Looking Back

Today’s a day for looking back
To see how we have fared.
Did we tackle all our problems?
Get some broken things repaired?

Have horizons been expanded?
Were some buried truths revealed?
Some relationships cemented?
Have some painful wounds been healed?

Did we rise to every challenge?
Or just skulk away to stew?
We can tally up the columns
For an end-of-year review.

But the numbers do not matter,
If we chose to grin or grieve.
We can wipe the blackboard clean,
For tonight is New Year’s Eve.

So we’ll celebrate an ending;
All the bad will disappear
As we set the clock to zero
And begin a brand new year!

Just Ask

Got discount tickets for a play –
What seats, we didn’t know;
When we arrived, the usher took us
Right to the front row.

We were so close, we’d have to look
Straight up to see the stage;
The players’ brand of underwear
We probably could gauge.

Our necks would have to be so bent
That after watching actors,
We’d have to leave the theater
And head to the chiropractor’s!

Instead, I asked an usher if
Our seats just might be changed.
She found the manager, who helped
To get it rearranged.

We thoroughly enjoyed the show
And though most seats were filled,
The balcony was comfortable;
Anxieties were stilled.

I looked down at the audience
To those who sat so close,
And felt so glad that to those seats
We gave an adios.

It always pays, when you don’t like
The way some things may go,
To open up your mouth and ask
‘Cause hey – you never know!

Stepping Out

Choose a different neighborhood
From that where you reside,
Google it, then meet some friends
And you can be their guide.

If you’re in the city
And you’re willing to explore,
You’ll discover many treasures
That you’ve never seen before –

A restaurant, a gallery,
Museum, store or bar –
All beckon, making you feel glad
You’ve landed where you are.

You wander happily around
And browse and drink and dine;
You’re almost like a tourist
But you haven’t crossed the line.

‘Cause you still belong; nobody
Would confuse you with a guest.
If natives had a lie detector,
You would pass the test.

Yet it’s fun to step outside your turf
And sample the unknown.
There’s a whole wide world that’s waiting
Just beyond your comfort zone.

Beep Beep

A teenaged tourist asked his dad
Why all the cars were “beeping.”
It happened right near Central Park,
With traffic slowly creeping.

His dad believed the honking was
So cars ahead would go.
The son replied that “beeping”
Wouldn’t help or make it so.

I wanted to explain to them
What honking’s all about –
Frustration builds inside and soon
It needs an exit out.

A city driver at a crawl
Will often start to lose it;
His horn is there for times like these
And he’ll be glad to use it.

So this “beeping,” as the tourists say,
Helps keep the driver sane.
I guess to out-of-towners,
It’s a hard thing to explain.

It seems most rural drivers
Don’t have need to use their horn.
Perhaps the way we drive reflects
The place where we were born.

Extinct

Tyrannosaurus bit the dust;
Velociraptor, too.
Triceratops and stegosaurus
Vanished from our view.

We’ve all heard of extinction,
Which is where the dinos went;
But a “saurus” fled that fate
And did survive, to some extent.

What I speak of is thesaurus,
Thick and mighty in its power.
The words it holds inside
Should make a lowly mortal cower.

Yet one can access what it hides
And tame it for its treasure.
A little effort lets one reap
Rewards too huge to measure.

Alas, most folks are not aware
This cryptic beast exists;
Thus, lackluster vocabulary
Sorrily persists.

If writers do not nurture it
Before their words are inked,
Someday soon the grand thesaurus
Will join those who are extinct.

From Page to Screen

If you go to see a movie
After you have read the book,
You may wonder at the liberties
The film producers took.

For so many things get lost or changed
In media transition,
That I question whether they received
The novelist’s permission.

When a writer writes a book, he knows
How each scene should appear;
The characters and how they look
To him, are crystal clear.

Yet once those rights are signed away,
The writer might just find
That the actor on the screen is not
The face he had in mind.

