Tune-In Radio

I recently discovered
What I guess I should have known,
That I can hear the greatest music
Streaming from my phone.

The radio won’t always play
The songs that I enjoy,
So Tune-In Radio’s the app
That I can now employ.

And when I see my grandson,
There’s no radio at all;
But with my phone, I dance around
When Henry starts to bawl.

I often think technology
Makes life a whole lot worse,
But when it’s good, I’m glad enough
To celebrate in verse!

Spit-Up

My shirt is splotched with spit-up,
Though my shoulder sports a burper.
My clothes are like a kingdom
And my grandson's the usurper.

He drinks his bottle, gives a burp
And then, without a doubt,
A quarter of what just went in
Comes, like a fountain, out.

I really do not mind, but learned
My lesson, truth be told - 
When I'm with Henry, what I wear
Is faded, frayed or old!

Secret Service

Obama walked the aisle
Shaking hands and smooching cheeks,
The camera giving all of us
Some voyeuristic peeks.

One couldn’t help but notice, though,
The Secret Service men,
Whose faces filled the screen not once,
But over and again.

Somebody should have warned them
They were stealing all the thunder;
When they went home and saw themselves,
What did they think? I wonder.

Yet even more perplexing is,
Perhaps this question’s dumb,
But who exactly was Obama
Being shielded from?

Unmatched

With lots of socks that look alike,
It’s hard to make a pair.
To try to find the perfect match,
You need some time to spare.

My husband solved the problem, though,
His gym socks the intention,
Which proves that yes, necessity’s
The mother of invention.

On every sock, he made a mark –
First A, then B, then C;
The mate received a matching letter,
Alphabetically.

A Sharpie was his tool of choice
To keep the letters bright
In contrast to his many socks
In varied shades of white.

So from the dryer, out they pour,
Each waiting for its mate,
Which now is found so easily,
No question or debate.

It’s quite a shrewd solution
Though I think it’s also plain
That a plan like this would never come
From any woman’s brain!

The Grammys

The Grammys put on quite a show,
With singers young and aging
Combining all their talents on
Some fresh and flashy staging.

How special having Paul and Ringo,
Willie Nelson, Carole King,
Pink, Beyoncé, Lorde, Jay Z,
All brought together just to sing.

While watching as the audience
Was grooving to each other’s sound,
It was a sure reminder that
Life’s better with a song around.

For music has the power
To inspire and delight;
But even more, it closes gaps
And helps us to unite.

Lost and Found

In the cab, upon the seat,
I spot an iPhone 5.
I hand it to the cabbie
Just as he begins to drive.

In minutes, it begins to ring.
An agitated voice
Says, “Bring the phones to my hotel,”
Not giving any choice.

“I’m leaving for the airport NOW.
My phones I really need!”
The cabbie says he’ll drive on by,
A real do-gooder deed.

Then suddenly another ring
Proceeds from in the rear.
The guy said phones, a plural,
So another must be near.

Voila! Behind my husband’s back
A second phone I find.
The cabbie takes it, drops us off,
Reunion on his mind.

I surely hope he makes it
And the phone guy makes his flight.
The cabbie earned a giant tip
If all works out all right.

It’s lucky I’m an honest sort
‘Cause I could not ignore
The fact that both those phones
Were better than my iPhone 4!

Flannel

On freezing days, I turn to fleece
To wear beneath my down;
And wool or corduroy might work
When traipsing through the town.

But there’s an oft-forgotten cloth
That also can perform
By keeping those who use it,
Day or nighttime, snug and warm.

Yes, flannel is of what I speak;
It’s great for shirts and sheets,
Yet no one touts its virtues –
Not in odes or texts or tweets.

So let me be the first to write
Of flannel’s cozy charms.
It’s comfortable enveloping
Or underneath my arms.

If winter were a TV show,
We’d likely change the channel;
But since we’re stuck with it for now,
To help us, we’ve got flannel!

Suburban Life

Suburban life is quiet.
It's as peaceful as can be;
And out the window is the sky
And every type of tree.

