The Supermarket Singer

We’re away from our home for a wedding 

So we drove to explore a new town.

Found a cool-looking shop

And decided to stop

But, while strolling the aisles up and down…

We heard music and noticed a singer 

Belting tunes with a mic in his hand.

Shoppers didn’t take heed

But we loved it, for we’d

Only known songs in stores that were canned.

We stood rapt ‘til he wrapped his performance 

And we thanked him for making our day.

Guess you just never know

When some talent will show

To bring smiles in a never-seen way.

Raining

It’s raining, it’s pouring;

The streets are a mess.

For anyone out there,

There’s bound to be stress.

The highways are flooded;

The subways are closed,

As “When will it stop?”

Is the question that’s posed.

With puddles ginormous,

The outlook is dark

And what’s brought to mind 

Is that biblical ark.

Some plans may be altered,

But that will depend

On when Nature decides

All this rain has to end.

Missing

It’s strange to miss a person

Whom you do not really know

But it happens and that absence

Is enough to strike a blow.

 

Fellow walkers in the morning

Who would nod or say hello,

Even some where names were traded

Now are gone – where did they go?

 

Poet buddies who would comment

On my poems would come to grow

Into mutual supporters

On the Soup* site’s ebb and flow.

 

One-time colleagues from my work life

(I retired years ago)

Were acquaintances with whom I shared

The teaching status quo.

 

All have disappeared completely,

Like a canceled TV show

And, despite the fact we weren’t close,

I miss them, even though.

 

*Poetry Soup, a site for sharing poetry

Buster Brown

My brother and I sang the Buster Brown song

When we FaceTimed today; we both knew

Every word about Buster and Tige,* who belong,

As the jingle explains, in a shoe.

 

Certain memories stick and remain in my head

From my childhood, a lifetime ago,

And though I can’t remember a book I just read,

This old tune, from the 50’s, I know.

 

It’s amazing to me how the brain seems to file

Certain info that I can retrieve,

But it runs out of room and so, after a while,

Newer facts pay a visit, then leave.

 

 

*Buster Brown was a children’s shoe company.

Buster was a little boy and Tige was his dog.

A picture of them both was inside the shoe.

Through the Windows

From in our homes, we view the world 

Through windows which reveal

The goings-on around us, which

Affects the way we feel.

The wealthy, in their mansions,

May see mountains or the sea,

Which so many of us think is where

We’d also like to be.

While lots of folk may gaze outside

At scenes of homes and trees,

The sight of which brings comfort,

Worthy of their landscape fees.

The urban dwellers’ windows, 

Sometimes from a dazzling height,

Show the bustle of the city,

Which may offer much delight.

For the poorer ones among us,

If they have a view at all,

It may reinforce their sadness,

Staring at a shaft or wall.

Still, by gazing out the windows 

That our home accommodates,

We can dream about what’s out there

And what future life awaits.

Guidelines

Sometimes beliefs that we held in our youth

Lose the certainty we once regarded as truth,

Then we have to decide what to keep, what to shed,

What still fits us or what is beginning to shred.

Simply clinging to all that we learned in the past,

Even though, at the time, we believed it would last,

Doesn’t factor in various ways we have changed

And the lessons from which we have gotten estranged.

Therefore, no one should judge if we pray or we don’t;

Some traditions we’ll honor but others we won’t.

All that matters is that we’ve no reason to hide

If we follow the guidelines we harbor inside.

How We Age

We never know when we are young

Exactly how we’ll age.

So many unknown factors

All pitch in to set the stage.

 

Of course, we have our DNA,

A part of us since birth,

And then the way we live our lives

For all our years on earth.

 

The food we eat, the jobs we have,

Our exercise (or lack),

The stress we face and problems which

May veer us off the track.

 

The health-related issues

And the treatments they entail

May be tough enough that skin will sag

And wrinkles will prevail.

