Stolen

Some arts group scattered pianos
In a bunch of city parks,
Imagining their presence
Would inspire creative sparks.

I saw one in my neighborhood
And loved that it was there;
One day a toddler banged the keys
With joy and lots of flair.

Today, though, I heard on the news
One piano has gone missing.
Just like in silent movies,
This is where we should be hissing.

Because a low-life criminal,
With conscience like a snake,
Decided that the instrument
Was there for him to take.

Depriving others of the music
Waiting to be played,
Would not occur to such a thief
Who made the choice he made.

I hope that piano gets revenge
And every time that goon
Sits down to touch those ivories,
The notes are out of tune!

On the Water

Sailboat, tugboat, ferry, barge,
Sunfish, tanker, small or large,
Ply the waters way downtown;
Watching them, it’s hard to frown.

How they chug and bounce and glide!
A sight most people take in stride;
But as for me, I can’t begin
To squelch a most delighted grin.

The waterways, with lovely views,
Shine so much more than avenues.
To city dwellers, their allure
Is access to a distant shore.

So on the land, I watch them pass,
Admiring their style and sass.
Commuters, if they had that vote,
I’m sure would choose to go by boat!

Where You Are

Two planes are flying overhead –
One heading left, one right.
I think about the passengers
On each respective flight.

Some are traveling for work,
Some are on vacation.
Every trip can’t merit
Burbles of anticipation.

So sitting here upon the ground
And following those planes,
One shouldn’t feel too envious -
For losses follow gains.

Imagining the paradise
Those planes are flying towards
Won’t get you any closer
To start claiming those rewards.

And possibly some passengers
Would jump off if they could.
Wishing you were someplace else
Won’t do you any good.

‘Cause where you are is just the place
You happen to be in.
Accepting that is how you let
Your happiness begin.

Good Enough

In the city, I don’t have
A terrace or a yard.
I’m envious of those who have
Been blessed in that regard.

But if I want to feel the breeze
In quiet contemplation,
I walk down to the river
For a bit of relaxation.

I plunk myself upon a bench.
The river flows below;
And watch the boats go chugging by,
To where I do not know.

Behind me, bicyclists whiz past
Or joggers, keeping pace;
But I’m content just sitting
With the wind upon my face.

It isn’t private – I must share
My view, my bench, my tree;
But like so many things in life,
It’s good enough for me.

A Trill

A throaty bird showed off his skill:
He sang his song – it was a trill.
His warble was a little gem;
Too bad that it was 4 AM!

New Law

New York just passed a brand-new law
So same-sex folks can wed.
Perhaps some other states
Will see the light and forge ahead.

The one you choose to marry
Should be totally your choice.
For gays and lesbians, this is
A moment to rejoice.

But all of us should share their glee;
The law should have no right
To stop the joining of two people
Love has helped unite.

I’m proud as a New Yorker
That this bill we did endorse.
Now gays can join in matrimony –
Also, in divorce!

Caged

A man sat on a park bench
With a parrot in a cage.
I tried to tell if he was nuts,
But couldn’t really gauge.

I wondered if that bird enjoyed
The different air outside
Or if it made him more aware
Of what he’s been denied.

The pigeons seemed to stay away;
I guess somehow they knew
That parrot wasn’t joining them
When they got up and flew.

Each passerby stared at the cage
Amused, confused or rapt;
But I felt sorry for that bird
So close to freedom, trapped.

Advice

The hygienist had advice
That covered more than flossing;
She tossed it out, just like
A shuttlecock that she was tossing.

To get through life you must take care
Of what is fundamental –
Consisting of the physical,
The mental and the dental.

I chuckled ‘cause it seemed absurd
But after some reflection,
I think that her advice could steer
One in the right direction.

If we all paid attention
To our bodies and our teeth,
Perhaps our minds could free the angst
Our brains love to bequeath.

When guidance comes unprompted
Often I can be judgmental;
But there is wisdom in advice
That seems so elemental.

To live successfully, you have to
Nurture every part –
The brain, the teeth, the arms and legs,
The skin, the hair, the heart.

