Hobbling

I hobbled to the river

Which was worth each step of pain.

My bench and sunshine beckoned

So my walk was not in vain.

 

The early hour guaranteed

No crowds would block my views;

The sparkle of the water

Would be something sad to lose.

 

There’s not a single thing right now,

While sitting, that I lack

But a better knee would help

When I begin my hobble back.

The Month is Drawing to a Close

The month is drawing to a close 

And soon, to drift by every nose 

Will be the scent of lilac, rose

And all the scented flowers.

The leaves on trees will next unfurl 

And mostly every boy and girl

Will give new shorts and tees a whirl,

Imbued with sunshine’s powers.

The ice cream truck will ring its bell

With lots of frozen treats to sell,

As May prepares to sit a spell,

Refreshed by April’s showers.

Baffled

The squirrels always ate the seed

I’d used to fill the feeder.

They’d shimmy up the pole to follow

One brave soul, the leader.

Whenever I glanced out and saw

A squirrel up there munching,

I’d step outside and stomp my feet,

Which stopped unwelcome lunching.

But in a minute, they’d be back,

With cunning and with daring.

My foot stomps and some yelling

Didn’t seem to do much scaring.

Yet at my son’s today I felt 

Like I had won a raffle.

The birds were at the feeder

‘Neath which hung a brand-new baffle.

The squirrels searched the ground below 

In hopes of cast-off smidgens,

As baffled by the baffle as

Their world would be to pigeons.

A To-Do List

I can’t resist a To-Do list.

In fact, I’m an enthusiast

For pads and pencils must exist

So chores are taken care of.

 

Such itemizing does assist

Me in my day or I’d have missed

Important tasks which might consist

Of deadlines to beware of.

 

Though some objections may persist,

To me, they’re easily dismissed.

Without my list, my mind would twist

In ways I would despair of.

Plugging Away

Some days I don’t feel that inspired;

Perhaps I am down or just tired.

It could be the blues

Or maybe my muse

Has gotten too old and retired.

Still, I will keep plugging away

Since there’s still quite a lot I can say.

With my pencil in hand

Words are at my command

So I’ll lasso a few to come stay.

Then I tame them and get them in line

‘Til the rhymes and the rhythms entwine.

The results that I seek,

With a tug and a tweak,

Might be what I’ll be proud to call mine.

Public Prayer

A high school coach dropped to his knees 

At the end of every game 

To offer up a prayer to God;

Most players did the same.

It was a public high school

And this happened on the field.

When other teams were asked to join,

This practice was revealed.

The coach was asked to stop because

The realms of church and state

Are meant to be kept separate,

Which the courts must regulate.

However, lately, more and more,

Religion’s gaining ground

And cases like this one

In public schools are often found.

And now a lawsuit’s made it

To our very highest Court.

Considering our justices,

I’m dreading the report.

Shouldn’t Have Gotten

We shouldn’t have gotten the shed

For I’m sure you can guess where it’s led -

Saving things we don’t need;

With it gone, guaranteed,

We’d throw things in the garbage instead.

Now the mice have a place they can hide

When it’s freezing or raining outside.

They leave droppings behind

Which, of course, I will find

And I can’t seem to take it in stride.

I should simply just clean the shed out

For there isn’t the tiniest doubt

That the things I have saved 

Make me look quite depraved

Which confirms what this poem is about.

 

No Such Thing

There’s no such thing as normal

For we’re each of us unique,

From our styles – blasé or formal –

To our hairdos or physique.

 

What we read or eat or order,

Where we visit, shop or sleep,

If we’ve come from ‘cross a border

Or tend flowers or raise sheep…

 

We are like no other being

For, no matter what we’re taught,

We all have a way of seeing

Tailored to the truths we’ve brought.

 

All our daily interactions,

Each experience we know,

Either blinds us with distractions

Or directs us where to go.

 

Yet the slights and hurts assemble

And accumulate as well,

Meshed with joys ‘til we resemble

All that lives within our shell.

