At the U.S. Open

Went to see some tennis
At the U.S. Open courts.
It’s always such a treat to witness
Any outdoor sports.

It’s quite a different feeling
From what we see on TV.
Just being in the stadium
Was magical to me.

Although you see it all at home
From cameras everywhere,
There’s something quite intangible
You feel by being there.

So if you watched the matches
That were televised today,
Among the cheers and groans that happen
When the players play,

You might have heard my voice or maybe
Seen me in the crowd;
‘Cause I was at the U.S. Open
And I sure was wowed!

Turning Back

Tried to get from A to B,
But didn’t quite succeed.
The odds were stacked against us
And no way could we proceed.

Roads were closed because of floods
And accidents shut others.
We would have continued,
If we only had our druthers.

But being in the car for hours
And crawling or worse, sitting,
Just melted our resolve and so
We had no choice but quitting.

We turned around, went back to A;
Gave up on reaching B.
I guess in life that nothing
Has a fool-proof guarantee.

We’ll try again when floods have gone
And all the roads are fixed,
But ‘til that time, the best laid plans
Have pretty much been nixed.

After the Storm

Life returns to normal,
People head to work;
But below the surface,
Some surprises surely lurk:

Lots of detours on the roads,
Rivers scaling banks;
If your route is trouble-free,
You owe a debt of thanks.

Stranded passengers still wait,
Fighting or resigned;
Canceled plans have left so many
Stuck in quite a bind.

Power outages still rage,
People making do;
Human nature helps us cope
So somehow, we’ll get through.

Still, the sun is shining;
Clean-up has begun.
We’ll deal with the hassles
And attack them, one by one.

Let’s hope we clean up quickly –
Well, as fast as time permits;
‘Cause we need a little breathing room
Before the next storm hits.

The Hurricane

The hurricane has come and gone
And how you fared depended
On where you live or where you were
When Irene’s wrath descended.

If you reside or had been staying
On or near the ocean,
You might have been amazed to see
The sea in roiling motion.

Its crashing waves might possibly
Have damaged your foundation,
Or caused a flood or knocked down trees
Or worse, a combination.

Many people watched in dread,
Preparing by the hour;
But all their caution was in vain
Because they still lost power.

I walked the neighborhood today –
Saw branches strewn around;
And several trees were sliced in half,
Their trunks splayed on the ground.

The promenade was filled with people
Out to check the scene.
It added something spicy
To their usual routine.

With stores and restaurants mostly closed
And nothing status quo,
They strolled along the river’s edge
With no place else to go.

The hurricane is over now,
Its havoc left behind;
And whether we were spared or not,
We have an ax to grind.

Waiting for the Storm

Subways canceled; buses, too.
Cannot visit park or zoo.
Broadway tickets? Outta luck.
Far from home? You might be stuck.

Baseball games not being played.
Flights postponed – at best, delayed.
Museums closed and so are gyms.
In churches, there might not be hymns.

If you’re residing in Zone A,
Evacuate without delay.
For all the rest, have flashlights, please,
‘Cause Con Ed has no guarantees.

Stock yourself with food and drink;
Here we totter, on the brink.
Get supplies or you’ll regret it.
When Irene hits, you won’t sweat it.

Nature loves to throw us curves
And newscasters pump up your nerves.
Still, I’m all set and won’t complain,
Just waiting for the wind and rain.

I wonder, though, if they’re mistaken -
If it’s sunny when we waken?
Experts will say we were spared
Because we were so well-prepared!

Ma'am

At one time strangers called me “Miss,”
But now it’s switched to “Ma’am.”
I guess I must absorb the fact
That “Ma’am” is what I am.

If people offer me a seat
When on a bus or train,
I feel a little bad, but hey –
A seat? I can’t complain.

But somehow, when they call me “Ma’am,”
My blood starts running cold;
‘Cause I gain nothing but the fact
That I am viewed as OLD!

For younger generation folk,
My wise advice is this:
Do women everywhere a favor –
Ditch the “Ma’am” for “Miss!”

Caught!

Got a ticket in the mail
For driving through a light.
Evidence is there so strong,
It doesn’t pay to fight.

There’s our car, the light is red
And we are sailing through;
It was several weeks ago –
I wonder if we knew.

I’m thinking back, but can’t recall
If we accelerated,
Unaware that on a pole,
A hidden camera waited.

It doesn’t really matter now;
That camera law sure sucks.
One moment’s step upon the gas
And we’re out fifty bucks!

Quaking

Surely there was some mistake!
This couldn’t really be a quake!
I know one person – not a joke –
Who thought he’d suffered from a stroke.

But no, the experts did unveil
5.8 upon the Richter scale,
With tremors up and down the coast;
Virginia seemed to get the most.

New Yorkers seemed the most surprised.
We haven’t been familiarized
With quakes like this since ’44,
And this one we could not ignore.