Ignoring any one of them
Might turn out detrimental;
So take the time to nourish
Body, brain and all things dental!

One Performance

One performance makes a play,
No matter how the rest is.
Oftentimes the biggest names
Will realize who the best is.

The writing may suffer, direction might stink
But someone may rise way above it;
Then, though the production is boring and dull,
You’ll tell everybody you love it.

For all that it takes is an actor so good
You’re convinced he or she is quite real;
Then you’re riveted as the performance unfolds
And you’re shocked at the feelings you feel.

It’s not universal, it’s really unique
To be witness to brilliance on stage;
‘Cause most actors, though doing a credible job,
Don’t grab onto your heart to engage.

So if ever you happen to take in a show
And you catch a performer so great,
Just soak up the magic and clap ‘til you drop
For it’s rare to have that on your plate.

(dedicated to Edie Falco)

Official

It’s official – summer’s here,
So turn on the A/C.
Get ready for the sweat to roll
From high humidity.

Some people like the lighter clothes –
The tank tops and the shorts.
They also love the longer days
And all those outdoor sports.

I guess some summer comforts
Are attractive, I agree:
But mugginess and perspiration
Don’t appeal to me.

I dread the summer weather
But don’t need a crystal ball
To tell me that in three months’ time,
I’ll gladly welcome fall!

Jet Lag Blues

You’ve been away, but now you’re back
And everything seems out of whack.
You’re more exhausted than you should be
And you wonder what it could be.

Here’s the answer – it’s a drag,
But more than likely, it’s jet lag.
Your body hasn’t readjusted;
Inner senses can’t be trusted.

You’re still stuck in Euro time
While struggling to make a rhyme.
In just a day or two you’ll find
Your symptoms will be left behind.

But ‘til that time, don’t make a peep
Because I will be fast asleep!

Flying

You get to the airport three hours in advance,
And wait with your suitcase in line.
They look at your passport, your bag gets conveyed;
As experiences go, it’s benign.

Then security’s next and the fun really starts:
Take your liquids, computer and shoes
And follow the rules as you pass through the scan
Or you’ll sing those security blues.

They may pat you and poke you in case you might be
A real terrorist hiding a bomb;
And despite your annoyance, you can’t let it show –
You must act very patient and calm.

When you finally get through, claim your bag and your shoes;
Please remember your laptop and belt.
Then you traipse to the gate and there isn’t a seat;
You’re so sweaty and hot you could melt.

You check out the bathroom and splurge on a snack
And at last they announce you can board;
As the crowds surge ahead, you get pushed to the rear,
With your dirty looks simply ignored.

So you walk down the aisle - to the last row, of course;
Stow your bag, settle down and get seated.
If your flight’s not direct, then you realize, alas,
The whole process will soon be repeated.

After endless announcements and many delays,
Take-off happens and you’re in the air.
If you’re lucky, you’ll sleep but if not, time will crawl
And you’ll wonder how long ‘til you’re there.

You may read, watch TV, eat a meal or converse
But you’re trying quite hard not to think
That you’re trapped many thousands of miles in the sky –
‘Cause that fact may bring you to the brink.

After hours aloft and some really bad food
And a couple of trips to the john,
You will find yourself back on the ground and you know
Soon the bad memories will be gone.

For the next time you fly, you’ll put up with it all;
Just like childbirth, the pain is forsaken.
That’s a positive thing, ‘cause if that weren’t so,
One flight’s all anyone would have taken!

Blue Ceramic

The last day of vacation,
I hadn't bought a thing -
Not one small item for myself
Or gifts I had to bring.


A final stroll throughout the town
And something caught my eye -
A gorgeous blue ceramic fish;
I couldn't pass him by.


He wasn't like the tons of other
Pottery I'd spotted.
His face was very introspective
And I was besotted.


The price was high - I walked away
But later, I walked back.
I saw the owner take him down
And thought my heart would crack.


But no, he wasn't being sold;
It was a mid-day break.
The store was set to close
Yet I could make up my mistake.


