Chocolate Covered

I love chocolate covered almonds,
Chocolate raisins, too.
Many foods improve in taste
When chocolate’s in the chew.

Chocolate icing on a cake
Just takes it up a notch.
Adding chocolate when you bake
Means recipes won’t botch.

Still, I guess there is a limit
To this chocolate dance.
I think I would refuse to eat
Some chocolate covered ants!

Apples and Honey

Once a year it’s time to dip
Some apples into honey.
If you know the reason why,
You’re Jewish – I’d bet money.

For at Rosh Hashanah,
As the New Year does begin,
We celebrate by licking honey
Off an apple’s skin.

It symbolizes sweetness,
Which we hope the coming year
Will provide for us and for, as well,
The ones that we hold dear.

So select a crisp fresh apple slice
And go ahead and dip,
But as you enjoy its sweetness,
Just be careful you don’t drip!

Wheels

Babies get around on wheels;
From strollers, we can hear their squeals.
Tricycles help toddlers get
To where their legs won’t take them yet.

Wheels on buses, rolling ‘round
Propel our travels off the ground.
Bicycles supply the means
For people who lack limousines.

Kids on skates roll through the parks;
Skateboards also leave their marks.
Taxis, airplanes, even trains
All have wheels for their terrains.

We don’t dwell too much on wheels.
Still, I wonder how it feels
For those whose wheelchairs do provide
The only way to get outside.

I guess we all pay much more heed
To things in life we really need.
Yet somehow, all of us rely
On tires and wheels to get us by.

City Bear

Saw a bear cub on the street
But it was just a toy,
Likely fallen from the grasp
Of someone’s girl or boy.

I looked around for strollers
But I didn’t spot a one.
Possibly some toddler’s tantrum
May have just begun.

Two other people saw the bear
And one bent to retrieve it.
I’m glad he did – it would have been
Quite wrong to simply leave it.

He put it on a light pole box
Where it was plainly seen,
And if the owner found it there,
It would be safe and clean.

I passed that corner later on;
The toy was not in sight.
I really hope that someone helped
That bear and child unite.

A Very Fine Line

There’s a very fine line between drink & drunk,
Pink & punk, fink & funk.
When you’re crossing the line you may lose your spunk,
‘Cause it’s really a very fine line.

There’s a very fine line between wrong & right,
Bark & bite, fight & flight.
When you’re crossing the line you might be uptight,
‘Cause it’s really a very fine line.

There’s a very fine line between yes & no,
Stop & go, fast & slow.
When you’re crossing the line, you may not quite know
That it is such a very fine line.

A decision is made when we cross that line.
It may be unconscious or by design;
But the blame or the credit is yours or mine,
When we step past that very fine line.

Football Bumps

Football season’s started, but
I really do not care.
The games bump other shows I like
From being on the air.

I love to watch the Yankees
And pro tennis keeps me glued;
But football is one sport for which
I’m never in the mood.

The ball is tossed or kicked and caught,
The players run five feet;
And then they form a human pile
To make the play complete.

This action then repeats itself
With very little change.
To someone watching from the sides,
It seems a little strange.

Yet millions follow, root and cheer,
So loyal to their teams
That football games take center stage
And show up in their dreams.

To me, I’m just annoyed when games
Make other shows start late.
Is isn’t fair for us non-football fans
Who have to wait.

Rain Date

Life goes on, despite the rain,
Though bad weather is a pain.
Outdoor venues lose the crowd,
But cancellation’s not allowed.

Many people do not show;
Raindrops change a “yes” to “no.”
Often no remorse is felt –
After all, they may just melt!

Braver folks gear up and leave,
Water soaking shoe and sleeve.
Still, they get to where they should –
Bedraggled, yes, but feeling good.

Deluded

Many people walk around quite happily deluded.
We all have misconceptions of our flaws, myself included.
I see some people strutting by, unflatteringly dressed,
But they would disagree with what my eyes have just assessed.

We watch the TV talent shows for those who sing or dance,
And realize many are so bad they don’t deserve a chance.
Yet there they are, quite clueless, belting out an off-key tune
And when criticism comes, they look like they’re about to swoon.

Our self-protective instincts often keep us in the dark;
We sail through life by nurturing that tiny, hidden spark.
It’s easier, by far, to keep one’s faith in an illusion,
Allowing us to promenade, ensconced in our delusion.

Tattoos

Once exclusively for sailors,
Often after lots to drink,
Nowadays it seems that everyone
Is branded with some ink.