Some chunks of action get left out
And details get adjusted.
It’s possible the author feels
Quite angry or disgusted.

I guess his compensation
Makes him leave those thoughts alone.
Control is lost, like parents
Once their child has up and grown.

But when I watch the movie
Of a book that I’ve enjoyed,
I wonder if the author’s
Feeling happy or annoyed.

Holiday Music

Spent two hours in the car;
The radio was blasting.
Christmas music was what every
Station was broadcasting.

Some arrangements seemed so old,
The singers must be dead.
All the lyrics, though, are stored
Forever in my head.

There were favorite singers, too –
Bruce Springsteen and John Lennon.
Most were non-religious tunes –
No praisin’ or amenin’.

So we sang along as Santa
Made his jolly way to town.
We belted out the words
And memory never let us down.

With Deck the Halls and Frosty,
Rudolph, Sleigh Bells and the like,
We harmonized as traffic
Zipped around us on the pike.

Though this is not my holiday,
I joined in every song.
Enjoying others’ music surely
Helps us get along.

But once at home, as darkness fell,
I stopped my Christmas croon.
My candles waited to be lit
To quite a different tune.

Erev Christmas

Tonight is Erev Christmas,
A modern contradiction.
It’s time for all to celebrate –
Religion’s no restriction.

In “Seinfeld,” they had Festivus,
Costanzas’ adaptation;
But Erev Christmas could catch on
And be an inspiration.

We’d eat our crispy latkes
Underneath the tinseled tree;
Then we’d light menorah candles,
Red and green though they may be.

We’d spin our dreidels, waiting
For St. Nick to show his face.
We’d leave him jelly donuts
In the Christmas cookies place.

We’d deck the halls with challah
And we’d try to rein in fights
When the kiddies learn their gifts would be
Spread out for eight long nights.

I guess that after all, this combo
May not be ideal,
For holidays are personal
And have their own appeal.

So whether you play dreidel
Or enjoy some Christmas cheer,
Here’s a wish for health and happiness
All through the coming year.

Number 2

When I jot down the words that I
Have forming in my head,
The only tool required is
A pencil filled with lead.

A pen won’t do the trick for me;
A keyboard holds no lure.
It’s only with a number 2
That I feel most secure.

The yellow ones I like the best,
Though I get out of joint
If I’m not near a sharpener
And I’ve worn down the point.

The plastic ones with lead inside
Work well when on the road;
But I prefer the pencils that
One doesn’t have to load.

Of course my pencils must possess
Erasers at the end.
A pencil lacking such a tool
I wouldn’t recommend.

I’m writing this right now to praise
My very best utensil –
And naturally, my fingers grasp
A number 2 lead pencil!

Give and Take

Friendship is a give and take.
We know the rules and what’s at stake;
For take-take-take and never give
Is something most friends won’t forgive.

At times we each must sacrifice
To compromise, or pay the price.
Just play the game, for in the end
You’ll be rewarded with a friend.

This push-pull law, it’s no surprise,
In all relationships, applies.
So heed these words, for goodness’ sake:
Make sure you give as well as take!

Small Decisions

A holiday craft fair – I needed a bag.
I’d looked for a while, and that was a drag.
I passed by a vendor – a bag called my name.
It had a few faults; my objections seemed lame.

The straps were too short. It was shaped like a sack;
But it offered more than the things it did lack.
The leather was mushy, so soft to the touch;
I knew that I liked it – was not sure how much.

A discount was offered, the stuffing removed.
When slung on my shoulder, its comfort was proved.
I stood there and held it; the minutes ticked by.
The saleswoman laughed, but no pressure’d apply.

At last I decided I’d spring for the purse;
‘Cause if I had left it, I knew I’d feel worse.
The vendor then asked how I ever decide
If there’s something important from which I can’t hide.

I told her decisions get easy for me,
The bigger they are or they’re seeming to be.
I struggle with small stuff – it’s hard to explain;
But the huge resolutions require no strain.

