Hollow-een

It doesn’t feel like Halloween
And that is thanks to Sandy.
So many suffer still it feels
Obscene to fix on candy.

The city’s lacking power south of
Forty-Second Street;
And people living downtown surely
Do deserve a treat.

I’m sure they’d like their stoves and lights
And heat to start to work.
The trick-or-treating gig this year
Is something most will shirk.

The mayor even canceled
Greenwich Village’s parade.
What good would all those costumes do
When spirits have been frayed?

It’s sad when such a festive day,
So filled with spark and spunk,
Gets brushed aside because the storm
Has left us in a funk.

We’ll hopefully bounce back next year
And then reclaim this night,
But celebrating now somehow
Just wouldn’t feel quite right.

Trees

If Nature’s wrath we could appease
By sacrificing noble trees,
Then She should well be satisfied,
For scores of trees have up and died.

I reconnoitered city blocks
Where people stood, absorbing shocks
Of once majestic elms and oaks
Destroyed by Mother Nature’s strokes.

Some split in half, their branches strewn
And lives extinguished, years too soon;
So helplessly they languish, prone,
Their false facade of vigor blown.

The storm recedes, the damage done,
The clean-up barely just begun;
But roots and hearts alike were torn.
We sweep up limbs and leaves and mourn.

Misinterpretation

A word, a gesture or a shrug
Can be misunderstood
And trying to explain intent
Most often does no good.

For those insulted want to see
What they expect is meant;
And if that context isn’t there,
They cannot be content.

To justify the way they feel,
Their misinterpretation
Becomes so real to them they need
No further confirmation.

It’s useless, then, to clarify
The essence you intended,
For in their wounded state you can’t
Assuage the ones offended.

It blows my mind how words can be
Destroyed with just a twist,
‘Cause explanations can’t undo
Assumptions that persist.

Before the Deluge

They’ve closed the schools, they’ve stopped the trains;
They’ve shuttered up the gym.
Evacuations are in place;
The outlook’s kind of grim.

The stores are mobbed, the traffic light,
The grills all brought inside.
The TV stations tell us
Readiness should be our guide.

With bottled water on the shelf
And AA’s up to date,
We gaze out windows, watch the wind
And warily, we wait.

Batten Down the Hatches

Batten down the hatches –
A storm is on its way.
Don’t know when it’s comin’
Or how long it’s gonna stay.

Every market’s crowded –
People gathering supplies.
No one wants to be caught short
Or taken by surprise.

Plans are being canceled,
Dates all rearranged –
Phones and laptops busy as
New info is exchanged.

We’re ready for the tempest –
We’ve got flashlights, candles, matches.
I’m prepared to do some battening,
But what the hell are hatches?

A Thousand Words

A picture’s worth a thousand words,
At least that’s what they say;
But sometimes truth’s revealed
That really takes your breath away.

Perhaps you never realized
That you have an extra chin;
Or that some yellow teeth appear
When you decide to grin.

A bald spot that you cannot see
‘Cause it’s behind your head
Is captured in a photograph,
Exposing how it’s spread.

A zit you thought quite indistinct
Sticks out like a sore thumb;
And all that graying hair laid bare’s
Enough to make you numb.

I’d rather hear a thousand words
And wish I’d never seen
The pictures that I saw today
On my computer screen!

Dental Floss

Eat a poppy bagel
And you’d sure be at a loss
If you did not have access to
A string of dental floss.

Toothpicks aren’t strong enough
To dig out all the seeds.
Dental floss, in mint or plain,
Is what a person needs.

You can tell the flossers
From the dental-flosser-nots;
The latter group, when smiling,
Will flash teeth with polka dots!

Infinity

Math was never quite my thing;
Its concepts are elusive.
What wiser minds accept as fact,
To me seems inconclusive.

Infinity is one I cannot
Wrap my brain around.
No matter how you search, the ending
Simply can’t be found.

It makes a bit more sense, though,
When considering the face.
We all have eyes, a nose and mouth
And ears to form the base.

Yet subtle differences combine
Within this basic frame
And infinite composites mean
We never look the same.

For all the humans now alive
And those who once have been,
No two have looked like replicas
Except, of course, a twin.

I see infinity at work
And almost comprehend
The nature of a math idea
Which logic can’t defend.

Underneath

I polish my toenails, but no one will see them
‘Til I wear my sandals next summer.
I might as well shine all the pipes ‘neath the sink
Just in case I’ll be needing the plumber.

I also wear underwear, patterned and bright,
Though only my husband might know it.
I guess it seems strange to care how something looks
When there’s no one to whom you will show it.