My Knees

My knees have helped me always.

From my crawling toddlerhood

To my trike, then 2-wheeled riding,

If I needed them, they would…

 

Let me walk for many miles,

Help me climb up many stairs;

Do aerobics in a gym class,

Reach for shelves from tops of chairs.

 

On my knees, I’ve dug and planted

Bulbs so daffodils would grow.

I’ve bent down to tie a thousand shoes,

Scrubbed floors so they would glow.

 

I have jogged and danced and boogied

And played lots of running sports

And throughout, my knees have given me

The greatest of supports.

 

But at last, with age advancing,

From some things I must refrain

For my trusty knees have lately

Just provided me with pain.

The Circle

We learn to sit and then to crawl

Because our view is just too small.

From crawling next we start to walk;

Confinements only make us balk.

 

Once we can walk, we learn to run;

Our exploration has begun

And once adulthood is unfurled,

We head on out to see the world.

 

The years flash by; our running days

Return us to a former phase.

Again we walk, with waning pep,

Reverting to a slower step.

 

We skip the crawl but soon see fit

To find a cozy place to sit

And once we’re settled in a seat,

We know life’s circle is complete.

Growing Up and Liking It

At 13 years of age, a pamphlet

Showed up in my home.

My mother bought it, not to be

The subject of a poem.

 

It was intended to explain

(A lecture would be worse)

The facts of menstruation,

Often called the “woman’s curse.”

 

Modess, a manufacturer

Of sanitary pads,

Produced the booklet; it cost

Just a quarter; they made scads.

 

The title always bothered me,

For what would be the need

To try to get young girls to like

A messy monthly bleed?

 

A novel I am reading

Brought this little pamphlet back.

A character is using it

For knowledge she does lack.

 

It’s rare to find a copy

So on Amazon they’re hiking it

To almost 90 bucks, another

Reason for not liking it.

Revival

A plant I thought was dead is not;

It needed water, quite a lot.

Yet from its soil, I’d have bet

That it was moist or even wet.

 

It made me think that people, too,

May not be what you thought you knew

For those bogged down by stress or strife

Might be, with care, brought back to life.

 

The trick is knowing what they need,

Though some attention’s guaranteed

To even reach the ones most glum,

Despite the lack of verdant thumb.

In the Clouds

When someone’s head was in the clouds

It wasn’t really meant

To flatter; rather as a put-down,

That was the intent.

 

For clouds were puffs of fluffiness

Where nothing could be found

And one whose head was there did not

Have two feet on the ground.

 

Yet now there’s been a major shift

Since everyone’s on board

With reaching up into the Cloud,

Where everything is stored.

Easter Sunday

Parking spots are plentiful

Just like they used to be.

The promenade is empty –

On the benches, only me.

 

It’s Passover and Easter;

Folks are visiting their friends

Or families to celebrate

Before the daylight ends.

 

They’re either eating matzoh balls

Or possibly, a ham

With lots of homemade goodies

For desserts for all to cram.

 

I don’t know what the Easter people

Drink, but in New York,

We Pesach* folk drink Manischewitz,

Wine without a cork.

 

*Passover

Psychic

There’s a sign on the street for a Psychic

With a special – 5 bucks for a read

Of your palm or by using the Tarot;

It sounds like a bargain, indeed.

 

But I do not believe; I’m a cynic

And I think that if I changed my mind,

I would not want a peek at the future

For I might not like what I would find.

 

Still, when I see that sign I imagine

What you see in a movie or show

As the seer turns a card and I wonder

If she knows what she’s claiming to know.

Frozen Dessert

Our freezer must always have ice cream.

A low supply sends an alert

But my husband’s last trip to the market

Brought home something called “frozen dessert.”

 

The packaging looked just like always.

We missed the distinction at first

So we ate it, but knowing the difference,

I thought we should have been reimbursed.

 

For a “frozen dessert” needs no dairy –

Just some fillers and sugars and oil

As compared to what’s used to make ice cream;

Well, the thought makes my blood start to boil.

