In Paris Parks 1954

Today, for thirteen minutes,

It was 1954

And I found myself in Paris,

Mesmerized and wanting more.

 

Watching people, mostly children,

Interacting in a park

Was a pleasure to observe,

Thanks to a film by Shirley Clarke.

 

From the clothing (nothing denim!)

To the rides and carousel,

Life was captured in such detail,

By the faces you could tell

 

That the park was someplace special

Since an ordinary day

Brought so much to each expression

That each person did display.

 

A puppet show, my favorite part,

Caught joy and fear and glee,

The reactions of the children

Such a privilege to see.

 

I could have been among them

Had I been a child in France,

But today I was transported;

MOMA* let me have my chance.

 

*Museum of Modern Art, New York City

Peripheral

I feel like I’m peripheral

In everybody’s life

Except, of course, my husband’s,

With my closeness as his wife.

 

I suppose that’s how it should be

Once the kids have up and flown

From the nest that you created,

With your grandkids almost grown.

 

Siblings also have their families,

As do all my dearest friends.

Where I once felt integral to some,

My mind now comprehends

 

That I’m stuck here on the outside

And my entry’s been denied.

Still, for now, I’m front and center

When my husband’s by my side.

Memorizing a Poem

In school, we sometimes were assigned

To memorize some verse

And so, at home, in front of parents,

We would, thus, rehearse.

 

We then presented what we’d learned

In class or on a stage,

Without the benefit of notes

Or glancing at a page.

 

Amazingly, when thinking back

On rhymes that we had nailed,

We find them still intact; our teacher’s

Mandate has prevailed.

 

Though teaching’s changed in many ways,

For better or for worse,

It’s satisfying somehow

To recite a once-learned verse.

To Sit in a Recliner (to the tune of "Carolina in the Morning" as sung by Al Jolson)

Nothing can be finer

Than to sit in a recliner

When you’re reading.

Though this may be minor,

Not each furniture designer

Thinks you’re needing

 

Comfort for your tootsies

When you stretch your feet.

Horizontal footsies

Make relaxing complete.

 

Ottomans will let ‘ya

Put your feet up, too, I betcha,

When you’re streaming.

Don’t let nothing sweat ‘ya,

For an ottoman will get ‘ya

Close to beaming.

 

You don’t need an empire,

Just a living room space

To get unwound within your own place.

Nothing’s really finer

Than a foot rest or recliner

To start dreaming.

Pillow Picks

People have their preferences

For pillows, so much so

That many take their own along

When traveling they go.

 

Synthetic ones are all the rage

Or those with memory foam,

But I will always sleep with

Down-filled pillows in my home.

 

Ads proclaim it matters if

You sleep upon your side

Or on your back to help you,

When you’re shopping, to decide.

 

Hotel rooms often have a choice

Of pillows on the bed,

So you can pick from soft or firm

On which to lay your head.

 

No matter which type you prefer,

The costly or the cheap,

The pillow that you love won’t

Guarantee a good night’s sleep.

Inconvenienced When

Living near the mayor, 

I am inconvenienced when

A head of state comes through the gate, 

Which happens now and then.

The secret service and the cops

Block off surrounding streets

And if you try to get on by,

You’ll suffer some defeats.

But it’s much worse for those who live

Or work near the U.N.,

For they are barred, which makes it hard,

From getting home again.

Between the protests and the police,

They’re sadly out of luck.

Like all the crews who film the news,

They’re flat-out simply stuck.

We city people know the drill,

But still keep seeing red.

We disapprove, but would we move?

We’ll suffer here instead.

The Cement

There’s usually, in every group,

And often evident,

One person who is not in charge,

But rather the cement.

 

The one who makes things happen

And who brings all factions in,

Assuring that each person’s there

And ready to begin.

 

The one the others turn to

When a problem might arise.

Who knows when someone’s out of line

And cuts her down to size.

 

It isn’t necessarily

The one with all the brains,

But someone with the people skills

To soothe disparate strains.

 

Without this member, groups would fade

In throes of discontent,

For gatherings won’t hold together

If there’s no cement.