One Half

A sailboat floats without a sail.

It’s like a shovel minus pail

Or else a hammer sans a nail,

One half of what is needed.

 

A tennis court without a net,

An error made with no regret;

A workout lacking any sweat,

A rye bread that’s unseeded.

 

A birthday passing with no cake,

A pile of leaves without a rake.

In every case, a true mistake

If no one interceded.

SHED

One house we pass when walking

Has a paint job, spanking new.

New owners must have bought it,

‘Cause that’s what new owners do.

 

Adjacent to the house there was

A sign which simply said,

In letters big and bold, one word –

No more or less, just SHED.

 

We figured that the owners

Maybe planned to be away

When someone came to place a shed

Where they’d like it to stay.

 

But weeks went by and nothing changed,

The sign still saying SHED,

Until one day, there was

A little building there instead.

 

My husband said, “It’s magic!”

So he thought he’d follow through,

Hoping that his sign – “2 CAR GARAGE”

Will make his wish come true.

Country Bugs

The moths get through the screen somehow

And when I walk outside,

The gnats and skeeters buzz around - 

There’s no place you can hide.

The ants, at times, invade the house

And maybe, curled up tight,

A millipede will show, which is

A most unwelcome sight.

I haven’t seen the bees or wasps

But spiders must be here.

Their webs and those entrapped provide

The proof that they are near.

The country’s filled with bugs galore

And we can coexist,

But once they’re on my turf 

The handy swatter I enlist.

One Man’s Treasure

An antique store’s the perfect place

To browse among the shelves

And see the past through objects

People sloughed off of themselves.

From dolls to clothes to dishes,

Chairs and glassware, mirrors, books,

The rooms are stacked with memories 

Whichever way one looks.

Each item once held meaning 

For its owner, likely dead,

Or living in a place with

Much less cluttering instead.

The browsers mostly look

But sometimes dig inside for cash

To cart home new-found treasure,

Once somebody else’s trash.

Assembly

When I was young, each Friday

Was Assembly day at school.

We wore white shirts and navy skirts;

Red ties made us look cool.

We pledged allegiance, sang the song 

And did as we were told.

Who knew “assembly” would be

Something bad when I got old?

I ordered a TV stand;

For “Assembly?” I checked no,

Believing we could do it, but

Once here, we both said, “Whoa!”

I contacted the company

And yes, it’s not too late.

I’ll hear from the assembly team

To thus arrange a date.

They charged my card but now I wait;

There seems to be a glitch.

The wooden parts, unpacked, are stacked;

The sight just makes me twitch.

Assembly once had rules I knew

And followed to a T.

Today no special outfit 

Would give any help to me.

Making Mistakes

I try my best but oftentimes

Whatever I decide

Is flat-out wrong, a blunder that

I just can’t take in stride.

The plans I make, the things I buy,

The times I’m in or out,

No longer bring me joy, but rather 

Fill my mind with doubt.

Compared to other problems,

This might lack some magnitude, 

But to me it seems enormous

And it’s messing with my mood.

The Bear Minimum

Early morning in the country,

Walking solo on the road,

I was texting with my husband 

In his slow strained-muscle mode

When I heard the bushes rustling

So I glanced off to the right

And the head of a black bear popped up,

An unexpected sight.

It was only for a moment

But our gazes did connect;

Then that bear turned ‘round and vanished,

Which is not what I’d expect.

Bear! I texted, but my husband

Thought I’d simply made a joke,

So I called him and he heard the truth

The minute that I spoke.

I had 2 more miles of walking,

Which I did, but I kept track,

Peering in the woods intently,

Just in case that bear came back.

Diamond Anniversary

Today’s the anniversary

Of when my parents wed,

Which they would likely celebrate

If they were not both dead.

It was 1947

When they tied the marriage knot,

Never knowing then that 33

Were all the years they’d got.

So they never hit the big one,

Toasting number 7-5.

