Hats On!

English women love their hats,
From commoner to Queen;
If you watched William’s wedding,
Then you know just what I mean.

From wild and wacky to sedate,
The headgear called attention;
Most were classy - stylish, too,
And some defied convention.

The Queen was garbed in yellow,
With her hat a matching hue;
Camilla’s was humongous,
Partly hiding her from view.

Some chapeaus were feathery
And warn with jaunty flair.
Others tried to make their wearers
Seem quite debonair.

Princess sisters looked a sight;
One’s hat resembled snakes.
Maybe when they see the pics,
They’ll realize their mistakes.

Still, many hats were wonderful
And made me want to wear one.
If I lived in England, why,
I’d likely have a spare one.

A British mum with daughter
Would be wise if she’d instill in her
The skills and knowledge it would take
To one day be a milliner!

Royal Wedding

There’s not a thing in history
(Excluding a beheading)
That gets one’s knickers in a knot
Quite like a royal wedding.

We all remember watching as
Diana claimed her prince.
No spectacle’s come close
And we’ve been waiting ever since.

The wait is over, for today
Prince William will be wed;
And millions, normally asleep,
Will watch the pomp instead.

This televised event has reached
The level of obsession.
You needn’t be an Anglophile
To follow the procession.

I’m sure that many commoners,
So sad to see Will marry,
Are wondering what they can do
To get their hooks in Harry.

If one should e’er succeed,
Historians would be in knots;
Three commoners all in a row –
Elizabeth would plotz!

But that may never happen
Or be years and years away.
Let’s put that thought aside and focus
On today’s display.

For this extravaganza
Makes us feel that we’re attending.
I hope this time the fairy tale
Provides a happy ending.

The Proof

Obama’s not an alien.
We’ve finally got the proof;
And anyone who doubted it
Should just admit his goof.

So many people did believe
Each rumor was a fact;
And idiots presented lies
With very little tact.

They claimed he’s not American
And should have been rejected
From holding higher office,
Even though he was elected.

He’s also called a Muslim,
Though that statement’s been denied.
The truth is not enough to keep
Some people satisfied.

A birth certificate’s been found
So now we can relax;
And Trump and all his cronies
Should just stop with their attacks.

Unfortunately, they still have
A leader to besmirch.
They’ll try to track Obama to
A mosque and not a church.

Perhaps when that does not occur,
They’ll finally admit
Their theories didn’t hold
And yes, Obama is legit.

Hair Apparent

When Bush was president (the son),
I hated when he spoke.
His singsong intonations
And his grin would both provoke.

I like a president who,
When he states his views aloud,
Commands respect and makes me feel
American and proud.

He should look presidential, too –
Obama’s got that nailed;
And Clinton had that going
‘Til he got himself derailed.

And that is why I’m mystified
To hear of the intent
Of somebody I can’t believe
Might run for president.

He’s very famous and, of course,
He’s quite the millionaire;
But how could anybody vote
For someone with that hair?

If heads of state convened
With tough decisions to help shape,
They’d not accomplish anything –
Just stand around and gape.

I hope he doesn’t run,
Although I'm pretty sure he’d lose;
‘Cause Donald Trump for president
Would really be bad news.

You shouldn’t judge somebody
By appearance, but I swear,
We cannot have a leader
With such foolish looking hair!

Warranty

An appliance has a warranty,
Right there in black and white.
You can get your money back
If it won’t work just right.

And purchasing a car provides
Assurance in two styles –
It’s guaranteed for either months
Or, which comes first, in miles.

The human body does not have
A paper that imparts
The promise of the life imbued
In all its many parts.

So sometimes organs need repair,
Especially with age;
And when such breakdowns happen,
It is very hard to gauge.

Your heart may suddenly decide
It’s thumped its final beat;
Or possibly, your knees get bored
With holding up your feet.

Your retina may think it’s time
For it to just detach;
And maybe hidden cancer cells
Wake up and start to hatch.