For many, ‘twas a brief distraction,
With surprise the main reaction.
Life returned to normal, fast;
Could-have-been thoughts do not last.

Yet we think of others struck
Who didn’t have our same good luck.
Nothing really quite predicts
How Mother Nature gets her kicks.

Circle Line

I watch the Circle Line glide past,
The passengers on deck;
Binoculars in hand or
At the ready, on the neck.

The tour guide points and tells them
That the mayor lives right there.
I wonder, as I listen,
If the tourists really care.

Some locals, sitting on the benches,
Feel the need to wave.
Some Circle Liners wave right back,
Both getting what they crave.

As they float by, I feel like I’m
A creature at the zoo.
“Oh look – there’s an East Sider,
Doing what East Siders do.”

Then off they sail and here I stay,
Just jotting down my rhyme.
Soon I’ll pack it in and head back home –
It’s almost feeding time!

Comfort Zone

Staying in your comfort zone,
You always feel secure.
Your safety’s never questioned,
Which is part of the allure.

Your comfort zone may be on land,
If you don’t like the sea;
Or in the quiet country
If the city makes you flee.

The folks who cringe at altitude
Seek refuge staying low;
And those who fear the cold avoid
The places that get snow.

Some people never travel
Past their hometown’s local bounds;
For those who love adventure,
That admission quite astounds.

It’s good to know your comfort zone,
Of that I have no doubt;
But sometimes it is worth the risk
To try and venture out.

Asia Grill

A menu made it past my door,
As menus often will,
But this one caught my eye
Because it’s from “New Asia Grill.”

Instead of touting noodles
With a Chinese pedigree,
Or Vietnamese or Japanese,
Its food is from all three!

Have some chicken cooked with lemongrass
Or sushi made with eel;
Perhaps some Moo Shu Pork reflects
The way you really feel.

I wonder if the food’s that good
When choices are spread thin.
I like a Chinese restaurant
When my chow fun mood kicks in.

I’m looking at the menu
But it will not gratify,
‘Cause what I am really craving is
A big plate of Pad Thai!

Al Fresco

Out for dinner – forecast: rain.
Sat outside, a bit insane.
Every outdoor table filled –
People chatted, laughter trilled.

Got our drinks – the sky grew dark;
Weathermen were on the mark.
Soon came thunder, also lightning,
Which was just a little frightening.

Rain came pounding – truth was dawning:
We’d get wet despite the awning.
Waitress helped us move inside;
New Yorkers take these things in stride.

Calamity we did avert.
We drank a Guinness for dessert.
When we departed, rain was light;
It was a lovely Friday night.

The New "New"

An advertisement did proclaim,
As advertisements do,
That when you’re looking for a watch,
Pre-owned is the new “new.”

I guess this does appeal to some,
‘Cause “used” is so taboo;
But if you’re buying Cartier,
Pre-owned might have to do.

The same for Rolex, Breitling,
Vacheron, Patek Philippe;
If that’s the watch you really want,
The new price is quite steep.

But as for me, I’d much prefer
A really brand-new watch
That no one’s ever owned before –
A Skagen or a Swatch.

No matter what the ads announce,
With wording so enthused,
A pre-owned watch means just one thing –
It isn’t new, it’s USED!

A-Rod

Saw A-Rod playing Triple A,
His rehab almost done.
The fans, like paparazzi, flashed
Their cameras, one by one.


He took the field to great applause,
Then errored in the first.
Of all the players, he appeared
Right then to be the worst.


At bat he walked, then walked again,
The third time striking out.
The boos he heard were messing with his head,
Of that's no doubt.


He made another awful play -
How much does this guy earn?
Instead of cheers, he garnered
Even more boos in return.


At last, he hit a beauty
Which earned him an R.B.I.
The crowd erupted, cheering;
After all, he was their guy.


I love to watch a ball game from
A Scranton Yankees seat,
Where the not-quite-major leaguers
And the big shots get to meet.

Sex Ed.

New York is reinstituting
Classes in Sex Ed.,
Yet there are many advocating
Ignorance instead.


Catholic officials
Think it's right that they cajole
Their parishioners to stop their kids
From learning birth control.


Ignorance, though, isn't bliss
When sex is on the table,
'Cause kids are bound to seek it out
As soon as they are able.


It makes more sense, at least to me,
To fill our kids with knowledge
Of everything to do with sex
Before they're off to college.


Religious leaders think they have
A lock on what we need.
Good intentions often backfire, though
And now it's guaranteed!

Diana Nyad

Diana Nyad tried to swim
More than a hundred miles
In shark-infested waters
(Though there were no crocodiles).

She claimed her motivation
Was her age, near sixty-two,
To prove to all the world just what
Someone her age could do.

“Sixty’s the new forty”
Was the quote reporters noted.
It was said to be encouraging;
It wasn’t that she gloated.