I will raise a glass to honor them,

Their spirits still alive.

Personalities

We’re born with personalities

Our parents help to shape,

But once the mold is set in place,

There isn’t an escape.

So if you’re anxious, shy or quiet,

Maybe insecure,

The odds of turning that around

Are fair to even poor.

Those confident, outgoing types 

Appear to be in luck,

For in those roles, as they grow up,

They’re fortunately stuck.

Of course, some change is possible,

Or so said Dr. Freud.

If not, then psychotherapists

Would all be unemployed.

Identifying Bodies

Identifying bodies

On a show like C.S.I.,

On scars and beauty marks

Or dental fillings did rely.

 

Our bodies, every one unique,

Have freckles, dots and lines,

Arranged haphazardly in ways

That DNA designs.

 

Though nowadays the morgue has

More at hand from which to choose,

For it must be much easier

To track down one’s tattoos.

Tush

Heading to the river, there’s

A field of planted grass,

The perfect place to sunbathe

Or to show the world your ass.

 

For stretched out on a blanket,

With her thong exposed to air,

Was a woman who was proud to flash

Her skinny derriere.

 

Most passersby did notice,

Slowing down to tut-tut-tut,

Yet the woman seemed oblivious

To eyes upon her butt.

 

I am certain there are places

Where no one would be opposed

To the sight of someone’s tush

Quite so unclassily exposed.

Rerouting

Drove lots of miles

To connect with old friends.

Whenever we see them,

The fun never ends.

 

So when we said goodbye,

We felt sad ‘cause we knew

We’d not meet again soon

And what also was true…

 

Was the trip home would be

Filled with traffic so slow

There’d be much too much stop

Interspersed with the go.

 

The GPS took us

Through neighborhoods where

We’d not traveled before

But to help us prepare

 

We would get an alert –

We’re rerouting your trip.

This will save you 6 minutes,

A technical blip.

 

For no matter which way

We would turn, we’d be stuck.

To travel today, you are

Just out of luck.

Other People’s Pictures

Friends are on vacation;

They’re sending lots of pics.

So nice of them to share their trip -

Just takes a few quick clicks.

We’re staying g close to home, though;

No travel plans for now -

Perhaps a drive to visit pals

If schedules allow.

In prior years we traveled 

In the states or overseas,

So other people’s pictures

Do not readily appease.

Old Style Shopping

In days gone by, your needs were met

By going to the store.

You looked and touched and sampled

What was out there on the floor.

 

A couch, a dress, a pair of shoes,

Some dishes, a TV –

Whatever you were searching for

Was there for you to see.

 

But now your quest is on a screen

And so you scroll and stare,

Then check a bunch of other sites

So that you can compare.

 

You won’t know if it’s comfortable -

The fit might be in doubt –

Until the truck delivers it

And you can check it out.

 

Of course, you can return it.

Still, I miss those times before,

When we shopped for things in person,

Which we don’t do anymore.

A Man and His Basketball

A man and his basketball

Came to the gate.

Alas, it was locked,

Those in charge running late.

 

Beyond were the hoops

Just awaiting some play.

The man looked around

And did things his own way.

 

First tossing the ball

Gently over the fence,

He then started climbing,

Which made total sense.

 

The top was equipped

With sharp iron-clad spikes,

The kind that to bump

Would elicit a “Yikes!”

 

I watched as that fence

He did manage to scale,

Then he jumped to the ground;

Lack of fear did prevail.

 

I applauded his feat

And I went on my way,

Just another cool sighting

To start out my day.

Walking in the City

Walking in the city,

Every day brings a surprise.

You never know, when setting out,

What sights will greet your eyes.

 

Today a guy zipped by me

On a unicycle, yet

It seemed to be electric,

Just as cool as it could get.

 

Another morning, just past dawn,

I hadn’t gone too far,

Before I heard the chords

Of someone strumming a guitar.