The snow is white and blinding,
Though it's on the ground for days.
The lifestyle is deserving of 
The highest form of praise.

There's lots of room for roaming
In the houses and the yards,
Befitting ode or sonnet
Penned by amateurs or bards.

Suburban life's delightful.
From the noise and crowds you're free;
But I'm a city gal and so
It's not the life for me.

Fringe Benefits

My aunt made me a knitted shawl
Which keeps me warm and snug;
I wrap it ‘round my shoulders
And it’s cozy as a hug.

It’s better than a bathrobe
Or a sweatshirt or a vest;
When I’m cold in my apartment,
It’s the warmer I love best.

It’s been worn for many winters
Though it doesn’t show much wear;
When its fringes take to fraying,
Even then I will not care.

Certain articles of clothing,
Though they sag or fall apart,
Never stray from drawer or closet
For they tug upon the heart.

The Day After

The new-fallen snow looks so lush
As it silences us with a hush;
     But the tires and the boots
     Seem to be in cahoots
Turning all of that beauty to slush!

Killing Two Birds

Today’s a day to celebrate
But most do not observe;
It’s Squirrel Appreciation Day,
Which they don’t quite deserve.

Just rodents with appealing tails,
They’re tricky birdseed thieves
And once a squirrel finds your yard,
He never really leaves.

It’s also National Hug Day,
Named in 1986.
To honor both these holidays,
You might be in a fix.

Yet here’s a good solution –
If a squirrel is in sight,
Just grab his tail and give a hug
But careful – he may bite!

Losing Track

Once you are retired
(And there is no going back),
The days are interchangeable
And you keep losing track.

Monday feels like Friday
Or like Saturday, perchance;
You’re never certain ‘til
Upon the calendar you glance.

It’s slightly disconcerting
But it’s cutting loose, as well.
Each day is like another,
All the same and parallel.

A part of me still misses, though,
When I could really say
TGIF was reason for
A hearty hip-hooray!

Scenes from Sandy

The pictures taken of the storm
Showed scenes quite different from the norm:
Rising waters, surging tides;
Houses tipped upon their sides.

Dishes turned into debris;
Roller coaster in the sea.
Homes stripped bare or filled with mud;
Shoes and clothing caked with crud.

Faded photos, wedding dresses;
Heads of dolls with missing tresses.
Furniture with frames destroyed;
Hopes and dreams all null and void.

Every image sad and tragic,
Proof of Nature’s evil magic.
City of New York Museum –
Great exhibit – go and see ‘em…

Spoiler Alert

I rarely watch a TV show
The first time that it airs.
With On-Demand and TiVo,
If I catch it late – who cares?

But sometimes there’s a lot of hype,
Like when a season ends,
And then it’s hard to block the news
From articles or friends.

So “Homeland’s” big finale,
Which was several weeks ago,
Remained to me a secret
(Don’t read more if you don’t know).

I guess I should have figured,
Just by following the thread,
That there’d be no happy ending
But my goodness – Brody’s dead!

I suppose I am the last to learn
This news that others had;
Still, I haven’t even started
Season One of “Breaking Bad!”

Larry

For years, we went for Chinese food
Most every Friday night;
Our sons, best friends both then and now,
Made sure that we’d unite.

But conversation always flowed
For Larry kept things fresh,
Ensuring that both kids’ and grown-ups’
Talk was sure to mesh.

From sports to work to politics,
The theater or the news,
His love of life from all his pores
Did readily effuse.

A diehard baseball lover
And an athlete from his youth,
A highlight of his childhood was
A catch with – yes, Babe Ruth!

His patients and his softball league
And friends kept life exciting,
But Larry couldn’t rest until
He’d published all his writing.

Just Stories is his legacy,
Of which he was so proud
And if you’d read a tale or two,
I’m sure that you’d be wowed.

Though Larry fought the bravest fight,
No matter what the cost,
The cancer finally had its way
And sadly, Larry lost.