 

When school reunions happen

And we see each older face,

We might see pain and suffering

That make-up can’t erase.

 

Yet seeing others with their years

Of troubles on display

May fool us into being glad

That we don’t look that way.

In Olden Days

In olden days, without TV

Or phone or laptop or PC,

I might have joined a quilting bee

To while away the time.

 

I’d sit with friends and we would sew,

Discussing all there was to know

And all our handiwork would show

We had no need for Prime.

 

And after we would laugh and chat,

The pure delight of chewing fat,

We’d stash our projects, knowing that

Our day had been sublime.

 

But even then, I’m pretty sure

As soon as I got home once more,

I’d sit and do what I adore,

Set down my daily rhyme.

Reasonable Enough

On a workbook page

In my grandson’s book,

Which was lying out,

So I took a look,

Was an answer which

Brought a smile to me.

I will tell you now; 

See if you agree.

“Just one explanation’s

Correct, so choose

And tell why this is

The best one to use.”

Henry’s answer was,

With no fancy fluff,

“Answer B, which sounds

Reasonable enough.”

Such a clever boy,

Cutting to the chase,

With a few short words

To present his case.

A Toddler

A toddler in a stroller passed

And, looking at her face,

It seemed to me that she was

Merely staring into space.

 

Which made me wonder – could it be

She’d nothing on her mind?

If not, and I could read her thoughts,

What musings would I find?

 

I wish I had a lollipop.

I need some better toys.

My pre-school class has way too many

Mean and nasty boys.

 

My lunch today was yucky.

Why does Mommy have to work?

And why did Daddy come home mad

And call his boss a jerk?

 

I know, I might be way off base.

Perhaps within that stare

Were thoughts of all the happy things

She couldn’t wait to share.

Reaction

The Covid shot makes some folks sick

And I am in that group,

With lots of sleeping, as my mind

And body start to droop.

 

I don’t react to flu vaccines

Or others that I take,

But something in Moderna’s shot

Won’t let me stay awake.

 

And so today, stretched on the couch,

The price I had to pay

Was feeling sick to keep the Covid

Virus far away.

Shutting Down the River

“They just shut down the river;

No boats at all allowed,”

The captain of the ferry told

A small but waiting crowd.

The General Assembly,

A huge U.N. event,

Is hosting leaders, which includes

The U.S. President.

Security’s been tightened;

The ferry now is stuck

And as for seeing river traffic, 

Guess I’m out of luck.

On a Rainy Day

On a rainy day with nothing planned

And hours to fill at your command,

It’s hard for some to understand,

But it’s a trifle boring.

 

You do some crosswords, read a book,

Open closets, take a look,

Realize in the time it took,

That mess you’ll be ignoring.

 

It’s early, still, to watch TV;

You have a snack or two or three

And text a friend, but even she

Is busy with her choring.

 

And so, at last, since you are home,

Too lazy to head out to roam,

You find the topic for your poem,

The things to do indooring.

Two Boats

A yacht named Archimedes passed

Behind the local ferry,

Both likely headed to complete

Today’s itinerary.

I know just where the ferry goes

And what it’s like to ride it.

As for the yacht, I’d love to see

Exactly what’s inside it.

My chance of doing that is nil,

But not so with the ferry. 

How different would those two rides be?

You know the answer - very!

When I Became a Nana

When I became a nana,

On this date, ten years ago,

There were so many things I didn’t

Know I didn’t know.

 

Like how I’d feel to hold my grandson,

Singing him to sleep,

Or how my love for him would bloom

And settle in, down deep.

 

The months and years I’ve watched him grow

Have flown by in a snap,

From when I read him “Goodnight Moon”

While nestled in my lap…

 

Until today, when we discuss

The world and its events.

I marvel at his knowledge

But a part of me laments

 

That times I rocked him in my arms

Were part of bygone days,

Yet I’ll remember always

All the trust held in his gaze.