Diana didn’t make her goal –
Both asthma and her shoulder
Did combine to prove too daunting,
Possibly because she’s older.

Yet her swim was still inspiring
And we heard her battle cry:
No matter what your age,
Never give up – get out and try!

SVU Lite

NBC, you’re really whack
To think we will forgive
SVU without the perfect team
Of Elliot and Liv.

So many of the SVU fans
Watch repeats galore;
And really, can’t you comprehend
What we are watching for?

Man, it’s Benson and it’s Stabler!
Without them, the show can’t be.
No one’s tuning in for Tunie,
Richard Belzer or Ice-T.

So listen, NBC, take heed –
You’ve made some foolish plans.
SVU without Meloni
And Mariska won’t have fans!

Rainy Sunday

Sometimes on a rainy day
It’s good to stay inside,
To take advantage of the time
Those raindrops do provide.

There are diverse accomplishments
Just waiting to be made,
And every one’s deserving of
A big self-accolade.

You could empty out a closet,
Cook or clean or nap or bake;
Answer emails, pay some bills,
Relax, for goodness’ sake.

Do a puzzle, read a book
Or sit down with The Times.
What I accomplished with my day
Was write a play in rhymes.

On rainy Sundays, I look out
Just hoping that it pours.
It’s such a treat to not get dressed
And cuddle up indoors!

Response to "The Response"

Rick Perry held a rally
And he called on folks to pray.
It isn’t often that you see
Such chutzpah on display.

Although the claim was everyone
Was openly invited,
It seems that only Christians,
And religious ones, were sighted.

A Buddhist, Muslim, Atheist,
Agnostic or a Jew
Would have felt a bit uncomfortable
When Jesus praises flew.

I thought that Church and State,
As it is very plainly stated,
Are supposed to be, and always have been,
Clearly separated.

In Texas though, the governor
Thought he was justified
‘Cause no matter who objected,
He had Jesus on his side.

Can this man run for President?
I shudder at the thought.
He’d destroy religious freedom
That the founding fathers sought.

There are many in America
Who should sit up and take note
That not everyone’s a Christian
And non-Christians also vote!

Grandpa's Movies

There I am at three years old,
Showing off my clothes.
Whether that was my idea,
Nobody really knows.

Now I’m on a tricycle
And next I’m in a pool.
There’s my baby brother,
Who just stares and starts to drool.

In those old home movies,
Life looks wonderful and fun –
Families crammed around the table,
Room for everyone.

Aunts and uncles dangle
Niece and nephew on their shoulder;
All the cousins climb
On Grandpa’s lap as they get older.

Grown-ups laugh and drink and smoke
And mouth words we can’t hear;
Yet the family bonds stand out,
So strong and tight and clear.

I’m watching movies decades old,
A glimpse into the past;
Yet I’m here with my aunt and cousin,
So those bonds did last.

I wish that all those long deceased
Were here to reminisce;
‘Cause looking back reminds me
Of the people that I miss.

The Market

Like a jump rope, up and down,
Thereby go the stocks.
Those who have invested
Should prepare to get some shocks.

Everyone’s remembering
The year 2008.
Will this time resemble that?
We’ll have to sit and wait.

Analysts fear each decline
Portends the next recession.
Then the market surges
And becomes our new obsession.

Down it tumbles, up it goes;
We need a jump rope chant.
Who can know the score today?
The “experts” surely can’t!

Middle of the Row

When you’re sitting in the theater
‘Cause you’ve come to see a show,
How come the people coming late
Sit middle of the row?

Each person in the row must stand
Just so that guy might pass;
You can’t stay seated in your seat
‘Cause that would look too crass.

So everyone pops up until
The late one finds his place;
Then we all sit back down ‘til
Intermission’s bathroom race.

Soon each of us does this again:
Stand up, let pass, repeat;
And when the person does return,
The cycle is complete.

It never is the aisle patron
Getting up to leave.
Those people in the middle
Have some mischief up their sleeve.

Theft

Someone stole my New York Times
From right outside my door.
In all the years I’m here
It hasn’t happened once before.

I was away and so the paper
Languished there and waited.
The handyman confirmed it was delivered,
As was slated.

When I got home at 1 P.M.,
The paper wasn’t there.
Whoever lifted it decided
That I wouldn’t care.

But that conclusion was quite wrong –
I care and I was pissed!
I read the paper every day
And one lost would be missed.

That paper had my name on it;
It wasn’t there to steal.
Some people, though, would argue
That it’s not the biggest deal.

But that is where I have to say
I really disagree.
That New York Times was waiting there
For no one else but me.

I have a message for the thief:
Go buy your own damned Times;
And then you’ll never find yourself
Appearing in my rhymes.

Tipping the Scale

I saw a baby fox today;
It looked like it had lost its way.
Its mom was nowhere to be seen;
I felt like I should intervene.

