Three Nuns

As I approached the promenade,
A place for walks or runs,
I spotted, strolling rapidly,
Three dressed-in-habit nuns.

They ambled in size order
In their sensible black shoes,
Absorbed in conversation,
Hardly noticing the views.

I followed them at first, drawn to
Their black and white attire;
Others stared as well – perhaps
To question or admire.

It isn’t every day you see
A nun, yet here were three.
I wondered where they came from,
Which was quite a mystery.

When faced with the unusual,
My mind will reach and grab it;
And sometimes, please forgive me,
This might even be a habit!

Cyber Monday

If you go online today,
Then you will be accosted
By every catalogue there is –
It will leave you exhausted!

Just in case you didn’t shop
At each Black Friday sale,
Today’s the day to shop online
And bargains will prevail.

Take off ten percent and yes,
They’ll send it with free shipping.
Think of all the crowds and hassles
That you will be skipping.

Just make sure your anti-virus
Software’s up to date;
Cyber-thieves do lurk
And your ID they’ll confiscate.

But if you’re careful, you can shop
Right from your living room.
Modern times enables
Even hermits to consume.

So grab that credit card,
You shoppers – now’s your time to shine!
All your gifts can now be found
If you log in online.

Trading Up

If an opportunity
Came knocking at your door,
Would you ask it in for tea,
Wanting to hear more?

Supposed it was explained to you
Your life would so improve
If to a bigger, better house
You’d have the chance to move.

Some folks would weigh the difference
Of finances and such,
And then decide to go for it,
Not agonizing much.

Other people’d hesitate,
Afraid to take that leap;
In their indecisive mode,
They’d lose a lot of sleep.

As for me, I’m set for life.
I like where I reside;
Yet when I visit better homes,
My envy I can’t hide.

Perhaps I could trade up, I think.
I’d love that water view,
And all that space to entertain –
Such joys I could accrue.

Yet since my house is free and clear,
It doesn’t make much sense
In this, the winter of my life,
To take on that expense.

So when I visit other homes,
Though lovely they might be,
I’m happy still to come back home,
A perfect place for me!

By a Thread

I got a phone call bearing news
Of an untimely death.
It seems a former colleague, in his sleep,
Took his last breath.

We worked together many years;
He hadn't yet retired.
Yet now his lease on life
Has prematurely been expired.

It makes you realize life is short.
Of course we know that, still,
We don't expect that sudden drop
Before we crest the hill.

But we can never be prepared
For our Grim Reaper date;
So we're reminded we should live
Before it is too late.

One minute you are full of plans
And suddenly, you're dead.
We forget that every day,
We're hanging by a thread.

Receiving news about a death
Feels just like being slapped.
It makes me think about that thread,
Just waiting to be snapped.

Shopping Around

We buy our gas in Jersey,
If we can work it out.
The price is so much cheaper
If you choose a Jersey route.

For coffee, I like Trader Joe’s,
And Shoprite has great beer;
Fairway has flat bagels,
Which quickly disappear.

Chinatown has almond cookies,
Worth a special trip;
And berries from my local fruit stand
I will never skip.

One store has the cheese I buy,
A different one the meat;
A gourmet store has all the bread
I really love to eat.

I have my favorite sources
For my muffins, scones and pies,
And on occasion I’ll indulge
And make some Whole Foods buys.

It really pays to shop around
No matter what you buy;
‘Cause as the brokers like to say,
You should diversify!

"Alice's Restaurant"

It wouldn’t be Thanksgiving,
Despite the turkey meal,
If I missed Arlo Guthrie’s song,
My husband at the wheel.

For every year, Thanksgiving Day,
As it approaches noon,
We find the FM station
That’s all set to play that tune.

It’s part of our tradition
As we take our turkey jaunt
To join with Arlo as he sings
About that restaurant.

The words are mostly spoken
And it’s twenty minutes long,
But it’s a way to join my past
And present, with a song.

“You can get anything you want”
Is how the lyric goes;
But what I’m really getting
Is not anything that shows.

For flashing to the 60’s
In the way that that song does,
Reminds me of those days gone by
And life the way it was.

If someone said one day I’d sing
With my kids ‘bout the draft,
It would have sounded crazy
And I’m sure I would have laughed.

And yet today, we did just that,
Our voices at full blast;
And I thank Arlo Guthrie
For that linkage to my past.

Not in Service

When I’m waiting for a bus
And I am running late,
There’s a sight I often see
And it’s one that I hate.

