Futile

I need a new TV stand
So I searched for one on Google,
Deciding in advance that I
Would splurge and not be frugal.

I bounced from site to site before
I found one so ideal,
In every way it fit the bill –
Too perfect to be real.

My gut reaction was the truth,
My quest to no avail; 
Though it was beyond compare,
It just wasn’t up for sale.

See, a craftsman who’s a novice
With a talent for design
Did construct just what I wanted,
But it’s his instead of mine.

It was posted on the website
Of a woodwork magazine,
Which the Google team decided
Should appear upon my screen.

Oh, to find and lose an item
So much better than the rest
Means that now I’ll have to settle
For what’s clearly second best.

Custard

Today I had some custard
But it didn't cut the mustard
Though I really thought that it would be the best.
Guess you can't make an assumption
Based on ice-cream loving gumption
That what looks impressive must leave you impressed.

So the next time I'll be cautious;
Though this didn't make me nauseous,
It was mediocre and not up to snuff.
A prediction's surely wasted
'Cause until your tongue has tasted
All that other information's not enough.

Touché

I hate when someone says I snore
And then I hate it even more
When it is said with mirth and glee
To poke a little fun at me.

We can’t control our sleeping sounds
So ridicule is out of bounds
And that is why I should not tell
My husband that he snores as well!

Inside Someone's Head

We never know what’s brewing
Inside someone else’s head,
For from skeins of thoughts we might be privy
To a single thread.

I assumed we learned to hide our feelings
As we grew in age,
But our blocking instincts must kick in
At quite an early stage.

When you hang out with a baby,
It’s surprising to discern
That what’s going on within his mind
You have no way to learn.

So communication’s glitches
Are apparent from the start,
But we’re closer to enlightenment
When we’re in someone’s heart.

The Antique Store

The store was filled to bursting,
Every item an "antique,"
A place to stop and browse
If it's nostalgia that you seek.

I squeezed myself between the rows
Of shelves piled to the ceiling,
But absolutely nothing
Was the slightest bit appealing.

I watched the other customers
Yet really, who'd a thunk
That so many would be interested
In someone else's junk!

Neighbors

How nice to have a neighbor
You can visit just by walking,
To share a lovely evening with,
Both coffee-ing and talking.

No need to navigate the roads
Or run the gas tank dry
And you'll be back at home
One minute after your goodbye.

My friends are scattered all around
But nobody should knock
The value of a friendship 
With the people on your block!

Judging

Judges make decisions
Based on what they like and know;
Though we may disagree – oh well,
That’s just the way things go.

From tiny little contests
To affairs about the states,
The critics’ declarations
Often lead to great debates.

When their rulings, though, are reckoned,
Be assured that they won’t budge
For there’s dominance and power
In the calling of a judge.

Chanel

Why do people pay big bucks
For something by Chanel?
I realize that they’re selling to
A wealthy clientele…

But I really just don’t get it.
Every pocketbook or such
With that famous logo goes for
What most folks would say too much.

And by that, I’m talking thousands
Just to own, what seems to me,
Quite an ugly choice of purses
With a fancy pedigree.

Still, so many women want them
And I really wish I knew
What’s the root of their attraction,
For I haven’t got a clue.

Celebrity

He walks around my neighborhood
And no one gives a glance,
Though crowds would surely show
If they had notice in advance.

He’s always studying a script
And reading as he’s strolling,
But no one stops for autographs
Or fawning or extolling.

I see his face on advertisements
For his TV show;
In person he looks just the same,
His tan the perfect glow.

I wonder if this actor, though,
Is miffed or just surprised
That he walks the streets where he resides
And goes unrecognized.

Pursuit

Happiness is not a thing
That can be guaranteed.
Satisfaction is, we’re told,
In words we hear or read.

But in that famous document
Declaring we were free,
Pursuit of happiness was writ,
With life and liberty.

Yet finding what we want
Has no relation to pursuing,
For joy’s elusive and the search
Might lead to our ungluing.

The signers of the Declaration
Surely were astute
When they didn’t grant us happiness,
But only its pursuit.

Sun Spot

The setting sun was so surreal,
Suspended in the sky –
A rosy orange color,
Beauty no one could deny.

It looked enormous hanging there
And had a spectral glow,
Most resembling a backdrop
From a movie studio.

With some streaks of cloud across it,
It seemed anything but real,
Just a little trick that Nature,
That magician, might reveal.

Had my husband not suggested
That I give an upward glance,
I am sure I would have missed
This very special circumstance.

Road Construction

Two lanes are forced to merge to one
So traffic's slowly crawling;
On sunny summer weekends
Such delays are quite appalling.

For miles and miles we creep along - 
The cars, the vans, the trucks;
I think we'd all agree
That road construction really sucks!

