Point of View

Our vision of the world is skewed
By our own circumstances;
Often that determines whether
We’ll take risky chances.

It’s easy to invest if you have
Money you can lose,
Yet caution might well be your guide
If you can’t pay your dues.

When you’re healthy, you can’t quite
Imagine being sick,
And when you’re wealthy you can’t know
What makes poor people tick.

Those without addictions
Cannot comprehend that need,
And those who follow never know
How it can feel to lead.

If everyone would take the time
To wear another’s shoes,
We might discover compromise
Instead of win or lose.

Fear

“The only thing to fear is fear itself,”
We’ve all heard said;
But most of us give in
To things that frighten us, instead.

So someone scared of snakes
Keeps out of woods, where they abound;
And one who fears the ocean
Stays on shore and won’t be drowned.

People who are frightened in the dark
Keep on the lights;
And some will never mountain climb
If they’re afraid of heights.

There are those whom cats or dogs
Will make extremely fearful,
And others seeing bugs and spiders
Rapidly grow tearful.

Thunder is enough to scare
Both children and adults.
Lightning, too, to many people
Has the same results.

Sometimes, though, we can’t avoid
The object of our fear;
At times like those we have to hope
Some courage will appear.

We close our eyes or count to ten
Or take a deep deep breath,
And concentrate on other things
Than our impending death.

And when the moment passes
And we sigh in great relief,
We understand our safety
Did not come from our belief.

The fear remains embedded deep
In our mind’s reservoir;
Not many of us can attain
The pluck of F.D.R.

Fallen

A man walked through the park today;
A tree fell on his head.
One minute strolling home from work,
The next one you are dead.

Seemed like a good idea to him,
A saunter through the park.
One minute snow cascading down,
The next one all is dark.

You never really can predict
When it will be the end,
‘Cause danger lurks and may await
You as you turn the bend.

You can’t prepare so better if
You put it out of mind,
And realize that your swift demise
Might be what fate’s designed.

Plans

Plans are made with good intentions;
Still, they’re sometimes broken.
Often nature’s interventions
Make the bad news spoken.

Other times someone gets sick
And plans must be postponed.
Some excuses sound too slick
And should not be condoned.

But most times when the plans must change
We feel more disappointed;
Our mindset we must rearrange
Which leaves us so disjointed.

‘Cause plans are links to others;
Though they’re tenuous connections,
The possibility is there
For mutual affections.

And if arrangements are with those
Whom we already cherish,
The reason’s more why we’d oppose
A meeting planned to perish.

But oftentimes we have no choice;
It isn’t our decision,
And we must find the strength to voice
An alternate provision.

If so, we hope all will agree
And set another date;
And though there’ll be no guarantee,
We’ll finger-cross and wait.

The Blanket

I watched a mother with her child,
A toddler, two or three,
As she attempted to tuck in
A blanket ‘neath his knee.

He didn’t want that blanket there;
He struggled and was kicking,
While she cajoled, the honey in her voice
Not really sticking.

It wasn’t all that cold outside;
His jacket was quite bulky.
So I could understand exactly
What made him so sulky.

But she, determined to succeed,
Her mindset quite unmoving,
Continued tucking all around,
The boy’s mood not improving.

Her tone of voice got nasty then,
And she was quite insistent:
“You need to have this blanket on!”
Which made him more resistant.

It made me wonder, what’s the age
For children to decide
If they are hot or cold enough,
Especially outside.

I’d hate for someone else to judge
And force me into layers,
More so when it’s loved ones who
Turn into your betrayers.

I rooted for the kid, but knew
The battle had been lost.
The mother won, but made me think
It wasn’t worth the cost.

The Key

I write as if someone is reading,
Though mostly I know it’s not true;
But I’m not giving up or conceding –
Lack of confidence is so taboo.

I speak as if someone is hearing
The opinions that I have expelled,
The listener often appearing
To concur with the views I have held.

I dress as if someone is looking;
My clothes are unwrinkled and match.
No matter if nothing is cooking;
Appearance lets others attach.

I dream as if someone is waiting
To grant my desires and hopes,
But I know that I am creating
A path down some slippery slopes.

‘Cause everything that I am doing
Is done ultimately for myself;
And there’s no room for boasting or ruing –
Those emotions belong on the shelf.

For we do what we do to please no man
And we shouldn’t let anyone judge;
That way no one’s the high or the low man,
And we don’t get caught up in the sludge.