 

Now I’ve learned to read all of the labels

Since dessert-wise, my number 1 goal

Is to know that my favorite flavor

Of ICE CREAM gets put in my bowl.

Broken Plans

Plans are often broken;

That’s just the way it goes.

Though written down or spoken,

We should still be on our toes.

 

For all the best intentions

May topple and collapse

And all our interventions

Might not fill in all the gaps.

 

We may feel bummed and thwarted

But the only worthwhile course

Is to have Plan B supported

Or to wallow in remorse.

The Shooter

The shooter from the train was sought

When police received a tip

And now it seems that he’s been caught;

To jail he’ll take a trip.

 

You’d think that in New York he’d find

So many spots to hide

Where he could leave no trace behind

With lots of time to bide.

 

Yet rarely someone in a scrape

(Or worse) evades the law

For each attempt at swift escape

Contains a fatal flaw.

 

New Yorkers now must heave a sigh

But not just of relief.

Despite the fact they caught the guy,

We’re filled with fear and grief.

A Total Surprise

Sometimes in life there’s a total surprise

That’s so unexpected you have to surmise

What’s happening right there in front of your eyes

Is not quite as real as it seems.

 

It’s something you’ve hoped for but didn’t expect,

For out of the blue you would never suspect

A stranger to reach out and help to inject

Reality into your dreams.

 

The ups and the downs that we face every day

In the light of good news could start fading away.

We can’t count on good luck, but at times it just may

Be a factor in fate’s cryptic schemes.

Pat-Down

My husband’s hip’s titanium

So he’s accustomed to

A pat-down at the airport,

Right in everybody’s view.

 

Yet ‘til now I’ve not experienced

An agent treating me

Like I’m a lowlife criminal

Who just might up and flee.

 

She touched my arms (extended),

Then my waist and hips and back

And next, each thigh up to the groin.

(How she deserved a smack!)

 

She let me know beforehand

That my buttocks she would feel

And when she did I thought

That all of it was just surreal.

 

I guess I was a random pick

But I was awful pissed

To be treated, out in public,

Like a thug or terrorist.

Memorial

A family gathers from afar

By plane and then by rental car 

To celebrate a life cut short 

With poignant mem’ries holding court.

There will be speeches, songs and tears

And recollections of the years

We got to share with someone who

Uplifted everyone she knew.

We’re never ready for a loss 

But times like these, what comes across

Is how one person can depart

Yet stay alive in every heart.

Colorado Weather

In the sun it’s boiling hot;

In the shade it’s cold.

Don’t think I complain a lot

Just because I’m old.  

My two brothers live here; one

Loves all the mountains’ range

Of weather, from when snow’s begun

In summertime, so strange.

The other doesn’t live so high;

It’s warmer, but still crazy.

One minute there’s a clear blue sky;

Next minute, all is hazy.

The temps, they toggle up and down

By varying degrees

And when you’re in a mountain town, 

Just be prepared to freeze.

It’s hard to know how one should dress

With fluctuations so.

This weather can cause mucho stress

Unless you let it go.

How Flying Feels

This is how an airport feels -

Crowded, hot and teeming.

Lines that wrap around and ‘round;

Babes and toddlers screaming.

Masks on every face except

So many noses showing

And no one to remind them of what

They should all be knowing.

Screeners who take pleasure in

Enthusiastic groping.

Stressed out families schlepping

So much stuff they’re barely coping.

Loud announcements reinforce 

The social distance ruling;

Gazing at the hordes you wonder

If they might be fooling.

Get on board and find a seat

And finally, you’re flying.

If you can, you calm yourself;

Believe me - I am trying.

Waiting for News

When you’re sitting and waiting for news

You must learn to observe certain cues

Or be seen as a pest

When each update request

May precipitate blowing a fuse.

 

Though your reason for hoping to share

In new knowledge is just that you care,

Still, as time passes by,

You start wondering why

You are out of the loop, unaware.