Yet a purchase when I’m not quite sure how I feel
Somehow seems to appear like a really big deal.
So I’ve got a new bag – what an effort to get it!
My fingers are crossed that I will not regret it!

Hovering

A helicopter hovered
In the east side New York sky.
It looked just like the hummingbirds
I spot in mid-July.

Its headlight darted left and right,
Like it was on a quest.
I wondered if the search was real,
Or was it just a test?

No boats were in the river
Over which the copter hovered;
That made me think that there was nothing
There to be discovered.

Some minutes passed and then it slowly
Chop-chop-chopped away.
Another New York mystery
To supplement my day.

3-D

When I was just a kid,
A scary film I went to see
Was the terrifying “13 Ghosts,”
Presented in 3-D.

We watched with cardboard glasses,
One side blue and one side red;
If you didn’t want to see the ghosts,
You left them off instead.

Today I saw a 3-D film;
The glasses, though, were plastic.
I wish that I could tell you
That the 3-D was fantastic.

But sadly, that was not the case –
I found it quite distracting;
Effects to add some interest
Felt to me more like subtracting.

What really ticked me off, though,
Was the cost of each admission;
An extra 4 bucks added
To the price, without permission.

You didn’t have a choice
And once inside, the glasses stayed;
If you removed them, all was blurred,
Despite the price you paid.

Today I learned a lesson
On the value of 3-D –
That corny old technology
Was good enough for me!

Small World

At a country neighbor’s open house,
Among the many guests,
I met a former fellow teacher
And, as talk progressed,

I found out that she worked once
At a school run by my friend.
I know it’s just coincidence
But strange to comprehend.

I’ve known this friend for forty years –
We’re buddies through his wife –
Yet someone I just met last night
Has been part of his life.

This party was a hundred miles
From where my friends reside;
How often, though, through circumstance,
Disparate realms collide.

The world is shrinking, that’s for sure,
But I have no objection.
It’s kind of nice to meet someone
And unearth a connection.

In Praise of Cheeses

At breakfast time, don’t give me eggs
Or pancakes or French toast;
Some coffee and a cheese-topped bagel
Is what I like most.

Gouda, Muenster, Edam, Swiss,
American or Brie;
Jarlsberg, Asiago, Jack –
They all work fine for me.

I’m not a fan of smelly ones,
And blue cheese I despise;
I guess I’m more pedestrian
And not so worldly-wise.

But still, I’d like to offer praise
To every type that pleases;
The world would be a sadder place
If it did not have cheeses.

Cloud 9

When you’ve done your darnedest trying
And it all goes well,
Then you’re up on Cloud 9, flying,
Sittin’ for a spell.

Basking in some satisfaction
Is a well-earned pleasure.
Hearing praise as a reaction
Gives you more to treasure.

Too bad every day can’t boast
A matching dose of magic.
Maybe we’d be so engrossed
We’d rise above the tragic.

Since that cannot be, I guess
I’ll spend today defying
Whoever won’t let me express
The joy that got me flying.

Global Warming

White roses bloom
By the side of the river.
December’s half gone –
We’ve had barely a shiver.

Still haven’t put on
My jacket of down;
Snow’s on vacation,
Somewhere out of town.

I’m not complaining,
Just simply informing;
But how can somebody
Deny global warming?

I guess anyone can claim
What he believes;
But I think New Year’s Eve,
I’ll be wearing short sleeves!

Fa La La La La

I walked into a gifty store
To buy some needed gifts.
Some background music blasted out,
But not the kind that lifts.

Now ‘tis the season, that I know,
So some tunes I’m expecting;
But pretty soon I realized
Every song I was rejecting.

I don’t mind Christmas carols
Filled with Santa and his deer;
And “Jingle Bells” or “Sleigh Bells Ring”
Exude real Yuletide cheer.