 

I’d seen him there before,

A spot where Peter Pan* holds court,

A peaceful place to practice,

No one catching him fall short.

 

My country walks are lovely;

I might see a fox or deer

But they can’t match the encounters,

Most surprising, I have here.

 

*a statue in Carl Schurz Park, Manhattan

Fickle

Nature is fickle 

And sometimes she’s cruel.

It’s foolish to trust her

And end up the fool.

For sometimes appearance

Is meant to deceive,

Upsetting assumptions

You’ve come to believe.

When least you expect it,

Some danger may show,

Despite all the knowledge

You think that you know.

The Pigeon Swooped

The pigeon swooped in for a landing

And settled itself on the rail,

Surveying the chop of the river,

So cocky it must have been male.

 

Though varied in grays on its body,

Its neck shone with purple and green,

A common enough iridescence,

Like many a pigeon I’ve seen.

 

It didn’t stay long in the sunshine

And soon, with a flap of its wings,

It soared on the breeze heading skyward,

In search of more pigeon-type things.

My Vespa Shirt

My t-shirt was bought on vacation.

It pictures a Vespa in front.

On seeing it, I felt elation,

Completing my souvenir hunt.

 

A kiosk outdoors was displaying,

With other reminders of Rome,

The shirts for which tourists were paying

In Euros to pack and take home.

 

I wear it and I can envision

Those tees flapping out in the breeze.

I bought it with no indecision,

Just know-what-I-like expertise.

 

An object can oftentimes trigger

A memory flash in the mind,

Investing it with enough vigor

That moments don’t get left behind.

Pleading the Fifth

Pleading the Fifth is for “mobsters;”

To many it’s proof of their guilt,

Including a certain ex-leader,

Whose previous claims went atilt.

For once he was called to the hot seat,

The Fifth was his very best friend.

Aside from his name he said nothing,

Defiant right up to the end.

Of course, he gave all the impression

He had quite a lot he should hide,

But if he had actually answered,

We all can be sure he’d have lied.

Crossing a River

Sometimes with interstate travel,

Your driving plans might just unravel,

For crossing a river

WAZE* might just deliver

The worst way to kick up some gravel.

 

If you are like me, then your preference

Is taking a bridge, though in deference

To GPS choice

You may stifle your voice

And accept what they know as a reference.

 

So from Jersey to get to the city

A bridge wasn’t mentioned – a pity!

We joined in the funnel

Of cars to the tunnel

Which most of the time isn’t pretty.

 

Today wasn’t nearly as busy

So I wasn’t nervous or dizzy;

For tunnels don’t thrill me

And often they fill me

With nerves, leaving me in a tizzy.

 

*a GPS system

Hitching a Ride

A tiny caterpillar clung

To the mirror on our car,

Perhaps to hitch a ride, not knowing

We were going far.

 

I didn’t notice he was there

‘Til we were on the road

And wondered if he’d make it

All the way to our abode.

 

I thought he’d hate the city,

Though, of course, there is some grass.

My worrying was wasted

For it never came to pass.

 

A half an hour later,

All the wind became too much.

Despite a valiant effort,

All his little feet lost touch.

 

I watched him blow away

Into a highway of cement,

His final day on earth, at least

That much was evident.

A Summer Storm

The sky had faked us out before,

Grown dark with hints of thunder,

But then the sun resumed control

And left us all to wonder…

Well, will it rain or not today?

The heat needs some relieving.

Yet once the clouds turned white again,

We gave up on believing.

Then all at once, the daylight dimmed

And thunder rumbled, booming.

The stormy weather we’d expected 

Suddenly was looming.

The rain, at last, came crashing down -

Relentless, teeming, pounding.

Protected by my screened-in porch,

I felt its force resounding.

Ten minutes passed and with a snap,

The afternoon just brightened.

The show was over, leaving me

With all my senses heightened.

Toad You So

Last night we saw a frog just sitting

Right there in the road.