Nurses

I see them heading off to work
With RN on their chests
And wonder if their day will bring
Some cardiac arrests…

Or IV drips or stats to check
Or tender reassurance,
All a part of patient care,
A test of one’s endurance.

Whatever comes a nurse’s way,
She’s always instrumental
In helping those who suffer,
If her manner’s calm and gentle.

And mornings, by the hospital,
Before their days unfold,
I’m curious if they might dwell
On what their shifts will hold.

The Beach

If you can reach a sandy beach,
It’s really quite relaxing.
A seagull’s screech or dripping peach
Might pass for something taxing.

The sun beats down, your skin turns brown;
The surfers ride their boards in.
A seaside town precludes a frown
And heaps lots of rewards in.

So if you can, work on your tan
And make a daytime visit,
For every man becomes a fan
In setting so exquisite.

A Pair of Shoes

It’s hard to find a pair of shoes
Both comfortable and chic.
I spent the whole day searching
So I know of what I speak.

For the footwear meant for walking
Often looks, at least to me,
Like it’s fashioned for the dowdy,
Just as plain as it can be.

What I want is something stylish,
With some spunk and some pizzazz,
But the sandals on display
Were more like opera, less like jazz.

So I’ll stroll around the streets again
With shoes that need replacing
While my quest resumes – it’s like
The Holy Grail I must be chasing!

All-Star

Jeter got two hits while in
His final All-Star game.
He got a huge ovation
As the crowd roared out his name.

Though afterwards, the pitcher claimed
He’d tossed some easy throws,
Like Derek wasn’t quite the hitter
Everybody knows.

But Jeter is a classy guy;
When told what Wainwright said,
He laughed and answered, “Thank him”
As he shrugged and shook his head.

The pitcher later stated
That he’d meant it as a joke;
Still, it’s hard to reel back in
The stupid words you spoke.

The baseball world won’t be the same
When Derek Jeter leaves,
For few can match the heart he puts
In all that he achieves.

Chocolate

I ate a piece of chocolate;
It was dark and hit the spot,
So I savored it quite slowly
And enjoyed it quite a lot.

There are some who splurge in secret,
Sneaking sweets in utter stealth,
But I eat my chocolate proudly
‘Cause it’s helpful to my health!

Holding Henry's Hands

Holding Henry’s hands as he
Perambulates the room
Imbues him with the power
Which he cannot quite assume.

He knows the basics – right foot, left,
But balance is elusive;
Desire, though, outpaces skill
So Nanas are conducive.

But very soon he’ll have the knack;
He won’t need my assistance
And then there’ll come a day
When holding hands will meet resistance.

And so for now we walk and walk,
His hands and mine connected,
Wherever he may lead until
This walking thing’s perfected.

What You Can Do

You only do what you can do
Or else you will regret it.
When people take on more than that,
I simply do not get it.

For we can handle just so much
Before we court disaster
And then the problems build and build
So crashing's that much faster.

We learn our limits by and by
For certainly we need 'em,
So older folk respect the warnings
And attempt to heed 'em.

It's great to push ourselves outside
The boundaries we've erected
But as we age, the consequences
May be unexpected.

Yellowjackets

I piled my plate with ribs,
Potato salad and pulled pork,
Then grabbed a beer, a napkin
And my plastic knife and fork.

The picnic table beckoned
So we sat to have our meal,
Not knowing that our dinner
Would turn into an ordeal.

For out of nowhere there appeared
A yellowjacket pair, 
Alighting on my plate, my food,
My beer, my hand, my hair.

Perhaps it was the honey
In the saucy-coated ribs
That attracted these invaders
Out to claim their rightful dibs.

I swatted and deflected them
But I could clearly see
That a peaceful, laid-back barbecue
This wasn't meant to bee!

At the Arcade

Place your coins in the machine
And watch the puppets dance
Or carousel go 'round and 'round,
The ponies all a'prance.

The fortune teller makes her guess;
The baseball players swat.
The circus comes to life
For just a quarter in the slot.

The old arcade is still alive
On San Francisco's pier,
So naturally, we did indulge
As long as we were here.

But I got taken by one game -
The name - "End of the Trail" -
A desert with a skeleton
And wagon, built to scale.

I wondered what my money
In that scene could make occur.
My quarter caused the shreds
Of wagon cloth to slightly stir.

Okay, it was a sucker's bet,
But how it made me grin!
Well worth the change I paid
To one who thought he reeled me in.

The Flight

The flight, supposed to leave at 6,
Departed much, much later
And to our few demands, the airline
Didn't really cater.

The reasons why were iffy - 
There was traffic, fuel was low,
But explanations didn't help - 
We wanted just to go.

They told us to deplane and take
Our bags and all our stuff.
A brand-new pilot's coming soon -
But not quite soon enough.