Sections of your brain may feel
They’re kind of overloaded.
Liver, kidneys, pancreas
May start to look corroded.

Symptoms warn us, sort of like
That dread check-engine light;
Then we must take action
To bring order back from blight.

Just think of how much easier
And calm our lives would be,
If, with our birth certificates,
We got a warranty!

If I...

If I were a different person,
I’d give up a lot of my cursin’.
My prospects would brighten, not worsen;
If I were a different soul.

If I had a penchant for money,
I’d subsist on quenelles cooked with honey.
My oceanfront view would be sunny;
If I had a different goal.

If I had a talent for fashion,
I’d have closets to stash all my cache in.
Top designers would worship my passion;
If I played a different role.

But all this conjecture is crazy.
It’s not that I’m careless or lazy;
An orchid won’t sprout from a daisy –
I know what’s beyond my control.

I accept that my limits arrest me;
If I didn’t they may have distressed me.
Still I try to put forward my best me;
And I hope there’s enough to extol.

Easter Bonnet Sonnet

A soggy Easter bonnet,
On a gloomy, rainy day,
May have lots of frills upon it
But they won’t remain that way.

Whether made of straw or linen,
Rain will flatten and destroy,
Leaving wearers less than grinnin’,
Quite devoid of Easter joy.

Still, perhaps a gracious fella
Will appear to save the day
With a sturdy big umbrella
To keep all that rain at bay.

That will save the Easter bonnet
And bring closure to this sonnet.

Lotto

Saw a doorman on a break -
He was smoking - big mistake!
"Fools do this" might be his motto -
He was also playing Lotto.

Smoking's known as bad for health,
But Lotto makes one yearn for wealth.
Sad to say, though hope it fuels,
It strikes me as a game for fools.

People spend more than they should,
With dreams that winning really would
Improve their lives and so they choose
To squander all their revenues.

They rarely win and have to cope
With dwindling cash, all lost to hope.
It would be better, it would seem,
To keep their dough and change their dream.

Earth Day

For this Earth Day, we should bake
A very special Earth Day cake.
Scour every town and county
On the hunt for Nature’s bounty.

We can layer piles of dirt;
Some mud or mire wouldn’t hurt.
Decorate with grass and sedge;
Stick some willows ‘round the edge.

Fill each tier with leaves and shoots
And don’t forget assorted fruits –
Peaches, cherries, mangos, guava;
Frosting could be made of lava.

Sprinkle with a coat of hail;
Add a garden worm or snail.
Place it on a tree bark platter;
Wipe up any dripping batter.

Light the candles – time for song.
Happy Earth Day! Sing it strong.
Nature gets the biggest slice;
Leave the rest for bugs or mice.

After all, this day should feature
Treats for every living creature.
Hopefully, if people try,
The earth will last as years go by.

Certified Pre-Owned

Attention, all you gents and ladies:
Hurry - here’s your chance
To get your very own Mercedes;
See how it enchants!

Take a look – it’s sleek, not bruised;
Its body we have honed.
Who told you that this car was used?
It’s certified pre-owned!

Of course those terms are not the same!
They’re mutually exclusive.
Being “used” connotes some shame,
While “pre-owned” is elusive.

I guess it means it was possessed
By someone very rich
Who, though he really liked it best,
Was forced to make a switch.

So here it is, for you to buy.
You’ll join the true elite;
And that is why the price is high –
Our salesmen are discreet.

You’ll feel so special when you drive
This car that’s almost new.
The envious will all contrive
To be as cool as you!

Grete Waitz

I once saw Grete Waitz run by
At New York’s mile 18.
Her legs were streaked with mud
And yet she made it seem routine.

I later learned it wasn’t mud –
She’s had the runs while racing;
And yet she didn’t care about
The cameras she was facing.

She won that race and many more –
We all admired her pluck;
And yesterday we sadly heard
She’d used up all her luck.