I’ll not forget this gentle soul,
A caring, special friend,
Who brightened everybody’s days
Until the very end.

Checking In

It’s wonderful when friends check in
When something’s out of whack.
It lets you know that there are people
Who have got your back.

An email, phone call or a text
Is all it really takes
So you're aware somebody’s up
For any news that breaks.

We all lead busy lives and so
It’s special and it’s rare
When relatives and friends reach out,
Reminding us they care.

Race Against Time

Other needs are cast aside;
Phone calls unreturned.
Invitations all denied;
Friends become concerned.

Two weeks’ time is not enough;
I’ll never get it done.
Guess I’m just not up to snuff,
But then, is anyone?

Three times longer than the rest,
Too wanted to renew;
I’m loving it, but I am stressed –
My library book is due!

Mulch

Approaching the park, I smelled a smell;
My senses knew it rang a bell.
A whiff said pine, a Christmas scent
But Christmas came and Christmas went.

And then I saw a giant pile,
A pile of mulch, which made me smile,
For every single chopped-up tree,
I’m certain, had a pedigree

And decorated someone’s room
With ornaments and tart perfume
And gifts beneath the branches piled
To thrill each woman, man and child.

Yet once discarded, all that pine
Still serves in Nature’s grand design,
To feed the soil and fill the air
With fragrance quite beyond compare.

Bully

There once was a bully who ruled
Thinking, man, he had everyone fooled.
            He did as he pleased
            With the power he seized
Sure that he’d never be ridiculed.

But the people who suffered his blows
Were delighted at what I suppose
            Was a foolish mistake
            For a bully to make
That reporters found ways to expose.

Now the papers all print up the news
Leaving readers to weigh things and choose
            If this bully should leave
            For most opt to believe
Such behavior he cannot excuse.

The moral, of course, hits a nerve
For most bully-types rarely observe
            That they cannot defend
            Hurting those they offend
And their punishment’s what they deserve.

Classmate

A former classmate of my son’s,
A writer with success,
Not long ago gave in to demons
He could not suppress.

Just thirty-two years old, he was,
With wife and son of two,
He climbed up to the roof and jumped,
A desperate thing to do.

I’d heard about it, but today
I saw The Times obit;
His image in the paper
Somehow made it more legit.

How sad for all his family,
For his friends, his son, his wife,
To lose someone who had so much
To live for in his life.

We may lose touch with classmates,
Even those we once called friend,
Yet still it’s hard to hear of one
With such a tragic end.

Slippers

I never wear slippers, 
Though most people do;
I don't feel in need of
An in-the-house shoe.

When plodding around,
My feet often go bare
Or they're covered with socks
Which, in winter, is fair.

Though slippers look cozy,
They aren't for me
And that's just the way
That I want it to be.

We each have our preferences - 
Thus, I suppose,
If you happen to visit, 
Expect to see toes!

First Giggle

The radio was playing blues;
I danced and in my arms
My 3 month grandson focused on
Exuding all his charms.

But suddenly to my surprise
A brand-new trick emerged - 
A flat-out giggle, loud and clear
And oh, my heart just surged.

He giggled then a bunch more times
So his intent was clear - 
The music and the movement
Set his giggle track in gear.

I will not witness all his firsts
But this one was a thrill,
For laughter is a trait of which
I'll never get my fill.

Plastic

England's joined a club of countries
Doing something drastic - 
They've disposed of paper money
And have switched to plastic!

Bills will last much longer
And a major benefit
Is that it's near impossible,
With these, to counterfeit.

Still, there will be many
Who will have to be consoled
When they make the discovery
Their cash they cannot fold.

And for all those creative types,
You might as well abstain
From using pounds and pence to make
An origami crane!

To Schmooze

It's hard to schmooze
Without some booze - 
A cocktail or a beer;
Though I'd excuse
If you'd refuse - 
Just let me make that clear.

A little drink,
I really think,
Helps people to connect;
And with that link
As troubles shrink,
All feelings seem correct.