Its tail was long; its fur was red.
Its skinny frame looked underfed.
It paced a bit right near the road,
Perhaps in search of its abode.

We drove away and left it there.
It wasn’t that we didn’t care;
But every creature that’s alive
Must learn the know-how to survive.

There’s a reason that each breath
Can tip the scale towards life or death.
Nature pulls the strings, not I,
Deciding who will live or die.

I hope that balance falls in favor
Of that fox, for I would savor
That our lack of enterprise
Did not result in its demise.

Fast Food

On the road today, I saw
A dead frog and a snake.
Both were squished, most likely
By a car and by mistake.


Last week it was a squirrel
Squashed and lifeless on the street.
It's Nature's way of giving crows
And vultures what to eat.


I guess the animals that live
Where humans choose to dwell
Don't realize when they cross the road
It's oft their last farewell.


And we drive on, oblivious
To what's beneath our wheels.
The scavengers are grateful, though,
For all the tasty meals.

One Man's Treasure...

The garbage men were out in droves,
Their curbside offers, waiting.
The scavengers had made their rounds,
For cans that need rebating.

But sometimes there, among the bags,
There’s some discarded pearl
Just hoping to be claimed before
The trash men’s final hurl.

Today I saw some cheerful pillows,
Slightly out of date,
No one around to rescue them
From their intended fate.

Their bright bold colors should have been
Enough to gain attention.
A passerby could easily
Have done an intervention.

Alas, it was not meant to be;
Those pillows hit the dust.
I guess they had outlived their use,
As we know all things must.

Sightings

There’s something strangely anti-urban
Seeing someone with a turban.
When I picture desert views,
A turbaned man is what I’d use.

He’d be astride a camel’s back
In Turkey, Yemen or Iraq.
His garments would be light as air
To keep him from the sun’s harsh glare.

But yesterday, smack in the city –
Noisy, crowded, hot and gritty,
There approached a turbaned guy,
The rest of him in shirt and tie.

Two blocks down, I saw a friar,
Wearing full-blown monk’s attire:
Flowing robe with sandaled feet;
Rope belt made the look complete.

New York’s such a melting pot;
We’ve heard that saying quite a lot.
Yet sometimes, still, a stranger’s guise
Can hit me with a real surprise.

Spitting Image

Something really grossed me out
While walking down the street;
A stranger cleared his throat and spat,
Just inches from my feet.

I think it is illegal
To just cough up phlegm and spit.
In society, it’s something
We should really not permit.

There once were signs in subway cars
Announcing prohibitions:
Loud radios and spitting
Both had fines for inhibitions.

Some people, though, do what they want
No matter who’s around.
I guess I should be grateful
That that spit stayed on the ground.

Five-Inch Heels

A story in The Times about
Admittance into clubs
Discussed the people who’d get in –
No luck for average schlubs.

You have to dress in certain clothes
And have the right cachet;
If not, you’ll not get past the rope,
No matter what you say.

What really got to me the most,
Describing women’s dress,
Was mentioning the shoes they’d need
To guarantee success.

Of course, they must be “Christians” -
That’s Louboutins, soled in red;
Or else Manolo Blahniks
May be strutted in, instead.

In either case, the shoes should have
No less than five-inch heels!
I wonder if the bouncer at the club
Knows how that feels.

‘Cause even in my younger days,
When cool styles I’d embrace,
If I wore five-inch heels, I’d end up
Flat upon my face!

I hate the whole idea of clubs
Where bouncers pick and choose
The patrons they’ll allow inside –
Based solely on their shoes!

Gabrielle Giffords

Gabrielle Giffords showed up in the House
Just in time for her vote to be cast.
Her presence brought smiles on both sides of the aisles
And the bill, with her vote, roundly passed.

Her hair is quite short and it’s no longer blond
And her gait is unsteady and slow;
Yet miraculously, she’s alive and she’s back
With her sparkling eyes all aglow.

When we first heard the news she was shot, we were shocked.
It was awful and scary and tragic;
But to see her today, optimism is due –
Her recovery seems just like magic.

I don’t know you, Ms. Giffords, but I’m not alone
Among people who wish you the best;
And just seeing you there, on the House floor last night,
I must tell you – we all were impressed!

Voicemail

You make a call and no one’s home
Or possibly asleep,
And so you hear their message
Then you wait to hear the beep.

You talk as though there’s someone there
Who’s listening to you.
In fact, somebody might be, but
You haven’t got a clue.

For nowadays, your number
Will appear on someone’s phone,
And maybe he or she’d prefer
That you’d leave them alone.

So next time as you leave your message,
Picture, if you dare,
The person you are calling
Sitting listening, right there.

When my phone rings, though, I’ll pick up
If I am on the scene;
So if you hear my voicemail,
Please converse with my machine!