On an ankle or a shoulder,
Peeking out from neck or chest,
There are symbols, words or pictures,
Anything you can request.

I’ve seen butterflies and rainbows,
Angel wings on someone’s back;
And, quite often, patterns near the waist,
Above the rear-end crack.

Sometimes decorations cover
Every inch of someone’s arm.
Though to me, it looks grotesque,
I’m sure to others, it must charm.

When those sailors had exclusive
Claim to most of the tattoos,
Other people shied away and thought
They had too much to lose.

Yet today, tattoos are common.
Young and old give them a whirl;
But the only ones I never see
Are “Mom” and pin-up girl!

In the Moment

When you are in the moment,
You just focus on the now.
You do not question anything –
The why or when or how.

You fixate on the task at hand
And no one’d ever guess
That other times your life can be
A huge ungainly mess.

But when you are engrossed in something,
Work-wise or for fun,
You’re so absorbed it seems your problems
Never have begun.

It’s wonderful to wallow
In the moment – you’re in clover!
Enjoy it ‘cause before you know it,
Poof! It will be over.

Pink Slippers

I knew a little boy
A very long, long time ago.
He wanted slippers that were pink
And sadly, I said no.

So many years have passed
And now a briefcase he did need.
I’d buy whatever he picked out –
On this, we both agreed.

He choice was rugged leather
In a rich deep shade of brown.
He’d looked at more expensive ones,
But kept the outlay down.

It made me think back to that time
When I said no to pink.
I wish I hadn’t, but it made no difference,
I don’t think.

I guess as we grow up,
We’re shaped by many different voices;
And there are times when those we love
May veto our first choices.

Yet we become who we must be
Despite well-meaning blunders;
And when a bond survives and thrives,
It’s one of life’s great wonders.

Spell-check

Before you put your writing out
For other folks to read,
There’s one small tidbit of advice
You really ought to heed.

Just double-check your spelling
And use grammar-check as well,
For glaring errors will distract
And possibly, repel.

Some typos may just slip right through
But that is no excuse.
What’s on the page or screen should be
The best you can produce.

Some culprits like apostrophes,
If placed where they don’t go,
Will jump out like neon signs
To sharper readers in the know.

Put your very best foot forward.
Make sure every word’s correct,
So the readers will not judge you
For your lack of intellect.

Sated

The artist sketches, draws or paints;
The chef cooks up a storm.
The singer practices the scales,
Preparing to perform.

The dancer limbers up and moves
According to the beat.
The athlete hits the gym so he
Is ready to compete.

The actor memorizes lines
‘Til he knows every word.
The barkeep makes martinis,
Sometimes shaken, sometimes stirred.

The politician plans his speech;
The teacher grades a test.
The stripper bumps and grinds until
She’s practically undressed.

We all do what we’ve gotta do
To feed our appetite;
And some of us, including me,
Get sated when we write.

Frustration

Laid-back people take a breath,
Helping them relax.
Others count to ten or more
To stave off heart attacks.

When frustration rears its head
And visits for a spell,
Many handle it in stride
But I give in and yell.

I rant and rave and growl and scream
Just like a lunatic;
Although it sounds a little weird,
It seems to do the trick.

As far as coping strategies,
There’re better ones, no doubt;
But after I have screamed a bit,
I’ve let the tension out.

So if you are in hearing range
When I go on a rant,
Feel smug that you rein in your stress,
But as for me – I can’t!

Stray

Saw a stray cat on the street,
Quite rare, for where I live;
My efforts to entice it held
Like water in a sieve.

It crouched beneath a car, ignoring
My well-meaning pleas,
The fear apparent in its eyes
Increasing by degrees.

It bolted ‘cross the avenue,
A move uncalculated,
And vanished on its journey
To wherever fate awaited.

I had to leave and do not know
The way that things turned out.
I’m not too optimistic, but
There’s always room for doubt.

A Warning

A broadcast on a city bus
Sure took me by surprise,
‘Cause paranoia is the thing
It most exemplifies.

A voice, real stern, announced
A warning that we all should heed.
The penalty for disobeying
Would be harsh indeed.

“If you assault the driver
Of a city bus, beware!
We’ll consider it a felony,
So try it if you dare.”

They didn’t say the last part,
But I’m sure you get the drift:
Attack the driver and be sure
That justice will be swift.

It made me wonder just how many
Times this does occur;
And will a mere recording
Be sufficient to deter?