So I’m writing and speaking and dressing
And dreaming for no one but me,
And everything that I’m expressing
Is the lock for which I have the key.

Listen to Your Body

Listen to your body.
Treat it with respect.
If something’s feeling different,
Go out and get it checked.

Become like a mechanic
And fine-tune that machine.
Don’t ignore the signals
Saying back off your routine.

It isn’t always prudent
To rise above your pain.
Heed your muscles’ message;
There’s more to lose than gain.

A day of rest won’t kill you.
They’ll miss you at the gym;
But one day lost is preferable
To, “Hey – remember him?”

Give in and take it easy;
Your body knows what’s right.
Let go, resign, surrender, ‘cause
It isn’t worth the fight.

Hopefully, you’ll be okay;
If not, you’ll have to deal.
Pretending there is nothing wrong
Won’t make it be less real.

So take your body’s tidings;
Succumb to its advice.
The chance to do so may not be
Presented to you twice.

Hibernation

In winter, it’s fine if you hibernate;
In fact, pretty much, it’s expected.
You can stay in all day and you’ll feel quite all right;
You are cozy and nicely protected.

Animals do it instinctively;
They do not need any instruction.
But for humans, the playing field’s not the same,
So we fight our home’s tempting seduction.

When it’s freezing or snowing it seems okay
To cocoon yourself in your own space;
But as soon as the sun shines and it warms up,
Staying home is a total disgrace.

Though your windows are coated with dirt and grime,
The sun’s rays peek inside and they beckon;
The date’s no excuse – you must rouse yourself
And venture outdoors, if you reckon.

As springtime draws near this occurs more and more,
And staying inside’s not accepted;
You can’t justify lounging home all the day –
Your excuses will be intercepted.

So you sigh and you dress and admit your defeat.
Like the bears, you crawl out from your den;
And, once more, join the world ‘til the seasons change
And you can hibernate once again.

Needing a Haircut

I really need a haircut;
I hate the way I look.
If I were on a stage,
They would remove me with a hook.

I hate to get my hair cut,
Hate sitting in that chair;
Hate looking in that mirror –
God, aging’s so unfair!

I had such thick dark tresses,
Though they were quite unruly;
I cursed those frizzy tangles,
But now I miss them, truly.

I’m left with just a remnant
Of that huge mass of frizz,
And sometimes in the mirror
I don’t know who that is.

But often, just a trimming
Can elevate my mood,
And rearrange emotions
That start to come unglued.

Some color and some make-up
Can help me reconcile
My inside and my outside
And then I’ll add a smile.

Some earrings and a necklace,
An outfit that might flatter,
And I can face the world and think,
Why, nothing is the matter!

But first, I need that haircut.
My thoughts are bound to flip;
‘Cause things will start improving
When I hear that first quick snip.

Scentsability

My husband likes the smell of gasoline;
I don’t agree.
And when he polishes his shoes,
I have to up and flee.

He likes that odor, too, but it’s
A scent that I despise.
We all have smells we love and hate
But why just mystifies.

I cannot wear cologne and find
Most perfumes rather cloying;
That smell in close proximity
Is really quite annoying.

I do not mind the smell of paint,
Though many cannot take it;
And often, if a person stinks
You have to smile and fake it.

I love the smell of coffee
Yet when pregnant, it repulsed me.
A seatmate in a theater, camphor-clad
Nearly convulsed me.

I do not like deodorant
That’s scented – you can tell.
I much prefer it, though, to none,
Which really can repel.

I adore the smell of burning leaves,
The salt tang of the sea;
But I’ll run out of any store
That reeks of potpourri.

Incense makes me queasy, though
Cigars and pipes are fine;
Cigarette smoke I can’t stand
Though once, I crossed that line.

Sometimes just a whiff of scent
Can conjure up a place;
Smells get lodged inside our brain,
Not easy to erase.

How we feel about a smell
Won’t change – it’s like we’re stuck;
And therefore some scents get an “Ahh…”
While others yield a “Yuck!”

Spending

I know people who won’t shop
Unless it’s at Whole Foods;
They’ll indulge in gourmet fare
Depending on their moods.

To me this is outrageous, ‘cause
Their prices are so steep;
I’ll stop in there from time to time –
You may think that I’m cheap,

But mostly it’s my way of life:
Pay less if you have choices.
It’s hard ignoring such advice
From age-old inner voices.

When I eat in a restaurant,
I’ll choose, aware of prices;
Being quite extravagant
Is not one of my vices.