What matters most
From coast to coast
Is sipping with some class;
So let us toast
And thank our host - 
It's time to raise a glass!

Forsooth

Forsooth! My husband lost a tooth.
The fairy never showed.
He called the dentist, figuring
Some loyalty was owed.

The secretary set a date
But since we are away,
He could pick up some dental glue
To last another day.

Instead, since he is not in pain,
My husband chose to wait.
A brand-new crown is what he needs
And what is on the slate.

Until that time, the tooth remains
Wrapped up in silver foil.
Although to parts original,
I guess you should be loyal...

There comes a time when you must cede
Your body parts to age.
A chapter ends and though reluctant,
You must turn the page.

Security Check

When visiting my aunt,
We always bring a special treat.
It's halva made from sesame,
A Middle Eastern sweet.

But very often, it gets flagged
'Cause agents have no clue
Exactly what this item is;
Our bags do not go through.

They took my husband's backpack
And removed things, one by one,
As if they thought they'd find a knife
Or liquids or a gun.

Instead, the female TA
Reached inside and she did seize
Our wrapped up treasure and she asked,
"What is this? Looks like cheese."

My husband nodded, yes it is,
'Cause if he did explain
It's candy from the Middle East -
What could we really gain?

They placed it on the X-ray belt,
In their unsmiling mode,
To double-check the piece of "cheese"
Would somehow not explode.

At least they waved us on, but when
We pack our next surprise,
We'll pick a treat my aunt will love
And agents recognize!

Blowing My Mind

My high school boyfriend had a band,
The Jagged Edge by name.
In local circles, I suppose,
They garnered some acclaim.

I hadn’t thought of them in years
So was surprised to find
An email from my brother, saying
“This will blow your mind!”

A YouTube link and there they were –
Their photo and his voice.
I have to say my mind was blown –
It didn’t have a choice.

We can’t relive those days gone by
But man, it is a blast
To tap into technology
And peek into the past.

Local

An English pub’s a perfect place
To sip an IPA.
Its cozy vibes can warm you
On a windy wintry day.

I do not live in England
But Manhattan’s where you’ll find
Whatever type of restaurant
Or bar you have in mind.

And that is why I found myself
Indulging in a draft
Inside a quite convincing pub,
With English servers staffed.

My spouse and I both ordered pints
With sausages and fries.
(In London, they’d be “bangers”
Served with “chips,” I would surmise).

But still, it came just close enough
That, with each frothy sip,
We could pretend we’d crossed the pond
To Britain, on a trip.

Yet when we paid the bill, of course,
There were no pounds or pence.
A fantasy just goes so far
And then it makes no sense.

Reality has upsides, though,
And here’s where this one led –
A few blocks walk on New York streets
And straight to my own bed!

Self-Assembly

It comes with the instructions
Listing every single step
And if there is a problem,
You can call the service rep.

The hardware's all included - 
Every nut and bolt and nail - 
Yet still, when self-assembling,
You should prepare to fail.

For few stay calm when things don't work
And many go ballistic.
My theory is the manufacturers
Are just sadistic.

So somewhere in a foreign land,
They pack a few wrong screws
Or illustrate instructions
In a way meant to confuse.

And then they sit around and laugh
As boxes leave the shelves,
Filled with stuff they know we can't
Assemble by ourselves.

There's only one solution
And although you'll pay much more,
The next time, purchase something
Put together in the store!

Down the Road

You won't remember that you slept
All curled up on my chest;
Or how you smiled on seeing me,
Which made me feel the best.

The hours that I held you,
Fed you, burped you, changed your clothes
Will surely be forgotten
As they should be, I suppose.

Your babyhood will disappear
Before I've had my fill
And you'll remember none of it
But my sweet boy, I will.

January First

The champagne's all been guzzled.
The fireworks have burst.
The calendar has been replaced - 
It's January first.

In plans and resolutions
We all have been immersed.
It's time for starting over, fresh -
It's January first.

Belaboring a point cannot
Be easily reversed,
So let me just acknowledge - wow!
It's January first!