly empty
So I choose and seat, but whoa!
Soon a couple plops their bodies
Right beside me in my row!

They leave just one seat between us
But annoyance starts to grow
For there’s seating in the hundreds
And this move seems kind of low.

Guess my angry vibe is blatant.
They move one seat over, though
I will never understand this;
But that’s just the way things go.

Half of Congress

Half of Congress stood and clapped;
The other half stayed seated.
Was that mentioned later on
When POTUS likely Tweeted?

He had to see a sea of white
For, like the Suffragettes,
The women in the audience
Don’t take that well to threats.

The country seems to be the same,
Divided straight in half.
If it were not so scary,
It might even rate a laugh.