But each time I look at my toes or get dressed,
I enjoy every hue or design;
And I realize I’m gussied for one person’s view,
Which just happens, of course, to be mine!

Homemade

Homemade things are sometimes best,
But often they are not.
Knowing when to hit the stores
Keeps moods from getting hot.

Want to bake a cake? You heed
Directions to the letter;
But like as not, the bakery
Has cakes that taste much better.

Stir a pot of sauce for hours,
Like the cook you are.
Don’t be shocked when it’s as good
As what comes in a jar.

I tried my best today to make
A costume for a play,
My knickers getting in a knot
As hours ticked away.

So now I’ll head to shops set up
In time for Halloween;
I’ll find the perfect costume
For a paltry wad of green.

It won’t be as creative,
Where I’d wallow in my vanity,
But I’ll get great results
And also maybe keep my sanity!

Twizzlers

How I love a Twizzler!
It’s a perfect little snack.
You take a bite and yank it
And it yanks a little back.

The strawberry’s my favorite
For it’s chewy and it’s sweet.
It satisfies my sugar fix
And makes a meal complete.

I’m sometimes craving chocolate
But more often what I want
Is a treat that you will never find
In any restaurant:

It’s a twisted, twirly Twizzler!
And as long as it’s not stale,
It will generate a smile
Every time and without fail!

Is It Time?

Is it time to buy an iPhone?
I've been doing fine without it.
Yet most people seem to have one;
There are no two ways about it.

I don't want to get addicted
Like most smartphone users are,
Always looking down and scrolling,
Which I really find bizarre.

Yet it's nice to access email
Or find info when you need it.
There's an appetite for gadgets
And in modern life, we feed it.

Though my husband has an iPhone,
Which I often seem to borrow,
I know I can have my own,
Perhaps as early as tomorrow.

So I'm on the diving platform,
Staring down into the deep
Of technology's advances
And I'm ready for the leap.

Will I do it? Time's a'wasting
And my motive's more than whim;
But such challenges await and I
Don't really like to swim.

I Never Take a Bath

I never ever take a bath;
The thought is quite revolting.
If somebody suggested one,
My answer would be jolting.

For soaking in some stagnant water
Seems to me repulsive;
But don’t conclude I’m dirty –
‘Bout my showers I’m compulsive.

I know that many find a soak
Quite soothing and relaxing.
Why, there are poets who find baths
Worth wondrous words of waxing!

Yet I am not a fan at all
And bubbles won’t entice me.
A steaming, streaming shower spigot
Seems to paradise me.

I’ll never ever take a bath
If it is in my power,
But I can write a paean
To the glories of a shower!

Competing

It’s nice to win a contest.
I know I, for one, have tried;
But I read about one recently
In which the winner died.

Some folks think if something’s risky
That the glory’s more intense,
Which is why they may take chances
When a contest makes no sense…

Like the one on Broward County:
Eating roaches was its goal;
And the winner, thirty-two years old,
Thought he was on a roll.

He defeated all contenders
But he got no prize; instead
He collapsed and just like what he ate,
He ended up quite dead.

There’s a moral to this story:
Watch out for the things you eat
And determine if it’s worth it
When deciding to compete.

Holey

My sock has a hole.
Should I throw it away?
No one wants to see
My big toe on display.

And yet, if I darn it,
The stitches will show
And that may look almost
As bad as the toe.

I guess I’ll just ditch it
And also its mate.
It’s argyle and other socks
Just won’t equate.

It’s not a big deal
So then, who would console
For the end of the life
Of a sock with a hole?

Yet I always feel bad
When some socks must get tossed.
They’ve lasted through laundry
And never got lost.

But everything always
Must come to an end
And sometimes it’s better
To toss than to mend…

Sour Grapes

Lemons make you pucker
If you bite into their pulp.
Limes produce a juice to make you
Grimace as you gulp.

Other fruits are bitter
But there’s one with no escapes
And you can tell, by someone’s face,
Who’s eaten sour grapes.

Those who have partaken often
Find someone to blame.
Others have it in for them,
Is what they’ll try to claim.

Though their feelings might be hurt,
That’s something they won’t share;
But they’ll spew forth their anger
At the ones they deem unfair.

Maybe even sour grapes
We’d view as more benign
If those who bit them, chose instead
To make them into wine!

This is How it Starts

On the tennis court, my knee
Gave me a little pain.
Walking down the steps, I also
Felt a little strain.

Then today, I tried to run
Across a busy street;
That knee seized up to slow me down –
I hobbled in defeat.

I’m sure it’s just arthritis
But it made me start to think
I’m heading into the abyss
Or else I’m on the brink.