 

Sometimes waiting won’t give you a break,

Causing thoughts that you simply can’t shake,

But just try to distract

For it’s best not to act

Or you’ll find you have made a mistake.

Picture-Taking

On a summer break from college,

When I traveled ‘cross the sea,

My new Instamatic camera

Made the trip (plus film) with me.

 

Later on, I graduated

To a camera with a case

And the kind of film you had to wind,

Much harder to replace.

 

Thus, for parties or vacations,

I would always be prepared

To snap pictures then make copies

So the images were shared.

 

That was all before our cell phones

Came with cameras installed.

Now I’m always at the ready

If a photo moment’s called.

 

When technology’s updated,

I am mostly quite inept,

But I so prefer my iPhone

To the cameras I once schlepped.

Hey, Kids!

Hey, kids – know what time it is?

If you’re like me, well, I’m

Remembering just what that meant –

“It’s Howdy Doody time!”

 

Now Howdy was a puppet

On a children’s TV show.

(Technically, a marionette,

In case you’d want to know.)

 

From 1947,

It was on for thirteen years,

Five days a week, before we ever

Heard of Mouseketeers.

 

With Clarabell the Clown

And host Bob Smith, we got to see

Some lucky kids who made it to

The Peanut Gallery.*

 

My buddies from the block all went

But I was in the dumps

Because I couldn’t join them,

Stuck at home, sick with the mumps.

 

Last Sunday, though, I got the chance,

So many years past due,

To go to a museum

Where some puppets were on view.

 

And there was Howdy Doody –

Freckled, smiling, on his strings,

With boots, plaid shirt and dungarees –

The memories he brings!

 

It made my day to see him,

So my grown-up self could greet

Such a symbol of my childhood

And a perfect birthday treat.

 

*the seating area for guest children

My Husband's Socks

My husband has a bunch of socks

He wears to exercise,

They’re crew length, white and all the same,

The kind he always buys.

 

So how then does he pair them up

When laundry time rolls ‘round

And from the dryer, there they sit

In one huge messy mound?

 

No problem, since he’s found a way

To make a perfect match.

Each pair receives a marking

So it stands out from the batch.

 

The letters of the alphabet,

With Sharpies, are employed

To help identify the mates.

(Compulsive, Dr. Freud?)

 

Two A’s, two B’s and on and on

Makes sorting such a breeze

Until the socks get old and interest

Fades by some degrees.

 

So that is why I noticed

On my husband’s foot a sock

With letter C although its mate

Has P writ large – a shock!

Birthday Rhyme

Some cards, some texts and going strong,

Renditions of the birthday song

All came my way and, right on cue,

I also got a gift or two.

 

Purple tulips, key lime pie

From my spouse remind me why

I’m lucky that my life extends

To loving husband, kin and friends.

 

The rain won’t any frowns impart;

We’ll head out soon to see some art,

Then stop to have a meal and beer

At some new Thai place close to here.

 

It’s lovely on my birthday date

To smile and get to celebrate,

Especially since, while at home,

I’ve managed to complete my poem.

To Be Spontaneous

It’s good to be spontaneous,

Not stick to any plan.

Be free to do most anything

You feel like, when you can.

 

Yet that won’t work for everyone

And that’s including me.

I like to know just how I’ll get

From A to B to C.

 

I’m more at ease when schedules

Are plotted out and set,

With reservations made and all

Arrangements to be met.

 

Still, I admire anyone

Who’s wired in a way

Allowing for decisions made

Last minute, come-what-may.

 

At times, I’ve hoped spontaneous

Might be where I belong,

But, with a few exceptions,

My attempts all worked out wrong.

April Fools

April is the month for fools,

At least today, the first,

When pranks are played and joking rules 

As logic is reversed.

It’s been around for many years,

Observed both here and there,

With hoaxes ending not in tears,

But laughter meant to share.

To get in spirit, pull a gag

To fool your kith or kin.

Shake off your doldrums - time to snag 

That silliness within.