I’m glad I heard that message
‘Cause it kept me right on track,
Else I might have given in and hit
That driver with a whack.

Just a Little Change

Sometimes just a little change
Can give you such a lift.
It isn’t really all that strange;
Reshaping is a gift.

New haircut, jacket, hat or shoes,
A fresh new car or bike,
Can be the cure for all the blues,
If it’s a thing you like.

It may be time to chuck the old,
Replacing it from scratch.
I’m one who oft must be cajoled;
I struggle to detach.

And yet today, I took the plunge;
I got a brand-new sink.
In cleaning up, I did expunge
More junk than you would think.

My kitchen now looks clean and neat.
I walk in and start gaping;
And though it’s not at all complete,
I like the way it’s shaping.

What's Best for You

There are times when you must choose
To do what’s best for you,
Even if it isn’t what
Someone would have you do.

From time to time your choices
May dissatisfy a friend,
But guilt is not an impetus
For your resolve to bend.

We all, at times, will fall far short
Of other’s expectations.
Yet need and self-protection
Are quite honest explanations.

It’s lousy when we disappoint
Somebody’s sure presumption.
To do so takes determination
And a dash of gumption.

The Memorial

Fingers gently graze each letter
Carved into the stone.
In death and for eternity,
No name will stand alone.

The friends and families gather;
The reflecting pools reflect.
Pretty soon there will be strangers
Come to offer their respect.

Everyone who lost a loved one
Has been shattered and bereft,
But each name is made of memories,
Which is all that they have left.

Ten Years

Ten years ago today it was,
When all we knew was true
Exploded right before our eyes,
With nothing we could do.

At ceremonies every year
They read each victim’s name,
And relatives all say their lives
Have never been the same.

I watch and listen as each son
Or daughter, niece or wife
Tells their deceased one how he’s left
A hole in someone’s life.

You cannot help but shed a tear
When hearing these accounts.
Emotions seek our weaknesses
And know just when to pounce.

We put ourselves in someone’s shoes
And try to feel their grief,
But when this day is over,
We can sigh with great relief.

For families and friends of those
Who perished on that day,
The anguish that we briefly shared
Will never go away.

Grunt

Tennis players on the hunt
To score a point, no doubt,
Believe that every time they grunt
It psychs opponents out.

It may be true, with someone's head
The player may be toying,
But to most fans, it is instead
A sound that's most annoying.

Every grunt or oomph or shriek
Wreaks havoc with my nerves.
The silent player, most unique,
Gets less than he deserves.

If grunting were prohibited
And umps enforced the same,
Then what would be exhibited
Would be a peaceful game.

We'd hear the thwack of racquet
As it smacks against the ball,
And those grunters who can't hack it
Won't be missed much - if at all!

Decorum

Tennis pros are on the courts;
Fans are in the stands.
Silence, we should know, is what
The circumstance demands.

Yet there are those who can't abide
By customs of decorum.
Maybe being quiet for so long
Will simple bore 'em.

So these few clowns feel they're allowed
To yell, with vim and verve,
Some player's name just as that player
Is about to serve.

It's tacky, lowlife, rude and dumb
And violates the rules.
Yet every match is plagued
By these annoying boorish fools.

The players simply pause and wait,
Their concentration shot.
No matter where the match is held,
This happens, quite a lot.

I think that fans should be informed -
This might come as a shocker -
That tennis etiquette is not
Like football or like soccer.

So anyone who wants to scream
When silence is expected,
Should watch the match from home or else
Expect to be ejected.

Back to School

The rain stopped kind of suddenly;
The sun came out to shine.
It seemed not like coincidence,
But like a grand design.

For students went to school today,
The first day back since June.
I’m sure some older kids believe
This day has come too soon.

Yet younger kids I saw today,
Most clutching parent’s hands,
Looked nervous and excited,
Which the circumstance demands.

With brand-new backpacks strapped on tight
And outfits neatly pressed,
They seemed quite happy to be there;
Their parents, though, seemed stressed.

I heard a snippet of advice,
A mother to her son:
“If anybody starts with you…”
His day’d not quite begun.

Now he’d be in defensive mode,
An awful way to start.
That mom thought she was helping,
But she didn’t play it smart.

For everyone deserves to have
A fresh, new shiny slate.
There’s lots of time throughout the year
For dreams to detonate.

The first day should be smooth and sweet,
A welcome filled with wonder;
And everyone deserves some sunshine
With no threat of thunder.