I raced inside, the owner smiled
And so I got my wish;
He dropped the price and bubble-wrapped
My blue ceramic fish.


I can't wait 'til I get him home -
He's art and souvenir;
And he'll remind me of the
Lovely time that I've had here.


(written in Maoiri, Italy)

Buffalo Gals

Today I met some buffalo
Who give us lovely cheese.
They munched away contentedly,
Without an aim to please.


Their fur was shaggy, horns were long;
Their smell was rather funky.
Each young one stood and stared at us,
Just like some caged-in monkey.


We watched the way the cheese is made.
It's messy and looked tiring.
The mozzarella sold in the store
Deserves some more admiring.


When lunch was served, we got to taste
The cheese those beasts produced.
It was so fresh, I think it gave
Cholesterol a boost.


It isn't often that you get
To eat food from its source.
It was the norm quite long ago;
They had no choice, of course.


But nowadays it's very rare
To have a chance to meet
The animal who gave the milk
Providing cheese to eat.


So thank you, all you long-horned gals;
The world is in your debt.
I eat your cheese and I am glad
That we have finally met!

Cooking Class

My group went to a cooking class.
It took place in Ravello,
A gorgeous mountain town
Which had more wine than Limoncello.


We tied our aprons 'round our waists;
The chef assigned us chores.
We peeled and chopped such vegetables
That you can't find in stores.


The peppers, red and yellow,
Were so dazzling in hue,
Van Gogh would take one look at them
And know what he should do.


The basil and the mint were picked
From garden rows, just brimming;
The fish and calamari
Probably thought they were still swimming.


Tomatoes, eggplant, garlic,oil,
Bread and pasta, natch;
We really did create a feast
And did it all from scratch.


As Chef Vincenzo taught us
We all stirred and sliced and plated;
Then we sat down to eat our meal,
So proud and quite elated.


It was such fun - we bonded well
In pairs and groups and dozens;
From twenty-something strangers
We became like long-lost cousins.


For here in Italy, there's magic
In the very air;
And that translated to the meal
We all helped to prepare.

The Search

When you are traveling about
In unfamiliar places,
You probably experience
What every tourist faces.


No matter if you're in Peru
Or Mexico or France,
You'll have a pressing issue
More important than romance.


I gather you can guess by now -
You needn't be a whiz -
The information that you need
Is where the bathroom is!


I had to pay to use one
On the Isle of Capri;
Although if I had searched
I could have found one that was free.


The tour guide gave us facts and tips
But all we want to know
Is how to find the bathroom
Just in case we have to go.


'Cause if you've gotta go, you do not
Care about the views;
Between a toilet and the sea,
I know which I would choose.


And once your bladder's empty
You can take in all the sights.
Capri was lovely and I did
Enjoy all its delights.

Gelato

Italy has pizza.
Italy has wine;
But Italy has one more thing
Each day I claim as mine.


I'm talking 'bout Gelato,
Smooth and creamy, filled with flavor;
In a cup or on a cone,
It's something that I savor.


I'll try a new one every day,
Variety and seller;
So far each flavor's been as rich
As Gates or Rockefeller.


I've tried the coconut at first;
Pistachio did follow.
The chocolate orange and the coffee
Highlighted each swallow.


New York has ice cream everywhere.
Gelato is sold, too;
But eating it in Italy
Is something one should do.


So when I get back, and you ask
How did I like the food,
I'll answer very honestly;
Don't think I'm being rude.


The food was fine, the wine was good,
But when I won the Lotto,
Was every day when I indulged
In Italy's Gelato!

Seeing Pompeii

We've all heard of Vesuvius
And how it blew its stack.
The people of Pompeii
Were unprepared for the attack.


We've read the history books
And pictured how it all went down;
But finally today, I got to
Walk around that town.


I saw the forum and the stores,
The bakery and bath;
I planted my feet in the ruts
Where chariots cut a path.


I stepped into the brothel rooms
With beds made out of stone;
And saw the people's houses,
Visualizing what they'd own.


Of course the most amazing thing
Was seeing bodies, frozen
Into the most protective pose
That each of them had chosen.