I’d never veto “Chestnuts Roasting,”
“Deck the Halls” or “Frosty;”
I know the lyrics to them all,
Each dotted “i” and crossed “t.”

But those were not the songs I heard
While I was on my search;
The Jesus hymns on speakers
Were more suited to a church.

In New York City’s melting pot,
No faith should be dismissed;
And tolerance is needed
So that we can coexist.

Religious songs do not belong
In stores or in a mall.
Let’s celebrate diversity
With music meant for all.

What We Don't Need

No one really needs the gifts
We buy this time of year.
Recipients fake oohs and aahs,
Most likely insincere.

The scarves and watches, soaps and mugs,
Pajamas, books and brandy
Are purchased just for custom’s sake,
Like Halloween and candy.

We agonize ‘bout what to buy,
Then shop and shop and shop;
And when each listed name’s checked off,
We finally can stop.

I wish I could sit out this game –
I’ve had it to the hilt;
But if I didn’t get each gift,
I would be wrapped in guilt.

Naked Trees

Naked trees reach regally
To the cerulean sky.
They do not give a fig about
The people passing by.

In summer they put on a show,
With buds and leaves adorned;
But in the winter, they’re ignored,
By audiences scorned.

As if they care! They stretch,
Quite unencumbered without blooms;
And pose, admiring themselves,
In Nature’s dressing rooms.

Such freedom! They appear content,
With silhouettes serene;
I’ll miss their twiggy skeletons
When once more they are green.

Ten Thousand Santas

Yesterday, before my eyes,
I saw what was a great surprise –
Santas everywhere I gazed;
People stopped and stared, amazed.

Driving past that sea of red,
Santa caps on every head,
Santa suits in every style,
One could not suppress a smile.

Found out it was SantaCon;
Here one day and then it’s gone,
To form a festive atmosphere
Where Santas magically appear.

They move in packs from pub to pub,
Stopping for a drink or grub;
Then they march on, their humors high,
Affecting all who pass them by.

For how could anyone not grin
As all those Santas usher in
The spirit of the holidays,
Personified in scarlet blaze.

I’m grateful that I got to see
Ten thousand Santas on a spree.
I’m sure I heard, as you’d suppose,
More than ten thousand Ho-Ho-Ho’s!

Birds on a Wire

How could someone not admire
Birds lined up high on a wire?
There they perch all in a row,
Like the Rockettes in a show.

Who decides where they’ll alight?
Do they need a rest from flight?
Or is it a place to mingle?
Wire.com for those still single?

Sometimes, as I watch them land,
I try to gauge who’s in command.
It’s hard to tell, ‘cause as a group,
They come and go in one fell swoop.

Doesn’t matter who’s the leader;
Knowing wouldn’t make it sweeter.
Every time, though, that they roost,
Their presence gets some smiles produced.

The Five and Ten

When I was growing up in Brooklyn,
Which was way back when,
We’d always get just what we needed
In the Five and Ten:

Cosmetics, stockings, pots and pans,
Greeting cards and games;
Curtains, tablecloths and vases,
Clothes and picture frames.

Sundries (who knew what they were?),
45’s and candy;
Mops and brooms and other things
A housewife would have handy.

It was fun to browse the aisles
With friends right after school,
And sometimes have a malted
Sitting on a fountain stool.

The Five and Tens have shut their doors;
New stores cannot compare.
I sometimes need an item
That I can’t find anywhere.

Of course, there is the internet
To help me in my search,
But in the Five and Dime, I’d never
Be left in the lurch.

Flash Mob

Someone sent a You-Tube link
That showed a flash mob form.
Recently, such congregations
Have become the norm.

I love to watch how they begin,
With people unsuspecting,
And as the crowds form, there are strangers
Suddenly connecting.

Cell phone cameras get whipped out;
Everyone is smiling.
Choreography kicks in,
Which makes it more beguiling.

I wonder how they know their moves
Or harmonies so well.
Perhaps they practice secretly
In order to excel.