Gone at fifty-seven;
She will always top the charts
As our favorite marathoner
Who forever stole our hearts.

Everyone remembers
When she ran with Fred LeBow;
She supported him for hours
At a pace, for her, too slow.

That isn’t urban legend –
It’s a Grete Waitzish fact.
New York is saddened by her death –
She was a true class act.

Another Chapter

My dear friend’s daughter just announced
The news that she’s expecting.
“Another chapter will begin,”
My friend proclaimed, reflecting.

We’d met when both our children were
Just several months of age;
And with some other brand-new moms,
We’ve welcomed each new stage.

Our babies learned to sit and crawl,
Then toddle, talk and run.
We never thought our trip
To being grandmas had begun.

The children started school and camp;
Some siblings did appear.
As time marched on we shared the joys
And sorrows of each year.

We danced at the bar mitzvahs,
Followed college applications;
Delighted in accomplishments
And cheered at graduations.

A few got married and we glowed
At each once-baby’s wedding.
We shouldn’t be astonished, then,
At where this all was heading.

Yet still, it caught us by surprise –
A grandma soon-to-be!
If it could happen to my friend,
It might one day be me.

One chapter ends but we read on –
The future’s hard to gauge;
But I will follow as my friend
Turns to another page.

Seder Prep

If you want to host a Seder,
You had better be aware
Of the hundred little chores to do
In order to prepare.

I’m not discussing Orthodox –
No searching with a feather –
Just the basic things that must be done
Before you get together.

It doesn’t really matter
If you’re having 5 or 20;
The preparation is the same
And man, there sure is plenty!

Of course, you have to shop and clean –
Those chores you cannot shirk –
But once you’re in the kitchen,
It is time to get to work.

Boil the eggs, form matzo balls,
Then make your chicken soup;
Add some extra carrots –
That part’s done in one fell swoop.

Open up your jar of fish
And shove those carrots in.
It won’t taste like your grandma’s,
But will look just like its twin.

Chop your apples, add some nuts
And wine to make charoses.
Steal a sip of wine – it’s good
To calm down your neurosis.

Time to make the brisket
And the kugel and the chicken.
Think of all you’ve got to do
And feel your heartbeat quicken.

Veggies have to be prepared
And matzo wrapped and ready.
Fill the glasses up with wine –
Don’t drip – keep nice and steady.

Find the Seder plate and place
The foods in an array;
With roasted egg and bitter herbs,
It’s quite a fine display.

What about the baking?
Favorite recipes appear –
The farfel cookies and the brownies
Made just once a year.

The coffee pot is set to go
Before you even sit.
You can’t relax at all –
It really wouldn’t be legit.

And yet, when all is said and done,
Exhaustion set aside,
You look at your accomplishments
And feel quite satisfied.

You’ve organized a Seder
With your family gathered near;
And all your work is over
‘Til it rolls around next year!

Ilene Bauer
April 18, 2011

P.S. I really must admit
My husband helped with all of it!

Making the Grade

Restaurants have ratings now;
They’re mostly A’s or B’s.
Eating in a C or worse,
You might catch a disease.

When eating out, I never think
About the kitchen’s state;
‘Cause if I did, I might regret
The food that I just ate.

If restaurants have a sign that says
“Grade Pending,” then you know
They want a better grade but they
Still have a ways to go.

The only place I ever saw
That did display a C
Was a Chinese take-out and that grade
Encouraged me to flee.

I’d had their noodles many times
When Chinese food I’d sought,
But noticing that C on view
Provided food for thought.

Since restaurants are well aware
Inspectors will patrol,
They’d better clean their kitchens up
And make the honor roll.

A C will scare the customers
The minute that they spot it.
From that point on, they’re wondering
Just why the restaurant got it.

And thoughts like those I will reserve
For quite another poem;
‘Cause if you’d think about it,
You would choose to eat at home!