Dancers

Went to see some dancers dance
And marveled as they moved.
Their bodies were in perfect shape
And could not be improved.

Such discipline they must endure,
The hours of practice spent
To get to where they are –
The sacrifice is evident.

And yet, I wondered, as I watched,
What happens as they age?
Where will they be when they no longer
Can command the stage?

They love their craft, but likely
Will not garner fame or riches.
For artists, struggles such as these
Are the expected glitches.

But for today, they leaped and stomped
And dazzled for the crowd.
Their joy was etched upon their faces
As they smiled and bowed.

The future is so far away
And they are in no hurry;
But as I clapped, I thought of it
And couldn’t help but worry.

Headlines

Wildfires rage in Texas,
Like they need the added heat;
And thirty shootings in New York
Made Labor Day complete.

Famine grips Somalia,
And the U.S.A.’s caught spying.
In Egypt, at Mubarak’s trial,
Witnesses are lying.

Eighteen in Yosemite
Have died while on vacation.
Victims of the hurricane
Are wracked with indignation.

A rainy day – I stayed indoors
And caught up with the news.
As if the rain were not enough,
The Times gave me the blues.

Reread

I’m reading a book that I’ve read once before,
But it’s not for the reason you’re thinking.
It’s not that I loved it, but rather because
As I’m aging, my memory’s shrinking.

The author is someone whose writing I like,
Yet the title I didn’t recall.
It was published a number of years ago, still
It did not sound familiar at all.

So I brought the book home and I started to read
And I felt something tug at my brain;
For the characters’ problems allowed me to see
I was walking familiar terrain.

From the nooks and the crannies where info is stored,
I retrieved little bits that adhered;
But enough of the story’s retained its suspense,
For the bulk of it has disappeared.

I’ve decided that I will keep reading this book
And in case this may find you perplexed,
Though I’ve read it before – I’m quite sure of it now –
I have no idea what happens next!

Rubbernecking

If you are on a highway
And the traffic starts to slow,
There may be several explanations
Why this might be so.

It could be some construction
Or an accident, perchance;
More likely, though, the traffic jam
Is caused by just a glance.

‘Cause every single motorist
Must hit the brake and gawk.
A wrecked car’s as enticing
As a rodent to a hawk.

So one by one, each driver lets
His speed drop to a crawl,
Just savoring some other sucker’s
Automotive fall.

We call this rubbernecking
And the metaphor is apt,
Since every driver’s neck that cranes
Leaves other drivers trapped.

As Freud would say, whoever
Sees a situation grim,
Just feels relieved to know
The sorry victim isn’t him.

Unfortunately, traffic stops
Or moves just like a snail.
Wherever you are going,
Lateness surely will prevail.

Out With the Old

Things fall apart or start to break
'Cause nothing lasts forever,
And searching for replacements
Is a challenging endeavor.


Some find it hard to let things go
For sentimental reasons,
And so they live with leaks or rips
For one too many seasons.


Eventually, there is no choice
And what was dying dies.
The sentimentalist must face
What comes as no surprise.


And so the hunt begins again
But this time, it's for real;
For getting rid of broken things
Should not be a big deal.


Reluctantly, I'll hit the stores
And look for some replacements;
But I'll view them resignedly,
Without enthused embracements.


Most people, buying something new,
Don't need to be cajoled;
But as for me, my preference is
To hang on to the old.

Hummingbird

Of all of Nature's creatures,
One I always have preferred
Is that frenzied and frenetic flyer
Called the hummingbird.


It drops by just sporadically
And flits from flower to flower,
With wings that flap so fast in search
Of nectar to devour.


I always fill my planters with
Bright blossoms blooming red,
'Cause hummingbirds prefer that hue
When looking to be fed.


Yet still, I only catch a glimpse
A few times every season.
They must prefer the solitude
Or have a private reason.


But though they choose to stay away
And only rarely visit,
Those few occasions thus become
More precious and exquisite.


The hummingbird I saw today
Sure vanished mighty quick,
But the smile it left upon my face
Will, much much longer, stick.

Try, Try Again

The first attempt to navigate
From Point A to Point B
Was a rather unsuccessful one,
I'm sure you would agree.


We had to turn around and though
It made us feel down-hearted,
We drove a lot of miles to get
Right back to where we'd started.


Three days have passed and so we tried
To make the trip once more.
We breezed right through without the hassles
That we'd had before.


I guess that saying's accurate,
The one from way back when -
'Cause if you don't succeed at first,
Just wait and try again.