The mystery, however, surely’s
Part of the allure.
They show up unexpectedly,
Like guest stars on a tour.

I’ve never seen a flash mob yet,
Except up on my screen.
I’d love to see one in the flesh
And join in their routine.

Emergency Contact

 I filled out a form
At the place where I work
In case I’m attacked by
The evils that lurk:

A heart attack, fainting,
A stroke or a fall.
Just one contact sheet
Has to cover them all.

I wrote down the phone numbers,
Husband and son;
‘Cause in an emergency,
I know they’d run.

But hopefully once
All this info’s on file,
There won’t be a need
For their numbers to dial.

So now I’m protected.
I’ve filled out each line;
And happily, here I am,
Feeling just fine!

Five Retired Women

Five retired women
Attempt to plan a date.
Everyone is busy,
With so much on every plate.

Yoga, book clubs, beading class,
Watching tots or babies;
Trying to arrange a time
Elicits many “maybes.”

Volunteer work’s in the way,
Tennis, Zumba, travel;
Every time we choose a day,
The plan starts to unravel.

All are former teachers
And we marvel at the fact
That our leisure time, so well-deserved,
Is oh-so tightly packed.

Yet it’s comical to watch us,
With our calendars in hand,
As we try so hard to get
Some future get-togethers planned.

At last we finally succeed;
We have a date, but then,
Once we’re gathered for the next time,
It will all begin again.

Toss and Turn

Sometimes sleep eludes me
But the cause I’ll never learn;
So on those nights I have no choice
Except to toss and turn.

It’s really quite annoying
And results in great concern;
My brain is like a roiling sea
With waves that crash and churn.

It isn’t fair – the night should be
When minds get to adjourn;
For after daytime stress, some peace
Is what we’d hoped to earn.

I guess I must accept the fact
That though for sleep I yearn,
There’ll come a time when I can rest,
Quite cozy in my urn!

A Bowl of Soup

A bowl of soup can warm your soul,
Fill you up, make you whole.
A bowl of soup can help console –
Just blow and slurp or sip.

No matter if it’s consommé,
Broth or bisque, its bouquet
Will make your troubles float away,
So here’s a little tip:

If chilled or down is how you feel,
Sit right down, make a meal
Of steaming soup, for it’s ideal
To cause that mood to flip.

Just dip your spoon and in a while,
Warmth will soon make you smile;
For soup is never out of style,
As long as you don’t drip!

Plumage

Peacocks always strut about
In all their cobalt splendor;
While peahens, on the other hand,
Get ripped off for their gender.

Many birds do follow suit –
The males get all the frills;
While females’ feathers, drab and brown,
Don’t offer many thrills.
  

As humans go, the opposite
Is usually the case;
For sparkling jewels and colors bright
The female does embrace.

Except in New York City, where
We’ve set the species back,
Since most stylish New York women
Like to keep their plumage black!

(This poem appeared in Metropolitan Diary
of The New York Times on November 21, 2011)

Under the Plastic

I just bought a kitchen timer
Sealed inside a plastic shell.
When I tried to get it open,
I did not fare very well.

First I slit it with a steak knife
But I didn’t get too far.
If I sliced my hand instead,
I’d probably end up with a scar.

So I then switched to a scissor
Thinking it would cut right through,
But I really had to struggle
As frustration grew and grew.

Next I grabbed two jagged edges
And I ripped the thing apart;
By this time I’m sure my blood pressure
Was soaring off the chart.

Surely there must be some packaging
Requiring less drastic
Measures to uncover what is waiting
Underneath the plastic.

For I’m sure I’m not the only one
Whose struggles to unseal
Something factory-made in China
Turn into a real ordeal.

What we sacrifice for cleanness
And to stop a thief from theft
Leaves the rest of us consumers
With not one nerve that is left!

Inside Out

Once I wore shorts that
Did not reach my knees;
Now in hot weather,
I stick to Capris.