As the time goes ticking by,
I get extremely nervous;
Then I’ll finally see a bus
But it says “Not in Service.”

I don’t understand that sign;
The engine must be working.
Envisioning the driver’s face,
I think he must be smirking.

Passing by a crowded stop,
He drives right by – to where?
It’s obvious we’re waiting,
But he doesn’t seem to care.

If he did, he’d surely stop
And call to us in line,
“Hop on board and by the way,
Please disregard that sign!”

But that will never happen.
“Not in Service” buses pass;
Their engines hum, their drivers smirk,
Their tanks are full of gas.

And we, the passengers-to-be,
Stand in the cold and rain;
And there is nothing we can do,
But rightfully complain!

'Tisn't Yet the Season

Though it isn’t quite Thanksgiving,
Christmas goods have hit each store.
Every year this happens sooner
Than it did the year before.

It was warm today and sunny,
But fake snowmen did appear;
And some FM stations are already
Spreading Christmas cheer.

At least Chanukah is early,
So to me there is a reason
Why I should be getting ready
For this holiday-time season.

But if you’re expecting Santa,
Then you have a while to wait;
Though if you believe the stores, it’s time
To start to celebrate.

Forty-Seven Years Ago

Where were you in ‘63
On this November date?
Surely you remember
If you weren’t born too late.

How you heard has certainly
Been branded in your mind.
That’s the day when innocence
Was cruelly left behind.

The images repeatedly
Shown on the TV screen
Remain indelible and still
Surprising and obscene.

The pillbox hat, the bright pink suit,
The head snapped back, the blood;
John-John’s small salute releasing
Tears enough to flood.

Before the towers tumbled down
We had ourselves a taste
Of how a gorgeous day could soon
By horror be replaced.

Those who weren’t yet alive
Have heard, but can’t remember;
But we who watched will not forget
That sad day in November.

Perked

My coffee pot broke down today;
I’ve had it thirty years.
It always made a perfect brew,
Despite how it appears.

It’s dented, dull and slightly stained.
Its handle’s partly burned;
But when I put the coffee up,
I’d leave it, unconcerned.

It’s quite old-fashioned, you should know,
Because it percolates.
When people tout the joys of drip,
We’ve had some great debates.

I perk it for eight minutes
And not one drop do I waste.
When visitors enjoy a cup,
They marvel at the taste.

There’s only room for three small cups,
Just right to have each morning;
And then, today, it didn’t work –
Weak coffee, with no warning.

I had a spare pot tucked away
My husband once presented,
Thinking I’d prefer a new one
To one old and dented.

And so I tried it out today.
Perhaps I am to blame –
I set it up just right and yet,
It didn’t taste the same.

I miss my little coffee pot.
I know things cannot last,
But sadly, here’s another thing
Much better in the past.

Car Radio

Watch the people in the cars,
Grooving to a song;
Can’t hear what they’re listening to,
So I can’t groove along.

But my radio is set
To music that I like,
And I am bopping to the beat
While driving on the pike.

There are drivers tuned to jazz
Or classical or rap,
Oldies, rock & roll, all found
Upon the music map.

Country music has its fans;
Some favor R & B.
Many turn to talk shows
When they tire of melody.

No matter what the station is
That’s playing in each car,
We’d all agree that radio
Helps car trips seem less far.

Vibrate

I heard a cell phone do its buzz;
On vibrate it was set.
I never found out whose it was
And it’s vibrating yet.

Although I didn’t hear its ring,
It made its presence known.
Who knows what message it did bring,
Or who did own that phone.

Perhaps it plays a snazzy tune
When on another setting;
But, somehow on this afternoon,
That buzz is all I’m getting.

The owner has stepped from the room
So I alone do hear it;
And whether it brings joy or doom,
It’s not my place to clear it.

So I’ll just sit and listen
As it vibrates as it should,
And hope a smile will glisten
When the news it brings is good.

What to Wear

I never know quite how to dress
When temperatures may vary.
The weatherman spouts numbers
But they’re often arbitrary.

For even if it’s warm outside,
The weather rather pleasing,
You may encounter subway cars
That totally are freezing.

Some office buildings also keep
Their A/C on all year;
So if you leave your sweater home,
You will not persevere.

I guess when getting dressed
All-weather wear should be your goal,
‘Cause you can never know
Who’s at the damn A/C control!

With You in Mind

An advertisement in The Times
Intrigued me and much more;
It showed a German watch
For purchase at a Soho store.