On one man's face, his agony
Was plain as day to see,
He never realized that he would
Be part of history.


Vesuvius remains alive;
It's bound to blow again.
The experts cannot say for sure
And folks all wonder - when?


I hope next time they're more prepared
And no one has to die;
But I am glad I walked the streets
Where Pompeii used to lie.

On the Amalfi Coast

Here I am, exhausted
After two flights and a drive,
Just relaxing on my terrace,
Really glad to be alive.


The sea's stretched out before me,
Terraced hillsides all around;
The patio's bedecked in fuchsia,
Chirping birds abound.


The world I know is miles away.
That's why we choose to travel -
Reality becomes unreal
And ties to it unravel.


It's easy to immerse yourself
In places that seem strange;
Drive the scary mountain roads
And pocket funny change.


Imagine that you lived right here,
A native of the coast -
You'd drive those winding roads
And to the tourists, you'd play host.


Perhaps you'd wistfully indulge,
When looking at their faces,
In yearning to live where they live
And dream of switching places.


The grass may not be greener.
Nobody will guarantee it;
But when I get to travel, well,
At least I get to see it.

Seltzer Bottles

I often pass a window
Near the street where I reside,
And glancing at it, visions of my past
It does provide.

For it contains two seltzer bottles,
Spritzers facing in.
I wonder if my childhood home
Is one place they have been.

For growing up in Brooklyn,
Seltzer bottles we would get,
Delivered in a wooden box,
Along with one U-Bet.

To make a perfect egg cream,
You put U-Bet in a glass.
Your mom said, “Just a little!”
An amount you would surpass.

On top of all that syrup,
You’d add milk, but just a splash.
Then you’d squirt the seltzer in
And mix it in a flash.

Voila! The bubbles burbled as
From bottom up they rose;
And as you sipped, you always got
A tickle on your nose.

The seltzer in the stores now
Doesn’t have that wicked squirt.
If you could taste the difference,
Why, I’m sure you would convert.

So when I see those bottles,
I begin to reminisce;
And seltzer joins the list of things
From childhood that I miss.


(Note: This poem appeared in The New York Times
on Sunday, October 23rd, but has not appeared here before.)

Cuomo's Plan

The governor, to save some dough,
Thought it was time to mention
That he would like a huge reduction
In state workers’ pension.

He’d raise the age, by several years,
For workers to collect it.
Of course, he knows this plan will cause
All unions to reject it.

It’s always been considered lucky
To retire from teaching;
The benefits enticed us all
With goals in easy reaching.

But now the tides have turned and so
There’s not the same allure.
Attracting new blood to the schools
Will suffer, I am sure.

And all the teachers, stuck in place,
May have to stick around.
For many, this will be too much,
A setback quite profound.

I’m happy I got out in time,
Avoiding this huge scare;
But I feel for my colleagues,
For this plan just isn’t fair!

Weather Alert

The weather people use their stage –
The whole kit and caboodle –
To warn us all, repeatedly,
The weather will be brutal.

“You shouldn’t even go outside!”
They caution, sounding dire;
But if you do, bring water
And wear super-light attire.

They’re right, I guess – it’s hot as hell
And prudence must be taken;
Yet sometimes they go overboard
And sometimes they’re mistaken.

I’ll carry water, dress in white,
Stay in the shade, no doubt;
But though I’m now a nervous wreck,
Today I will go out!

Cannes Not

Saw a movie that I hated;
Man, that film was overrated!
Some folks left right in the middle,
Fed up with its nagging riddle.

Cannes bestowed its best award
On this same film which left me bored.
Still, there were amazing actors,
One of its redeeming factors.

There were those, though, in the crowd
Who left the theater, feeling wowed.
Of course, this proves – to each his own;
One man’s rave’s another’s moan.

All Cinephiles should raise a stench –
Such pretense honored by the French!

Politicians Redux

Another politician caught
Admitting he’s a sleaze.
No matter how someone appears,
There are no guarantees.