Skin that was supple
And tight as a drum,
Now seems to sag
At the age I've become.

Wrinkles crop up where
There were none before;
Each day I notice
I've sprouted some more.

Still, I get dressed and
Put on a brave face,
Under which hides
My young self, just a trace.

I guess as we age
We protect what we know,
That inside, we're the same
As we were long ago.

Beach Parade

On the beach in a sunny clime
I'm watching the parade,
Shocked to see a host of butt cheeks
Gutsily displayed.

Women of all ages strut
In bathing suits so tiny,
You cannot avoid a look
At someone's jiggling heiny.

Menfolk, on the other hand,
March by without their shirts,
Hairy bellies hanging out -
Just looking at them hurts.

With all the flesh that's there on view,
A horror show in motion,
I try to turn the other cheek
And stare out at the ocean.

Pumpkin Ice Cream

An ice cream that I really love
Comes out just once a year.
You have to take advantage
'Cause it soon will disappear.

It's pumpkin and it's really yum,
But let me make this clear -
It doesn't taste like pumpkin pie
Or even pumpkin beer.

I like those, too, but neither one
Would make me stand and cheer,
For only pumpkin ice cream
Gets my taste buds all in gear.

Most other months to coffee
Or to raspberry I'd steer,
But in the fall I'm thrilled
When pumpkin ice cream does appear.

As winter time approaches
It will all be gone, I fear;
So indulge if you can find it
Or you'll wait another year.

What Once Was

You used to have to lick a stamp
Or else it wouldn’t stick;
And if you didn’t wind your watch,
Of course it wouldn’t tick.

At one time when you watched TV
You couldn’t change the station,
Unless you got up from the couch
And caused a knob rotation.

The oven wouldn’t work unless
You lit it with a match;
And pasta wasn’t in a box –
You made the dough from scratch.

The freezer needed boiling pots
Of water to defrost;
And roller skates were useless if
Your skate key wound up lost.

As years go by and things improve,
It’s easy to forget
The way that life once used to be
And could be that way yet.

But progress marches on and so
Nostalgia finds its place,
Reminding us that what once was
Has slipped from our embrace.

A Piano at a Party

A piano at a party
And a person who can play
Add as much to the festivities
As sunshine does to day.

Toss a singer in the mixture,
One who knows the words by heart,
And you’ve found a way to make that party
Really stand apart.

For before too long, some others
Will be drawn in by the song,
And more voices will be added
As the evening rolls along.

There is nothing more uplifting
Than good music folks can sing;
All you need’s a piano player
And the joy that he can bring.

Half-Price

With Thanksgiving one day over,
I was shopping in a store;
Had to fill up on some groceries,
A necessary chore.


I was looking for some muffins
Or perhaps a coffee cake,
When I saw a Half-Price sign
Which I assumed was a mistake.


It wasn't, though, because the cakes
And cupcakes on display
All had messages in icing
Saying, "Happy Gobble Day."


In bold oranges and yellows,
Iced-on turkeys were ideal,
Meant to decorate the table
At someone's Thanksgiving meal.


Yet these leftovers were sitting,
Looking lonely and bereft,
'Cause of all the baked selections,
Somehow they alone were left.


For half-off someone will buy them
Though Thanksgiving Day's no more;
But I walked on by, determined
That this discount I'd ignore.


'Cause the holiday is over
And though leftovers are fine,
Buying supermarket rejects
Somehow seems to cross the line.

A Bulldog Looked At Me

I passed a bulldog on the street;
He strutted with his master.
His pace was fairly slow, I thought,
Since I was walking faster.

But as our paths crossed, suddenly,
He stopped and gave a look.
I gazed right back and our eyes locked –
One look is all it took.

He wouldn’t budge – his owner tugged;
What spell had he come under?
And all I thought was why’s he staring?
I was filled with wonder.

One final tug, he turned around
And left without delay.
I guess I’ll never know just why
He looked at me that way.