O - O - O

Here was a quandary when I was a kid –
(My mood would determine which one that I did.)
Eat your Turkish taffy when real fresh, soft and new
And enjoy the way it stretches as you chew and chew and chew

Or stick it in the freezer and hold off to attack it
Until you are able to smack it and crack it.
The commercials did encourage that you choose the freezer path
Or your teeth and gums would be too sticky in the aftermath.

But my preference, especially if banana was my pick,
Was to savor it real soft and stretchy so it had to stick.
It took forever ‘til each speck was yanked from in your teeth
And the dentist probably found a few still hiding underneath.

The innocence of youth – when we could really agonize
Over Turkish taffy – now I long for problems of that size!

Auto Envy

Helen Druce’s parents
Had a Chevy, pink and black.
That car had the pizzazz
Our Plymouth certainly did lack.

It must have been a special order
(Ours was boring gray)
And it stood out back then
Just like it would have done today.

No matter what the year –
If it’s the 50’s or right now,
A car that’s painted pink and black’s
Entitled to a Wow!

Even with a daughter’s wiles,
I couldn’t coax my dad
To buy a car more glamorous –
He liked the car he had.

So, enviously I would watch
As Helen drove away,
Ensconced in coolness
In her ’57 Chevrolet.

The years have come and gone
And childhood fantasies forgiven,
Yet never once have I come close,
In all the cars I’ve driven,

To that captivating classic
That the 50’s did produce –
A Chevy, pink and black
Owned not by me, but Helen Druce!

At a Billy Collins Reading

Billy Collins read his poems
And we all sat there, rapt.
Not everybody has those words
Just waiting to be tapped.

His poetry provides the rungs
So happenings mundane
Can climb a ladder, bringing them
To quite a different plane.

An ordinary thought
Would come to naught in many hands;
Yet Billy Collins molds it
With the magic he commands.

I wonder if the audience
Got sucked into believing
That poems like his are easy –
Their simplicity’s deceiving.

‘Cause anyone who tries to write
Arrives at one conclusion –
What looks to be a breeze
Is often simply an illusion.

I paid attention to his thoughts of flow
And then revision;
It made me realize he would view
My poems with some derision.

Yet one thing struck me as I listened,
Though this may not show it –
Just like Billy Collins,
I can call myself a poet.

Typecast

In junior high, I learned to type –
I visualize the room;
Typewriters lined up in rows
Is what you would assume.

That is correct, although one detail
Isn’t what you’d think –
Among the gray or black machines,
One stood out – it was pink.

Another one was turquoise –
All the rest were rather plain.
I’d always try to claim a color,
Usually in vain.

We’d strike the keys to practice speed –
F – G – F – G – F – G;
But looking up, that turquoise
Was the only thing I’d see.

I’d envy anyone who had
The turquoise or the pink.
Occasionally, I’d get one
And my world would be in sync.

I read an article last week
That typewriters are back,
Younger folks discovering
The joys of clack clack clack.

I’d love to have my own –
It would connect that early link;
But only if I’d find one
Colored turquoise or hot pink.

Let me know if you should hear
That one still does exist;
I’ll be typing queen again,
Just like I reminisced.

Cold Drings

I passed an outdoor coffee cart
Which advertised its wares,
And one thing that was listed
Should have garnered many stares.

Among the donuts, pastries
And the joy each item brings,
There also was hot coffee sold
And there it was – cold drings!

I’m sure that English couldn’t be
The vendor’s native tongue;
Yet someone should have edited
Before that sign was hung.

A simple spell-check would have helped
Before applying inks;
So customers, instead of drings
Would choose to order drinks.

Perhaps nobody noticed
Or they’ve chosen not to tell;
The news might be embarrassing –
It’s probably just as well.

But if I were the vendor
And my cart had a misspelling,
I’d give a cold dring, gratis,
To the one who did the telling!

Watching Over You

Forgot to move the car in time –
In New York, that’s not cricket;
But I was blown away to find
I didn’t get a ticket.