You may dress up in fancy suits,
Be seen as a contender;
But posing in your underwear,
All hopes you must surrender.

‘Cause nobody will vote for you
On hearing of your gaffe;
And since you lied on top of it,
You’ve cut your dreams in half.

Although you’ve let the voters down,
I’m sorry for your wife.
Such publicized embarrassment
Must cut her like a knife.

New Yorkers need a candidate
Who takes a moral stance
On honesty, fidelity
And keeping on his pants!

To Pop a Pill

If you’re in pain and take a pill,
As most folks aching surely will,
You probably will get relief
Sometimes long-lasting, others brief.

Yet when I think about that pill,
There’s something I can’t fathom still;
It might be Advil or Aleve,
But how’s it know what to relieve?

One tablet works for headache pain,
A swollen knee or shoulder strain.
It helps you if your back is breaking,
Or your wrist is badly aching.

How that pill knows where to go
Is what I’d really like to know.
Our brains must be like a computer,
Acting as a troubleshooter.

So if your pain is in your head,
That pill won’t hit the knee instead;
And if you’ve hurt your lower back,
Some signal keeps it right on track.

How clever is the human brain!
Examining the vast terrain
Inside of us to find the spot
Where we’d prefer that pain is not.

The mind’s a well-oiled slick machine,
Just working magic, so routine.
I’m grateful when I pop a pill
My brain’s equipped with such a skill!

Sparse

I saw a play that’s bound to close;
The audience was sparse.
It had a little comedy
But wasn’t quite a farce.

The theater was quite lovely
And the scenery rang true.
The actors were professional,
Not one in his debut.

The writing wasn’t Pulitzer
But it was entertaining.
For eighty minutes, I was charmed
With no cause for complaining.

The tickets didn’t cost a lot
So I was glad I went;
But critics panned it
As the empty seats made evident.

It’s such a shame to think of
All that energy and time
Invested to put on a show,
Plus some producer’s dime.

And poof! It doesn’t make it;
All that effort spent for naught.
I wonder if the critics
Give their words a second thought.

70

Dylan turned 70 – how could it be?
These times are a’changin’ for more folks than me.
Lennon and Jimi – if they’d still be living
Would also be 70 – death is forgiving.

Next year Aretha, Lou Reed, Carole King
Will all feel how 70 candles can sting.
Two Pauls – both McCartney and Simon, as well,
Will get to the point to toll 70’s knell.

Joan Baez beat her friend Bob to the punch.
Jerry Garcia respected his hunch;
For 70 means more than one touch of grey –
A Grateful Dead corpse won’t let age have its way.

These singers at 70 still sound like gold;
But man, oh man, 70! That just sounds OLD!

Spelling Bee

I’d never heard those words before;
Their meanings were elusive.
To those upon the stage, such facts
Were merely inconclusive.

Derivations made it clear
Which letter groups were needed.
Concentration ruled – distractions
Vanished or receded.

Finalists competed with
Such fierce determination,
Anything but winning
Was a sorry consolation.

Yet gamely each one proved to be
Supportive and connected;
Though rivals, they could empathize
When someone was ejected.

I stayed up past eleven
‘Til the battle was concluded,
Delighting in the quiet joy
The champion exuded.

How wonderful that in this hi-tech
World where we are dwelling,
We still admire those rare souls
Who so excel at spelling!

Dorothy Parker

I read some poems of Dorothy Parker;
Some were light but more were darker.
All ingenious, smart and witty;
Few admitting to self-pity.

Words were so adroit and clever,
Expectations she would sever.
Every poet she’d outshine
And her worst poems outsparkled mine.

A/C

Caved and put the A/C on
Or else I might have melted.
Humidity hurls sweat-balls
And I felt like I’d been pelted.

Among the great inventions,
A/C surely has to rate.
If you have lived without it,
There won’t be a great debate.

It’s lovely feeling comfortable
Instead of drippy-sweating.
I’ll gladly pay Con Edison
To get what I am getting.

To those poor souls who suffer
With no air-conditioning,
I wish that you could join me
Wearing clothes that do not cling!