The catchphrase there in black and white,
Right there for you to find,
Is, at three hundred bucks, that watch is
“Priced with you in mind.”

Just who’s the “you” they’re thinking of;
It’s certainly not me.
I won’t spend that much on a watch
And that’s a guarantee.

Yet somebody who wrote that ad
Believes the price is right;
And those who’d buy that watch
Would surely climb to fashion’s height.

But what about the rest of us
Who will not spend that much?
I think the ad man just might be
A little out of touch.

It’s obvious that to this new
Economy he’s blind;
For many of us aren’t those
That ad man had in mind.

Parenthood

Actors act and drivers drive
And workers work construction.
Policemen police and teachers
Are instructing with instruction.

Dentists drill and politicians
Govern when not stumping.
Joggers jog and body builders
Build their muscles pumping.

Writers write and doctors heal
And lawyers help their clients.
Research people search for cures,
Relying on their science.

Musicians play their instruments
And dancers practice dance.
Magicians do hypnosis
Getting someone in a trance.

People work at jobs all day
Both slow or in a hurry;
And if they’re also parents
Then their main job is to worry.

Your occupation never trumps
Your work as dad or mama,
Even if your title’s
Like the one held by Obama.

Parenthood is one career
For which you cannot train.
You join its ranks while unfamiliar
With its vast terrain.

Yet whether it’s a job at which
You stink or you excel,
Your offspring’s always on your mind,
Before your clientele.

No tangible rewards exist –
Promotion, perk or praise;
But, oh, the finished product
Never ceases to amaze!

Jeans

Ever since my early teens,
When off from work or school,
I’ve always like to dress in jeans,
‘Cause denim seemed to rule.

Of course, they were called dungarees
And only came in blue;
And when they ripped right through the knees,
We knew just what to do.

We’d sew a patch right on that rip
Or else we’d throw them out;
‘Cause pants with holes was just not hip –
It was a poor man’s shout.

Today, with denim still in style,
The choices do astound.
Just hit a store and stroll the aisle,
For jeans are all around.

Low-slung, studded, tight, distressed,
In colors of your choice;
What you pick out when you get dressed
Reflects your novel voice.

Yet in my closet, I can’t find
One pair of jeans I like.
My fashion sense is way behind
Or maybe just on strike.

It once was easier to choose
From Wranglers, Levi’s, Lees,
But jeans so varied do confuse –
I miss my dungarees!

Looking for a Spot

You drive one hundred miles,
Make it home as it turns dark;
You cannot wait to have a beer,
But first you have to park.

You circle round and round the block,
Your prospects looking dim;
So many cars are looking, too,
Your chances seem quite slim.

You notice motorcycles
Parked in car-sized parking spots.
Your blood pressure is on the rise,
Your stomach all in knots.

Ten minutes turns to twenty, yet
You sit and stew and drive.
Your family’s home and wondering
How long ‘til you arrive.

Your dashboard clock says now
It’s thirty minutes to the dot
Since you began your quest,
And suddenly – you see a spot!

It’s tight but it is legal;
You maneuver and you’re in.
A passerby might wonder
‘Bout the reason for your grin.

‘Cause once you’ve parked, you’re feeling great –
Not nervous, tense or queasy.
How quickly we forget, and think
That parking spot was easy!

The Gift

My husband bought a gift for me.
He doesn’t know it yet;
But when he hears about it
He’ll be happy, I would bet.

Our anniversary is soon
So it’s the time to splurge,
And at a craft fair I was hit
With that so timely urge.

Of course, I could have purchased
My new necklace for myself.
It lured me like a siren song
From its perch on a shelf.

But usually I would not let
Desire overrule
The buy/resist parts of my brain
Engaged in quite a duel.

But since there’s cause to celebrate
The day that we were wed,
I made the deal as if my husband
Purchased it instead.

I cannot wait to show him
The cool necklace that he bought.
He’ll love it more when he finds out
The joy that he has wrought.

Cruise Ship

I’ve never ventured on a cruise.
For me, there’s no appeal;
And that’s just been confirmed
By this late Carnival ordeal.

Imagine packing for a trip,
A long-desired vacation.
You agonized but finally chose
The perfect destination.

You made all your arrangements –
Plants and mail and care of pets;
You board your ship and head to sea –
You’re feeling no regrets.

But on your thirteen story ship,
An unexpected fire
Erupts and takes the power out –
How’d such a thing transpire?

For now 3,000 passengers
Aboard a ship called Splendor,
Have learned first hand exactly what
This happening would render.