At last, half-past eleven,
We took off and hit the skies.
The passengers, exhausted,
Shut their lights and closed their eyes.

We got to our hotel at 3 a.m.,
Too pooped to pop.
The joys of airline travel - 
Well, they never seem to stop.

But still, we had a lovely day
Despite our tired state.
We're flying home on Sunday - 
Gee, I really cannot wait!

Jacket

My denim jacket’s kind of old;
It’s not the coolest style,
Yet it’s been worn for years
And will be here for quite a while.

It’s kinda loose and boxy
But it keeps away the chill.
I really should replace it
But I think I never will.

We sometimes get attached to clothes
And just can’t let them go.
My jacket’s almost retro now;
At least they tell me so…

Carry-On

I hate to check my luggage
When I’m about to fly.
I much prefer to carry-on
And here are reasons why -

My suitcase can’t get very lost
If it’s within my reach
And no one’s hands have riffled through,
An oft-occurring breach.

But mostly it’s a case of time –
I really hate to wait
Until the baggage carousel
Begins to activate.

And so I schlep my bag aboard;
My husband heaves it high
And hopefully, there’ll be a space
For it to occupy.

Waste Not

The leftovers were sitting there;
With just a little heating,
They’d make a perfect dinner,
One that I had planned on eating.

But there was just a tad too much
And yet out of the question
Was saving it, for by tomorrow
There’d be indigestion.

And so I nuked it all and ate;
My plate had several fills,
Which is the reason why I feel
Stuffed right up to the gills.

I could’ve thrown the extra out
But what I eat is based
Upon that old mentality
That food you shouldn’t waste.

So now I’m bursting at the seams
From everything I’ve tasted;
At least I’ll sleep content to know
No single crumb was wasted!

Fireworks on TV

Saw the fireworks on TV
Exploding o'er the city;
The river and the bridges
Made the scene look extra-pretty.

Yet it was not at all the same
As watching it outside,
When every boom that thunders
Makes the crowd electrified.

The television played some songs
With patriotic flair,
Renditions so pathetic
It was hard for us to bear.

I guess I can't complain too much - 
At least I saw the show,
But seeing it in person
Is the better way to go.

The Scientist

A different breed of human
Is the scientist, it seems,
For things beyond my ken
Compose the basis of his dreams.

While average people think about
Activities mundane,
The scientist may delve inside
The pathways of the brain.

In language I can't understand
The research gets explored;
Discoveries that knock his socks off
Leave the layman bored.

I'm grateful to the scientist
Whose pinpoint laser scope
Produces end results without which
We'd relinquish hope.

At the Podium

A speaker at a podium
Looks out upon a sea
Of faces, listening or not
To varying degree.

Some lecturers go on and on
And haven't got a clue
The audience is tuning out,
As folks are wont to do.

The power point display clicks by
With charts and lots of graphs;
It sure would be improved with just
Some repartee or laughs.

Of course, some people at the mike
Have really got the knack,
Possessing all the magnetism
Other speakers lack.

As someone in the conference crowd
It's always such a shock
When those presenting ramble on,
Despite the ticking clock.

It matters not how smart you are
Or what you might believe;
When lecturers drone on and on,
The crowd can't wait to leave.

Chandelier

My parents had a chandelier
When I was growing up,
Above the table in the room
Where company would sup.

Its crystal doodads dangled down
And sparkled in the light,
Creating quite a festive mood
When it was lit at night.

But cleaning it was quite a chore
And had to be entrusted
To someone up on tiptoe,
On a stepstool, to be dusted.

Plus once a year or so, I guess,
Each droplet got a bath,
Which adds to lots of hours of work
If you just do the math.

I always found that chandelier
Too gaudy for my taste,
A little bit pretentious
For the home where it was based.

Yet when I'm at a venue
With a glitzy chandelier,
I envision my old dining room,
My mem'ry crystal clear.

The Camera

The camera doesn’t lie, they say,
But it sure gives one pause
For there, upon the screen, are glaring
All a person’s flaws.

The saggy skin, the double chin,
The wrinkles, moles and dots;
A close-up lays it bare and man,
You might just want to plotz!*

I see why folks get camera shy –
It’s not that they’re aloof;
They know they’re not young anymore,
But hate to see the proof!

*faint, explode

A Downside of Adulthood

Whatever you discover,
It’s the grown-up thing to share it
And when others flaunt their joy in it,
You have to grin and bear it.

For there really is no reason
To keep secret what you’ve found
When some other folks can benefit
From how you’ve worked the ground.

Still, there might be some resentment –
Just a tiny little twinge –
When you hear of their enjoyment
While you’re stuck out on the fringe.

It’s a downside of adulthood
That to sulk’s not in good taste.
Suck it up, for generosity
Rarely is misplaced.