At least we thought it was a frog;

It might have been a toad.

No matter which, it didn’t move,

Not even when we stopped,

The flashlight shining on its face;

I thought it would have hopped.

This morning, though, while walking,

We saw several frogs, all squished,

Or maybe they were toads and died

Because they were farmisht! *

*Yiddish for mixed-up, confused or crazy 

To Nip a Drip

Ice cream cones are meant to drip

But once you’ve got the knack,

You catch those drops on tongue or lip

To help preserve your snack.

At times the bottom of the cone 

Might form a little hole,

Allowing an escape, unknown

When ice cream’s in a bowl.

So someone came up with a plan -

A paper cone-shaped coat

To overlay the cone, but man,

They’d never get my vote!

The paper’s somehow always stuck;

It’s hard to peel away.

Thus, oftentimes, I’m out of luck

And there’s a price to pay.

I either toss the cone before

I’ve finished or I might

Ingest some shreds of paper, more

Than I want in a bite!

Summer Daze

Summer once meant days outdoors

To soak up all the sun.

At beaches, parks or mountain towns

We frolicked and had fun.

 

We cooled off in a lake or pool

If there was one close by,

While treats from the Good Humor man

Made time just seem to fly.

 

But global warming’s turned the heat

To temps that have us fried,

So many summer days are spent

With cool A/C inside.

Birthday Presents

Birthday presents for the grands 

Are challenging to find,

Unless you locate something

After which they’ve always pined.

If not, you search online until

Your eye is caught by what

Might be, if you are lucky,

Just the thing that hits the spot.

For my grandchild’s seventh birthday,

What I found for her, in pink,

Was a set of walkie-talkies;

They were ordered in a blink.

Her birthday is tomorrow

But we tried them out today.

They checked off all the boxes

As we put them into play.

Check! For something new and fun.

Check! A breeze to use.

Check! They’re pink and have a light 

So they’ll be hard to lose.

It’s very gratifying

When excitement you have earned,

Unlike my husband’s birthday gift,

Which has to be returned.

To Err is Amazonian

It’s natural that Amazon

Will get some orders wrong.

If you’ve not had this happen,

Well, it won’t be very long.

 

A shirt in Large I’d ordered

Came in Medium instead

And a towel’s plastic wrapping ripped,

Thus causing it to shred.

 

With millions ordering online,

Mistakes, of course, occur.

Returns are easy so from shopping

Most will not deter.

 

Still, it is disappointing

When you look and ascertain

That the contents of your package

Will compel you to complain.

Thank You, Kansas

I have never been to Kansas

But I’m grateful to the state 

For allowing all its women

To take charge of their own fate.

Hopefully, across the country,

Other votes will follow suit.

Every female, on this issue,

Should be firm and resolute.

Health care issues should be handled

Without government control.

Forcing births that are unwanted’s

Guaranteed to take a toll.

So to all of those in Kansas 

Who fought hard protecting rights,

Thanks for your determination,

Which we’ll match for future fights.

Tired When Retired

If you’re tired when retired

You have just yourself to blame,

For the stresses of employment 

You no longer get to claim.

How you manage all your hours 

Is within your own control,

Whether sloth or not-a-minute-

To-yourself’s become your goal.

In your former life, exhaustion

Was a reason they’d accept

If you bailed on friends or family 

And instead, stayed home and slept.

But without those work excuses,

Face the facts, though it seems cold -

If you’re tired when retired,

It just means you’re getting old!

The Fox

Early morning, heading out

To walk, as is our habit,

A flurry from the bushes made us jump;

‘Twas not a rabbit.

Instead, a just-awakened fox 

Looked at us both, surmising 

That no harm was intended,

Though our meeting was surprising.

It darted off into the brush

Like lightning, maybe faster

And all of us were thinking

We’d avoided a disaster.

We don’t see foxes often

So to be so close was thrilling,

An inter-species contact

With acknowledgement, not killing.