Yet there are certain things I’ll buy
No matter what they cost,
Which some might find quite frivolous,
As though my mind were lost.

It might be funky earrings
Or a whirligig of wood;
We each have things we purchase
Just to make ourselves feel good.

Perhaps you treat yourself to sheets
With top-notch silk and thread;
I’d rather buy four cheaper sets
To grace my bed instead.

And maybe you must drive a car
Of German sleek design;
I’m content with four-wheel drive
That gets me ‘round just fine.

Or else you may think you deserve
Fine wines from certain years;
I’ll drink any vintage, but
I’ll splurge on small-brew beers.

It’s very individual,
The way our money’s spent.
A shrink could have a party
Analyzing what it meant.

Icy

When all the street corners
Are covered with ice,
Proceeding with caution
Won’t always suffice.

Some people step lively –
Determined, with purpose,
Regardless of how slick
Or scary the surface.

While others take baby treads,
Slowly advancing;
Gingerly stepping
Like slow-motion dancing.

It doesn’t quite matter
What’s worn on your feet;
Both sneakers and snow boots
Can lead to defeat.

‘Cause with one wrong move
On a patch falsely clear,
Anyone can go down,
Ending up on your rear.

So a word of advice
As they used to declare
Way back on “Hill Street Blues” –
Hey! Be careful out there!

Meds

Is there a cure for every ill?
Does comfort dwell inside a pill?
If you feel stuffy or congested
Will meds help you, when ingested?
When you suffer from a cough,
Some medicines make doctors scoff;
And if what ails is pegged as viral,
Pills won’t help that downward spiral.
Symptoms that resemble flu
May not respond to pharma-brew;
And if the culprit is depression,
Many meds make no impression.
If sleep evades you while in bed,
Some capsules make you eat instead;
And if you’re very agitated,
Dosages will be debated.
Side effects must be considered:
Certain drugs can leave you jittered
Or lethargic, fat, or worse –
Progress may slide in reverse.
It’s a tough one to decide:
Medicate or let things ride?
Ask your doctor, hear him, but
Ultimately, trust your gut.
That’s the counsel I would follow;
Then, good luck, if you should swallow…

Flop

Imagine yourself as a skater:
You sacrifice year after year.
Your social life’s barely existent;
You’re focused so much on career.

You practice for hours and hours,
Perfecting those jumps and those spins.
You picture that magical moment
When the score says that U.S.A. wins!

You scrounge to afford all that training,
Your costumes are sequined just right;
Your muscles are aching and injured,
You can’t indulge your appetite.

With luck, all your effort’s rewarded;
You’re part of the U.S.A. team.
You’ll be at the Winter Olympics,
Fulfilling that long-ago dream.

You glide on the ice when your time comes;
You soak up the lights and the crowd.
You smile as your music gets started,
Feeling more psyched than should be allowed.

You focus on all you’ve perfected;
You gracefully leap in the air,
But fate, like a jester, is waiting,
And you fall right on your derriere!

All those years leading up to this moment,
All the effort, the struggle, the pain;
You can’t quite absorb what has happened –
Your dream has just gone down the drain.

But you pick yourself up and continue,
And you smile, though inside you’re a mess;
While the onlookers clap, but they’re thinking
That you couldn’t quite handle the stress.

It’s a little like life: Just consider
How we hope that our problems will pass;
And just when we think we’ve reached safety,
Something knocks us right onto our ass!

But like the Olympian skaters,
We brush off and get off the floor.
At least there’s one thing in our favor –
Nobody is keeping the score!

Valentine's Day

Chocolate, flowers, cards with hearts,
And the message each imparts:
“You’re a person I adore;
Who could ask for something more?”

Tell us that today’s the day
We must have something nice to say
To husbands, daughters, sons, and wives:
We’re grateful that you’re in our lives.

Even though I see your flaws,
I accept them all, because
All your plusses far outweigh
The foolish things you sometimes say.

The little habits that annoy
Do not mean that I don’t enjoy
The many ways you are so sweet;
You really make my life complete.

I’m sure you have your own long list
Of things I do that make you pissed,
But underneath the love is strong;
That’s why our union’s lasted long.

So on this day of sentiment,
I think of years that came and went
And I am thrilled you still are mine,
And hope you’ll be my valentine.

Olympic March

Watching all the athletes
As they march in, waving flags,
I marvel at their energy,
The kind that never lags.

It doesn’t matter where they’re from
Or what they represent,
Their grins announce that they are thrilled
One hundred ten percent.