For as the years go by, we see
Our youth as it departs;
And when we can no longer run,
Well, this is how it starts.

I’m waiting now and wondering,
If age has got me hexed,
Which part of brain or body
Is about to fail me next.

So step right up and place your bet;
I’ll keep you up to date.
The possibilities, profuse,
Are open to debate.

Jack-O-Lantern

Buy a pumpkin, big and round;
Choices at the stands abound.
Pick one with a solid stem –
You’ll know when you’ve found a gem.

Cut a circle ‘round the top;
Dig inside – remove the glop.
Separate each slimy seed;
Patience is what you will need.

Rinse and dry this pumpkin treat;
Spread them on a cookie sheet.
Shake some salt and let them bake;
Undersalting’s a mistake.

Meanwhile, get your sharpest knife;
Time for Jack to get a life.
Carve a face with sneer or grin,
Then you poke a candle in.

Now your Jack-O-Lantern’s set;
Admiration’s what you’ll get.
While you’re feeling downright boasty,
Munch some seeds, all nice and toasty.

Some traditions never die;
This one has a reason why:
Every year at Halloween,
Jack-O-Lanterns steal the scene!

Sight Unseen

My glasses are for distance;
I remove them when I read.
I couldn’t drive without them, though –
That much is guaranteed.

Yet when I sit down for a meal,
My glasses have to go.
They bother me when eating,
Although why, I do not know.

It’s really quite annoying
In a restaurant, ‘cause hey –
I don’t know where to put them
Where they won’t get in the way.

There’s only so much table space
And it seems like a pain
To have them hung around my neck
On some fahcocta* chain.

I guess they’d rest upon my head
But they’d mess up my hair.
I wouldn’t feel too comfortable
If they were perched up there.

If I rated all my problems,
This is bottom of the slate,
But I’m sure that there are other
Glasses-wearers who’d relate.

*ridiculous

Veep Debate

I knew I couldn’t get to sleep
Unless I watched Veep versus Veep;
‘Cause after last week’s dull debate,
I hoped that this would set things straight.

So Biden started his attack,
His plan to make his rival crack;
But Ryan never lost his cool
Or gave us much to ridicule…

Except his blather had no heft.
Without the fluff, not much is left;
For Romney’s plans are not prolific,
Naming nary one specific.

Biden couldn’t stop his smiling
Which, to some, was not beguiling.
Still, despite his constant grin,
He secured a solid win.

Hopefully, some indecision
Will be changed by television.
Voters feeling some connection
Will determine this election.

My Enemy

The mirror is my enemy,
But used to be my friend.
The past is gone forever
And it’s no use to pretend.

Reality’s reflected
And it’s not a pretty sight.
I rarely feel defeated
But I’ve given up the fight.

I’ve hit on a solution –
I just shouldn’t even glance
Into any type of mirror
Under any circumstance.

In a warlike situation,
When you’re entering the fray,
Let your common sense remind you –
Keep your enemies at bay!

Between Time

We’re now in between time;
The closet’s in flux.
Dressing’s a problem
And clothing’s the crux.

Turtleneck? T-shirt?
Long pants or Capris?
Boots worn with tights
Or just socks to the knees?

Temp’s one day 80,
The next 52;
Sift through my dresser –
Don’t know what to do.

Short-sleeved tops nestled
Near sweaters of wool.
Time for decisions;
The drawers are too full.

The closet has waiting
My jackets, some light.
Hard to tell which one
Will help me feel right.

Between time just happens
But doesn’t last long.
At least in the winter,
I won’t be dressed wrong!

Connection

We all know those who cannot meet –
Too busy, too much doing.
We understand and do not feel
That they are misconstruing.

Some that I know can’t even call –
They cannot spare a minute.
I know they wish they had more time;
I have to bear and grin it.

There’s one way to communicate
That somehow never ends;
And if you play, you know that I
Refer to “Words with friends.”

It only takes a minute –
Check your letters, make your move;
But when you hit the “Play” key,
You know someone will approve.

It’s the modern day connector.
When I find myself a’yearn,
I plunk my word upon the board;
It’s now my partner’s turn.

It’s not quite conversation,
But connection nonetheless.
In times like these, such reciprocity
Denotes success!

Half a Holiday

Streets in New York City seem
Unusually quiet.
Business isn’t typical –
You really can’t deny it.

Traffic’s very light;
Though stores are open, schools are not.
Half a holiday is what
It seems that we have got.

Though the market’s selling stocks,
You can’t buy any stamps.
Check your bank before you go - 
They’ve split into two camps.

Workers either celebrate
A day to stay in bed
Or for the other half,
An average day of work instead.