Three days at sea with no A/C
Nor bathrooms – oh, the smell!
No hum of electricity –
It sounds like living hell.

But most of those on board declared
They’d take another cruise.
With refund offers and free trips,
There isn’t much to lose.

For me – no thanks! I’ll stick to land.
I’ll be content to skip
The chance of being stranded
On a hot, tight, smelly ship!

Avoiding the Flu

I went to get a flu shot
So I won’t get the flu.
It seemed to be the proper
Grown-up, right-on thing to do.

I bypassed all the drug stores
Which announced they had the shots,
And went to see my doctor
With my stomach all in knots.

I wasn’t really nervous
‘Cause I have the shot each year,
But I’ve been sick and only now
Do I feel in the clear.

Yet I will be injected
With some influenza germs;
And I just hope my blood and them
Can quickly come to terms.

Because the thing I do not want,
The last thing I would pick,
Is that the flu beats down my cells
And I start feeling sick.

Now – ouch! I got the flu shot.
One jab and it was done.
My immunity to getting flu’s
Officially begun.

I think I’m quite protected.
I feel confident and strong.
Of course there always is
The possibility I’m wrong!

Beyond the Border

A discussion that I overheard
Intrigued and made me think.
The topic was upcoming trips –
Most women were in sync.

One was California bound,
Another, Arizona.
They all preferred a U.S. tour –
No Rome or Barcelona.

“There’s just so much to see right here,
Such treasures to explore.
Our country’s filled with beauty
And it’s waiting at our door.

Europe is a world away;
It’s dangerous and pricey.
The languages are challenging
And all the food is spicy!”

While I agree the U.S.A.
Has many great attractions,
I was surprised to hear
Such anti-Europe trip reactions.

I, too, would like to travel to
Sedona and Palm Springs;
But Italy is where I’ll go
When I next pack my things.

There’s a limit to the time
We splurge on a vacation,
And I will never make it to
Each yearned-for destination.

But of the many places
I’ve included on my list,
Most are on the continent
These women just dismissed.

We all have reasons why we make
Our own sightseeing choices,
But I was taken quite aback
By U.S. only voices.

Heading Out

After you’ve been sick
And you rejoin the world outside,
You realize how much you have missed
What nature can provide.

The sunshine and the crisp, fresh air,
The sky, the clouds, the breezes;
It feels great to breathe it in -
It’s worth a few more sneezes.

Cabin fever sucks you dry
Although you may keep busy;
But if you venture out too soon,
You’ll get worn out and dizzy.

Still, today I’ll take a chance
To test how I am feeling.
Honey sunshine’s beckoning
And boy, it looks appealing!

I know I’m not completely cured,
Don’t feel quite up to snuff;
But maybe with a little push
That will just be enough.

I need to taste this autumn day;
I’ve been indoors too long.
A little voice says, “Take it slow.”
I hope that voice is wrong!

Fifteen Minutes

Today I’m in The New York Times!
I’m really so excited.
It isn’t every day that my
Submissions are invited.

I emailed people that I know
So they can check it out;
And then I wondered if it was
Obnoxious to so shout.

I’m proud, of course, but must admit
I’m saying – Look at me!
Perhaps I should have let them
Spot it accidentally.

I wonder ‘bout those writers
With books on a Borders shelf.
Do they feel tempted to announce,
“I wrote that book myself!”

Would they grab would-be customers,
Point to each stacked-up spine,
And gleefully declare aloud,
“You know – that book is mine!”

They’d probably just stand and gaze
And share a little smile.
That’s the classy way to go,
A published author’s style.

But since I’m still an amateur,
I guess that I can crow –
My poem is in The Times!
If you don’t have your copy – go!

Detour

The New York City Marathon
Has closed the bridge we need;
But there are other ways to go,
And that is guaranteed.

Often detours block our path –
Most often, we don’t know it;
And they can cut our journey off
Or at the least, just slow it.

Roadblocks unforeseen appear
In many different guises.
Steering through such obstacles
May yield a few surprises.

The road is rarely smooth
Between Point A and Endpoint B.
Our driving skills may help
To keep us safe, to a degree.

But every day, it’s possible
Our route will be diverted;
And if we’re diligent
A tragedy may be averted.

We cannot plan for detours
But at least we stand a chance,
If just their probability
We ponder in advance.

More than Half

In most relationships
The give and take is not quite equal.
While dating, it might seem to be,
But rarely in the sequel.