Whether they’re part of a group
Or solo from their nation,
The pride reflected in their smiles
Is proof of their elation.

Doesn’t matter what their strength
Or level of ability,
The future at this moment offers
Endless possibility.

Who knows who’ll win a medal or
Who’ll fall and disappoint?
As they bounce into our view,
Not one is out of joint.

They wave, they laugh, they look around
And all of them are beaming;
I’m sure they have to pinch themselves
To see if they are dreaming.

Years of effort got them here.
They’re full of grit and pluck;
And as I watch, I wish I could
Wish each of them good luck.

Prayer

Someone said she’d pray for me,
But I just said, “No thanks!”
To me, that is equivalent to
A person shooting blanks.

I know she meant well and she thinks
Her prayers will get an answer,
But what about the earthquake dead
Or people filled with cancer?

How come their prayers went unheard?
Why were they not saved?
Surely every victim didn’t
Live a life depraved.

How about the multitudes
Who starve or get attacked?
Certainly it wasn’t just some praying
That they lacked.

If anyone finds comfort
When they close their eyes and pray,
Good for them! I hope that
All their problems go away.

But I do not believe and so
The offer won’t impress me;
Wish me well, but do not wish
For anyone to bless me.

It’s a touchy subject and
Most folks I might repel;
It’s okay because I also
Don’t believe in hell!

Catching Up

When you’ve been away and you return,
There’s so much you must do:
Laundry, phone calls, paying bills –
Of those there are a slew.

You’ve gotta stock up at the store –
Refrigerator’s bare;
Or scrounge around and come up with
A meal if you don’t care.

Newspapers wait in a pile,
Mailbox overflowing;
Seems as if your list of chores
Just grows and keeps on growing.

That’s the price you have to pay
When you go on vacation,
‘Cause upon return the stress
Is back for the duration…

Eyeing the Storm

When a blizzard approaches
And you are away,
It's a little unreal
And you know you will pay.

You can't quite relax
'Cause the worry invades:
Will my flight be delayed?
Your vacation mode fades.

Will my car be dug out?
Will the roads all be clear?
Can the storm really rage
While the sun's shining here?

If the snow is a-swirl
Will the airport be shut?
Every inch of my brain
Fills with "what-if" and "but..."

I obsess on the news,
Watch the weatherman preen:
"The storm of the century!
Worst I have seen!"

Yet there's nothing to do
'Cause I'm miles out of range.
I can hope against hope
That the forecast will change.

But I'll have to accept
What the hand is I'm dealt;
'Cause life will go on
And the snow's gotta melt.

In the meantime, I'll bask
In this weather I borrow;
My worries can wait
'Til I fly home tomorrow.

Connected

It used to be when you went away
That you were out of touch,
But with technology today
You can't escape as much.

You know your email's piling up
So you just have to check it,
And doing so takes solitude
And tries its best to wreck it.

Your cell phone works most everywhere,
You always can be reached;
And if you try ignoring it,
Well, etiquette is breached.

Folks who Twitter, text or stay
Attached to their Blackberry,
Don't comprehend "vacation" much
Or anyway, not very.

There must be locations
To be incommunicado,
But they'd only lure a true
Escape aficionado.

Most of us can't claim that crown
For reasons deep or shallow,
So we will connect, so our connections
Won't grow fallow.

Which is why, although I am
A thousand miles away,
I sit at a computer
And will post this poem today.

My Pillow

When I go to sleep,
I’m certain to frown
If the pillow I lie on
Is not made of down.

Some people like feathers,
Synthetic or foam,
But give me that goose fluff
And I know I’m home.

It needn’t be king-size
Or top-notch grade A,
But goose down below me
Keeps nightmares at bay.

Wherever I travel,
At inn or hotel,
The room may be lovely
But I won’t sleep well.

They’ll try to impress with
Four pillows, or six;
They’ll look very fancy
But feel just like bricks!

I won’t take my pillow
When I go away;
I’ll manage without it,
Although I will pay.

But when I come home
And to bed I will creep,
My pillow will be there
To lull me to sleep.

Super Bowl

Don’t care ‘bout the Super Bowl;
I cannot tell a lie.
Maybe I’d feel differently
If I’d been born a guy.

Couldn’t care less ‘bout the score
Or who’s got what it takes,
But of course I’ll watch the game
On the commercial breaks.

Everybody wants to see
Which ads will be the best;
Every year we wonder who
Will ace this little test.

Mucho money is at stake,
Bragging rights as well;
And each company believes
That their ads will excel.