New Years and Thanksgiving
And some others, we’ve agreed
Are days for all to celebrate,
And that’s been guaranteed.

Columbus Day is not the same,
For many folks on staff
Are stuck without a holiday
Or rather, just a half.

1492

They don’t teach like they used to
Back when I was still in school.
So many facts I learned
Just aren’t taught now, as a rule.

Yet there is one true constant
And I’m sure you learned it, too:
In 1492
Columbus sailed the ocean blue.

Yes, that year is like a trigger
That gets pulled inside our brains;
Of all the dates from history,
That single one remains.

So poetry has done its job
And teachers throughout time
Have been grateful that Columbus
Had a year and feat that rhyme!

Apple Season

Pick a bag of apples
Or a bushel or a peck.
Drink some apple cider -
Have a gallon, what the heck!

Bake an apple pie and serve it,
Warm and a la mode.
Bite a jelly apple -
Feel its crunchy shell implode.

Make an apple cobbler
Or pan dowdy or a cake;
Sweets prepared with apples
Never taste like a mistake.

Sip some apple brandy
Or imbibe some apple jack;
They possess the flavor
Other liquors seem to lack.

Celebrate the season
Of this crispy, tangy fruit.
It's clear why Eve in Eden
Would accept no substitute!

Power Breakfast

Bigwigs like to breakfast
With compadres of their ilk.
They like imbibing power
With their coffee, tea or milk.

The usual location
Where they meet and break their bread
Plans to close for renovations,
So what will they do instead?

A restaurant’s been chosen
As replacement for a while;
Because it’s on Park Avenue,
It has the proper style.

A certain politician, though,
When asked about it, boasted,
“I’ll try it, but they’d better know
I like my whole-wheat toasted.”

With all the problems in the world
Just falling at their feet,
How strange to think the big shots
Care so much ‘bout where they eat.

Perhaps our negativity
Towards them would be more minor
If they would meet for breakfast
At the low-cost local diner!

The First Debate

Like gladiators, though in suits,
They marched onto the stage,
Their confidence or nervousness
Impossible to gauge.

The moderator welcomed them.
The crowd gave their applause;
And then we held our breaths, in hope
Of seeing someone’s flaws.

Their words lashed out, attacking,
Modern weapons they were wielding;
And both repeated errors –
To the truth they weren’t yielding.

We squirmed a bit at things they said
And silently entreated,
Encouraging our candidate
To not act so defeated.

The commentators waited
‘Til the battle reached its end
And then declared the winner,
Which supporters would defend.

At home, we turned the tube off
And, elated or dismayed,
We wondered if the undecided
Might have gotten swayed.

With two more competitions
Plus the VP’s set to meet,
It’s too soon to determine
Who will end up in defeat.

Into the Tiger's Den

The Bronx Zoo has a monorail
I’ve ridden many times.
It takes you into “Asia”
And the natives of its climes.

Passing elephants and rhinos
It has shuttled folks for years,
As they’ve watched amazing creatures,
Safely sitting on their fears.

But last week, just as the monorail
Approached the tiger’s den,
Someone leaped out past the fences,
The most foolish of all men.

A tiger from Siberia,
Four hundred pounds and fierce,
Was upon him in an instant
And those teeth had lots to pierce.

The keepers came and saved the man.
The tiger’s life was spared;
It merely did the job for which
Its nature was prepared.

The jumper wanted to be “one”
With that majestic beast.
I guess he didn’t realize
He’d be viewed as quite a feast.

Though animals amaze us
With their beauty and their grace,
More often I’m astounded
By the crazy human race!

Immerse Yourself

The local health club has a sign
Encouraging recruits:
“Immerse yourself” and what it means
Is exercise pursuits.

The concept is a clever one –
The words sound so enticing.
You delve into a hobby
And immersion is the icing.

But working out is not, for some,
The means for self-improving;
And other ways exist to get one’s
Motivation moving.

For me, the message that the gym
Is trying to disperse
Is one I’ll tweak a bit 'cause I'll
Immerse myself in verse!

Crash Pads

Apartment dwellers often wish
They had a bit more space,
Yet there exist some studios
Few humans could embrace.

I read about these dwellings,
Some 200 feet or less;
The occupants were smiling,
Proud of their New York address.

They didn’t have much clutter;
Every object had its place.
Most used them just for sleeping –
Not quite home, but more home base.

“The city is my living room,
So all that I possess
Fits neatly in my tiny space,”
One took time to express.

To each his own, I always say,
But there’d be not a trace
Of normalcy inside of me –
I’d be a basket case

If I were forced to live there
Or just visit once too often;
I’ll settle for such real estate
When I am in my coffin!