A Holiday Dinner

For a holiday dinner, tradition’s in charge

Of the menu, the guests and the place,

With old favorites appearing as well as a few

New additions the crowd might embrace.

Once the table is set and the platters are placed,

Seats are taken and eating may start.

Conversation begins interspersed with the bites,

Everybody with news to impart.

Recognition of recipes lights up some eyes,

A connection to meals long ago.

When the family gathers at holiday time,

We know pretty much how things will go.

Warm-Up

Construction has been going on

Right by my river walk,

Where workers dig and man machines

As seagulls swoop and squawk.

This morning, though, I came upon

An unexpected sight,

Unusual enough to fill me

With a strange delight.

 

For, clad in hard hats and in vests

Of safety neon-green,

Construction workers exercised,

A gym-class-like routine.

 

There must have been two dozen men,

The foreman in the lead,

All striking poses, looking

Pretty good, I must concede.

 

I watched them for a minute,

Then they broke to start their day,

Their early morning workout

Like a macho man ballet. 

My Shopping List

For Terry Flood,* since you insist,

Here, in rhyme’s my shopping list:

 

Orange juice and Starbuck’s (iced,

Even though it’s overpriced),

 

Bagels, Swiss and muenster cheese,

Whitefish salad, frozen peas,

 

Broccoli and salad greens,

Carrots, berries, nectarines,

 

Melons, muffins, chocolate treats,

Licorice or gummy sweets,

 

Ice cream, cookies, corn chips, bread,

Hummus, pesto, peppers (red),

 

Eggs and butter, IPA’s,

Pasta meant for many days,

 

Chicken, mushrooms, sometimes meat –

Think that makes my list complete.

 

(For omissions, I’m to blame

Since rhyme, not shopping, was my aim!)

 

*a fellow poet on Poetry Soup

Senior

When I was a senior in high school,

The students below us all knew

That we were in charge and a challenge to that

Was, naturally, taboo.

 

It felt great to have climbed up that mountain

And our status was envied, although

At the end of the year we were freshmen again,

With four years of schooling to go.

 

When I was a senior in college,

The world that awaited was vast,

With travel and dating and jobs and the freedom

To follow our passions at last.

 

It was scary but also exciting

To dive into that tempting unknown,

Where exploring the places that beckoned

Helped us see all the ways we had grown.

 

Now I am a senior in living,

Whose age has me labeled and seen

Not as wise, but as past my importance;

All you “elderly” know what I mean.

Nun of That, Now!

Turning right against the light’s

Illegal in New Yawk.

That rule’s observed by drivers,

Not by those who run or walk.

 

In other places, no such law

Exists, so often plates

Of cars which turn when they should not

Reflect their different states.

 

And that is why I was surprised

When, right in front of me,

A New York car ignored the red

And turned illegally.

 

What made it even weirder

Was the driver was a nun!

If ticketed, I wonder ‘bout

The story she’d have spun.

Off On Spectrum*

My cable station’s battling

With Disney; what this means

Is that the U.S. Open’s blocked

From many TV screens.

 

Since tennis on TV is shown

On ESPN, owned

By Disney, all subscribers

Have their tennis joy postponed.

 

It isn’t fair when, due to greed,

The corporations fight,

Depriving viewers of a sport

That fills them with delight.

 

I’ll read about the matches

And the highlights of each game,

But sadly, as all sports fans know,

It won’t be quite the same.

 

*Spectrum is my cable company

The Outdoor Art Fair

The outdoor art fair’s housed in tents

Where photographs and oils

And watercolors wait for sales

So artists earn their spoils.

 

At first, the sun was out though the

Humidity was high,

As would-be customers and neighbors

Leisurely strolled by.

 

Admiring the art, we also

Found some artists who

Enjoyed discussing how they started

Doing what they do.

 

We didn’t make a purchase but

The art work did impress,

Yet later on the sky turned dark

And if I had to guess…

 

Those artists had to scramble,

Taking down each cool display,

‘Cause it seems like there’s a thunderstorm

That’s headed this-a-way.