The sign said that you couldn’t park
Beginning nine o’clock.
At ten, I raced right over
And received my welcome shock.

A fellow driver saw my face
And he knew my snafu.
He shook his head and said,
“Somebody’s watching over you.”

As soon as I got in the car,
The ticket lady came.
Just one more minute later,
I’d have just myself to blame.

I thank the stars above that I
Avoided getting nailed;
But I don’t think somebody watching
Is why I prevailed.

No matter what the reason,
Be it shallow or profound,
If somebody is watching,
Then I hope he sticks around!

"Become Your Dream"

“Become your dream” is written
On the sidewalks, done in chalk.
Most people step right over it –
They do not stop to gawk.

In fact, I’m sure that very few
Give it a second thought;
But some do ponder what it means,
Just what the writer sought.

The artist, De La Vega,
Which is how he signs his name,
Is challenging complacency –
I guess that is his aim.

Whatever is his motive
In this sidewalk chalking scheme,
He’s throwing down the gauntlet –
How does one “become your dream?”

It’s not exactly easy
To make fantasy come true.
Perhaps, dear De La Vega,
You could leave a little clue.

Until that time, I’ll keep an eye
For all your sidewalk art.
I haven’t quite become my dream,
But looking is a start.

Averted

The government’s not shutting down;
That’s really a relief.
It would have caused some folks’ vacations
To be rather brief.

Imagine planning for a year
To visit the Grand Canyon.
Instead, you’re stuck outside the gate
With family or companion.

“The Canyon’s closed,” you would be told.
“The government’s on strike.”
And you could argue, ‘cause they couldn’t say –
“Go take a hike!”

‘Cause that is what you’d hoped to do,
Plus gaze and gape and gawk;
Instead, you’d have to turn around
As Congress tried to talk.

The worst I heard, though, if they’d shut,
Could almost make you laugh –
The Congressmen would get full pay,
But soldiers only half!

Thank goodness that this crisis has
Been suddenly averted,
‘Cause shutting down the nation’s parks
Seems totally perverted!

Exit the Chancellor

Cathie Black’s not coming back;
They say that she resigned.
She left so soon she didn’t leave
A legacy behind.

Appointed just three months ago
As Mayor Bloomberg’s choice,
Her leaving’s caused most teachers
To applaud and, yes, rejoice.

The chancellor should be well ensconced
In public education;
Someone from the trenches
Who’s had years of preparation.

Bloomberg didn’t listen
To his critics or detractors.
He insisted Black was fine
Despite some missing factors:

No knowledge of the public schools,
Ed. credits or degree;
Instead of one experienced,
We got a pedigree.

Executives we do not need
To manage New York’s schools.
Sometimes leadership is more
Than memorizing rules.

The mayor finally saw the light;
I’m sure he spent time stressin’.
Perhaps he’ll trust the teachers now –
If he has learned his lesson.

Acquiring Art

Buying some art to hang up on a wall
Does require some courage and daring.
You have to be sure that you love it enough
It won’t cause you regret or despairing.

If you choose with your heart, disregarding your head,
You’ll forgive yourself after a while;
‘Cause each time that you look at the purchase you’ve made,
It will, hopefully, bring forth a smile.

I don’t buy art too often – my walls are all full;
But when something just grabs me and yanks,
I will sometimes give in and when it’s hanging up,
Every time I walk by, I’ll give thanks.

What’s amazing to me is how one person’s choice
Of a painting or sculpture or rug
May be viewed by another, no matter how close,
With a frown or a sneer or a shrug.

Taste is so private it can’t be explained
‘Cause it comes from a place deep inside;
If your gut’s saying no you won’t get it to change –
Doesn’t matter how hard you have tried.

So acquiring art should require no thoughts
Or opinions that should be discussed;
Just lead with your heart and your soul and you’ll find
The approval you know you can trust.

Smile in the Sky

A smile was hanging in the sky
When I glanced up last night.
It seemed so like the Cheshire cat,
It filled me with delight.