Ask around tomorrow
And see who knows the score;
The commercials will be what
We all remember more.

Are New Yorkers loyal to
A football Colt or Saint?
If you ask me, I’ll reply,
“No, I guess we ain’t!”

Nervous

What do you do when you’re nervous?
How do you handle the stress?
Do you take all of your problems in stride
Or, like others, turn into a mess?

Some folks pace, or stuff their face;
Others stare or twirl their hair.
Many drink, stutter, cramp, or blink,
Or bite their nails or go off the rails.

Every behavior I’ve mentioned
Is simply a method of coping,
‘Cause when anxiety visits
We do much more moping than hoping.

Visions of negative outcomes
Bombard us and ruin our dreams;
Though we have reason to worry,
It may not be as bad as it seems.

Everyone faces disaster
At least a few times in this life,
And how you respond is the challenge
When you are confronted with strife.

I cannot really advise you.
I’m more of the fall-apart type;
But I do believe that it’s in us
To conquer anxiety’s hype.

If anyone finds out the secret
Of dealing with nerves and with stress,
Please share it so maybe the next time,
I can LOL at SOS.

Dogs

Watching people walking dogs
Is often very strange;
Canine personalities
Are likely not to change.

Whether friendly, shy, or mean,
Pedigree or mutt,
Meeting one another’s time
To sniff each other’s butt.

It’s not very subtle;
They don’t try to disguise it.
We find it distasteful
But of course we recognize it.

It takes away the need for
Meeting for a drink.
All that chitchat just to see
What does the other think.

Dogs don’t need to do that;
They cut right to the chase:
It’s your butt I’m after,
Don’t care about your face.

I’m relieved that humans
Are rather more discreet,
‘Cause I would hate to sniff the butt
Of everyone I meet!

Lost

I saw a lost belt on the street,
Most likely from a coat;
I thought the chances of reunion
Were, at best, remote.

I wondered, had it fallen off
While running for the bus?
And when its owner noticed,
Did said owner make a fuss?

Would he or she return to search,
Retrace that morning route –
Or shrug it off, indifferent, and
Continue the commute?

If it were me, I’d agonize
And fall into a funk;
If gods of mirth were testing me,
I certainly would flunk.

I often spot a lonely scarf,
A mitten or a glove
Upon the sidewalk waiting to
Be rescued from above,

But something really got to me
When I walked by that belt;
I put myself in that gal’s coat
And knew just how she felt.

I’ll never know how it turned out,
No way to have it traced;
But I am hoping that belt’s tied
Around its owner’s waist!

Groundhog Day

Two groundhogs seemed to disagree
And I am not surprised.
It’s hard to do your job
When so intently scrutinized.

Punxsutawney Phil did see
His shadow, and that means
Six more weeks of winter:
Keep those snow-blowing machines!

Staten Island Chuck emerged;
His shadow stayed away.
Those who analyze predict
We’ll soon see spring’s display.

Choose to be an optimist,
Like Staten Island Chuck,
Or focus on the negative:
Let winter run amok.

Either way, the seasons change
As they are meant to do,
Despite the shadows of some rodents
Who don’t have a clue.

Elevator Smells

If in an apartment you may dwell,
You’ll be attuned to every smell
That wafts inside the elevator
Left by every perpetrator:

The ultra-perfumed female suit,
The lure of which is in dispute.
The dog walk guy with clothes that reek;
They stay unwashed from week to week.

The aftershave with too much splash;
With fresh air it appears to clash.
The up-close spicy onion breath –
Oh, grant me liberty or death!

Sometimes cooking smells float in,
And it requires discipline
To rein in my disgusted shiver
When someone’s sautéing liver.

Still, I’ll cope with every smell
‘Cause not a one could quite compel
Me to (despite what I abhor)
Walk up and down from the ninth floor!

New Month

Turn the page of the calendar;
A month has disappeared.
Hours and minutes come unglued;
They would have once adhered.

Where did all the days go?
How’d they fly so fast?
Seems to be that time stretched out
Much longer in the past.

It feels like just last weekend
The New Year’s clock struck twelve.
With a champagne toast I planned
The sites where I would delve.

So it’s quite amazing
That four weeks have slipped by.
Time’s like steam that floats away
And won’t solidify.

Still I’ll try to grasp it,
Convert it into ice;
‘Cause evaporating days
Will simply not suffice.

This new month’s even shorter,
So it is paramount
That every second I accomplish
Something that will count.