In Your Gut

What you feel in your gut

Can’t be called right or wrong

For your gut’s where the strongest 

Emotions belong.

Both your brain and your heart

Filter feelings you hold,

Which may soften or change

Based on things you’ve been told.

But your gut takes the kick 

And the way you react

May determine if you

Can survive it intact.

With a poke from your brain

And a nudge from your heart,

You can temper the kick

Without falling apart.

Cruise Brochures

Viking sends me sleek brochures

For every kind of cruise.

I guess they figure that they really

Don’t have much to lose.

 

There certainly must be a lot

Of people who will look

And then be wowed enough to find

A trip they want to book.

 

We’ve traveled with them several times

Before pandemic days

And for the tours that they provide,

I have the highest praise.

 

My interest in that type of trip

Has waned, yet in the mail,

The catalogues keep coming;

All that effort’s bound to fail.

 

Perhaps to companies that big,

To go to that expense

Is worth it if such nudges

Push some people off the fence.

There's No Place Like...

Though every place has cons and pros,

The one you live in, I suppose,

Is where you feel the most secure,

The moment you walk through the door.

 

It may not be quite neat and clean

Compared to other homes you’ve seen,

But still, it’s where you hang your keys

And do exactly as you please.

 

It’s comfortable in ways that count

And what, to me, is paramount,

Is that, with its familiar charms,

It waits for you with open arms.

If I Were Still Teaching

If I were still teaching,

Today, I assume,

I’d be hanging up posters 

To brighten the room.

I would greet all my colleagues

At meetings, where, bored,

I’d bemoan the time wasted

I couldn’t afford.

Then I’d gather the info

I’d need for each class,

Rounding up the supplies 

I had ordered, en masse.

I’d prepare my first lessons,

Make sure I had chalk

And get ready to give

That old welcoming talk.

Now I’m no longer teaching;

Instead, I’m away 

Where I sit and gaze out 

At a beautiful bay.

Private Property

 In Florida, we take a walk

Adjacent to the bay,

With stunning views and gorgeous homes 

We pass along the way.

Each house has land across the path

With water access, plus

A swath of lawn with chairs or swings

Which aren’t meant for us.

For signs say “Private Property,”

In other words, keep out!

Some also read “No Trespassing”

In case we were in doubt.

At least we get to see the bay

And all that goes with it,

The balcony in our hotel

A lovely place to sit.

Smoothly

Sometimes things go smoothly 

But your nervousness won’t stop,

‘Cause you wonder if (or likely when)

The other shoe will drop.

Still, it’s worth enjoying

Times when plans work out just right.

Try releasing all the tension;

Thank your lucky stars at night.

There’ll be many times a’coming

When this fortune won’t repeat,

So relax and spread some smiles,

For such days are rare and sweet.

Making Decisions

I hate to make decisions;

When I face one, I am fraught

And sleeping on it doesn’t help,

Despite what we’ve been taught.

 

I weigh the pros and cons and yet

It’s still so hard to choose,

Especially when stakes are high

And there’s a lot to lose.

 

I’ll listen to suggestions,

But what others cannot see

Is that what might be the best for them

May not work out for me.

 

So I get twisted in a knot,

Not sure which way to go

And wish that I could just decide

With eeny-meeny-mo.

September 1st

September? No, how can that be?

The summer’s flown too fast for me.

I flip the calendar to stare

At each blank box that’s waiting there.

 

The grandkids’ school will start next week

As foliage prepares to peak.

My quilting class will soon resume;

I’ll see familiar smiles on Zoom.

 

The holidays I celebrate

Are not far off; before that date

I’ll find the recipes I’ll make

Which, once a year, I cook or bake.

 

My grandson’s birthday’s here again

In two weeks – yikes! He will be 10!

The future beckons, unrehearsed,

From where we stand, September 1^st.