I rarely see a moon like that
Back east, where I reside;
And if I said I didn't care,
You'd know that I had lied.

For how could anyone not love
A sky that holds a smile?
Few sights that Nature tosses out
Can really so beguile.

I think it was a waxing moon,
So soon it will grow large;
But it would stay a smile forever
If I were in charge.

Cacti

Nature cleverly provides
Each creature with protection -
Teeth or claws or brains or strength;
It's fodder for reflection.

Plants have means as well to keep
Their enemies at bay.
The cactus, for example,snarls,
You'd better stay away!

No matter what the shape or size,
Each cactus, like a knight,
Has armor in the guise of spikes,
Prepared to jab and fight.

Some thornish spears don't look so sharp
But do not be deceived;
If man or beast should venture close,
He'd surely be aggrieved.

Sneaky succulents they are, though -
They possess the power
To lure an unsuspecting soul
By sprouting quite a flower.

Such gorgeous blossoms' vibrant hues
Attract and then bequeath
Some pain to victims who forgot
There's danger underneath.

We must admire cacti.
They defend and then survive;
In unforgiving places
They do more than live - they thrive.

On a Pink Jeep Tour

Climb aboard and click your belt;
Your guide is set to drive.
Then off you go, just hoping that
You'll make it back alive.

I totally expected
To be petrified, at least;
Instead I just had so much fun,
All worries quickly ceased.

Our leader, David, bounced us
Up on rocks that were so steep,
They seemed impossible to scale -
Except in a pink jeep.

And as we climbed, each vista was
More gorgeous than the last.
To me, this landscape's beauty
Cannot really be surpassed.

Our guide, so fearless and laid back
Was filled with lots of facts;
His charming personality
Made everyone relax.

He posed us in the perfect spots
For photos so amazing,
Our smiles are proof of our sheer joy
At where our eyes were gazing.

I've heard about these tours before
But didn't understand
That I could be transported to
The heart of Red Rocks land.

And man, that heart is beating -
It's spectacular and strong.
Was this the highlight of my trip?
Say no - and you'd be wrong!

Birthday Time

A tree trunk adds another ring;
Some wines gain more cachet.
Medicines inch toward the date
They must be thrown away.

Humans love to celebrate
As each year flutters past,
Especially since we don't know
How long the ride might last.

We cannot ever quite believe -
It's hard to really gauge -
The mirror, though, confirms that yes,
We really are this age!

Today's my birthday - like a tree,
I've got a brand new ring;
A necklace, too, and time ahead
To proudly flaunt my bling.

I'm in a gorgeous setting,
My husband by my side.
Today will be as special as
The heavens can provide.

I'll speak by phone to loved ones
And enjoy a yummy meal.
It's birthday time and happy is
Exactly how I feel.

I check out my reflection -
Yes, this aging hardly flatters;
But I'm alive and kicking and
That's all that really matters!

The Grand Canyon

Grand is insufficient
For the grandeur it exudes;
Yet so is every adjective
Whose power it denudes.

Everybody's seen it
From a camera's point of view;
But expectations don't compare
When it's in front of you.

The vastness and the colors
Simply cannot be described;
Inside you feel such calm
Like an elixir you've imbibed.

'Cause what the pictures don't convey
Is what was most surprising -
A stillness and a peace profound
Not found in advertising.

Just being there reminds us
That to Nature we succumb;
A banquet's on display
And each of us is but a crumb.

Breakfast on the Terrace

Every morning should begin
With chirps and Nature's twitter.
Sometimes it's the simple things
That sparkle, gleam and glitter.

I'm a city person, but
I've always known I've pined
For breakfast on the terrace
Leaving urban stress behind.

With such a smooth beginning,
I can tackle what life deals.
Of course, that's just a fantasy,
But that is how it feels.

Just gazing at the mountains
And listening to the birds,
I feel a calm so deep
I cannot put it into words.