You may divide the chores, per se:
He vacuums and you dust.
Somehow, those things get sorted out –
You tinker and adjust.

But household tasks are not enough
To take an honest measure
Of who contributes what percent
To boost the other’s pleasure.

So many other factors enter
Into this equation;
And naturally the balance tips
On more than one occasion.

But I can state with certainty,
Can prove it on a graph,
That in my life, my husband
Truly is the better half.

He’s more than just supportive,
He’s my truest, biggest fan.
There hasn’t been a better partner
Since “I do’s” began.

He teases me that I’d miss him
More than he would miss me
If he would predecease,
And really, I can’t disagree.

I know I’m luckier than most
Though I don’t really show it.
I’m writing this so my sweet spouse
And all the world may know it.

Energy (or Lack of)

To make a vacuum cleaner go,
You have to plug it in.
Electric current also helps
Your toaster to begin.

A flashlight needs a battery
And likewise for a watch.
It’s known that many get a boost
From one quick shot of Scotch.

But power outages occur
And batteries go dead;
While AA members make a vow
And soda sip instead.

When energy’s depleted
If you have a sickness bug,
You feel just like a vacuum
With a fraying wire or plug.

Appliances are clueless, though,
When they are not employed.
The humans who depend on them
Have cause to be annoyed.

So we exchange the dried out cells
Or we replace the fuse.
It’s often not the biggest deal
With not too much to lose.

Yet when we’re sick, we’re so wiped out
To all it’s evident
That our get up and go has gone,
And who knows where it went.

So here I sit, not feeling great,
Without my normal pluck;
And, missing all my energy,
I feel unplugged and stuck!

Having Time

Having time’s a precious thing
And really, one should use it.
We can’t know what lies ahead
And someday, we could lose it.

For some, it’s extra hours
Just to sleep or lie in bed.
Others paint or cook or knit
Or exercise instead.

If you are not hemmed in by work
Or family obligations,
The minutes stretch out, beckoning
To all your inclinations.

These well-earned moments let me read
Two novels at a time!
The crossword waits for me each day
As does my daily rhyme.

I gobble up The New York Times
And several magazines.
I walk for exercise
And am ensconced in my routines.

I take some crafting classes
And I email without fail.
I get to take advantage
When I see a special sale.

I travel sometimes – not enough,
But more than years before;
Yet when I’m home, I’m happy
As my key unlocks the door.

I worked for many years and now
I’m reaping the reward.
I have the time to fill my way,
And I am never bored.

Survivor

I watched a You-Tube video,
A forward from a friend,
A story so uplifting
It’s a site I’d recommend.

A Holocaust survivor,
Now the age of 106,
Has been kept alive by music
And her playing does transfix.

She plays the piano as she did
For Nazis in the war.
Her spirit and her courage
One can really not ignore.

She has no rancor in her soul;
She never does complain.
She simply does not understand
What hatred lets us gain.

She’s visited by many people
Just to be inspired.
Being in her presence,
Optimism is required.

It’s hard for me to comprehend
An attitude like hers,
Sailing forth through life
Despite the horror that occurs.

It makes me realize temperament,
Much more than looks or smarts,
Can help you to avoid the pricks
Of nature’s poison darts.

An upbeat personality
And instinct to survive
Can possibly be what it takes
To not just live, but thrive.

Election Day

I have a cold, stuffed nose, sore throat,
But still I’ll make it out to vote.
Though my one voice won’t count a lot,
It’s all the input I have got.

When people grouse ‘bout those elected,
Often it’s as I suspected,
Voting goes against their grain,
Yet they’re entitled to complain!

So I will hustle to the school,
Use paper ballot – retro-cool,
And make the choices I think best
While passing over all the rest.

Tomorrow we will see who won
From all the people who did run;
And if my candidates got through,
I’ll know I did what I could do.

Day of the Dead

In Mexico, today’s the day
To celebrate the dead.
The people aren’t scared or sad;
They feel great joy instead.

Festivities fill up the night
To honor those who’ve passed.
Acknowledgement is made that life
Is short and does not last.

Thus on this day, the skeleton’s
An image to revere;
Though now it lies six feet below,
At one time it lived here.

So everyone remembers
And drinks toasts to the deceased.
It’s such a lovely custom
And not morbid in the least.

It makes me think of those I know
Who have succumbed to death,
And hope somebody thinks of me
When I take my last breath.

And as the years go by,
It’s very comforting to think
That maybe in my memory
Someone will raise a drink.