Re-Booking

I hate to throw a book away
When I no longer need it
For it might make another’s day
If he’d the chance to read it.

In cleaning out my children’s shelves
I made a giant stack-up.
If they had done it by themselves,
They’d put them all right back up.

But they’re not here, so I’ll decide
Which ones are worth bestowing
As soon as I am satisfied
I like the place they’re going.

Two favorite books have covers gone –
Will someone still accept them
Or will they ditch them, whereupon
I’ll wish that I had kept them.

It’s hard to part with such old friends.
They brought us so much pleasure
But hopefully their time extends
As someone’s new-found treasure.

Wash Before Wearing

Do you wash before wearing?
Well, I never do
But society says
What I do is taboo.

On the label is written:
A cold water wash
Is what we recommend.
(Or you’ll suffer, by gosh!)

The dye in the fabric
May seep to your skin
Or the garments that share
The machine that it’s in.

Do I follow instructions
Or stick to my guns?
Will I look like a Na’vi*
From color that runs?

These blue jeans are dark
So perhaps their advice
Should be taken to heart
Or I’ll pay a steep price.

It’ll be the first time
That I’ve followed the rule
But an obstinate sort
Sometimes looks like a fool!

*blue-skinned creatures from “Avatar”

Ankle Bracelets

When I was a teen, an ankle chain
Was given by one ready
To show the world that as a couple,
They were “going steady.”

It often came in gold, with hearts
On which one could engrave
The sweethearts’ names, a token meant
To cherish and to save.

I never had one then but now
My ankle always sports
A bracelet (never made of gold);
I purchase varied sorts.

A few are made of beads and one
Boasts tiny chiming bells.
I buy them for myself
When opportunity compels.

The only signal they give off,
Unlike my teenage years,
Is that the wearer (me!) enjoys
The way each one appears.

The Coppertone Girl

There once was a girl
In the Coppertone ad
And her dog pulled her bathing suit down;
So her pale little butt
Was exposed by the mutt
Though the rest of her body looked brown.

It was harmless and sweet
And offensive to none
So for years it made Coppertone's name;
But society's changed
And for people deranged
What was innocent's not quite the same.

Now the Coppertone girl,
While her doggie still tries
To perform the same stunt he once did,
Looks abashed, but for what?
For this time he had not
Been successful at making his bid.

Though his little teeth nip
At her suit, he cannot
Bare her tush for the whole world to see.
It's a sign of the times
That because of some crimes
What was cute once no longer can be.

At the Music Fest

A shady spot, a comfy seat,
A quiet crowd, a breeze
And music played so sweetly
It could bring you to your knees.

An ice cream cone, a friendly buzz
Of fans and families strolling
And folks when asked to sing along
Not needing much cajoling.

The Milford Music Fest rolls ‘round
One weekend every year.
I always feel so fortunate
When I can make it here.

The Humble Square

My favorite quilting shape’s a square;
It’s simple, quick to stitch and spare.
Such plainness shouldn’t be ignored,
For it can form a checkerboard.

This pattern’s friendly and it’s neat.
To quilt beginners, it’s a treat.
Each square attaches to the next;
No circle folds, which leave me vexed.

A rectangle’s not bad to sew;
It lacks the square’s attraction, though.
And triangles can be a pain;
I seek those perfect points in vain.

Next time you see a quilt, please note
The shapes and think of what I wrote -
For every quilter everywhere
Got started with a humble square.

Brexit

So Britain's made its exit
From the Union it was part of.
No one can predict what this
Will really be the start of.

Hits to the economy?
A government in flux?
Changes in the worth of pounds,
Of Euros and of bucks?

Political upheavals
As the EU muddles on?
Equilibrium upset
With Britain really up and gone?

It's way too complicated, though,
For me to understand.
I watch the news but just don't have
The facts at my command.

The commentators slyly
Have some questions up their sleeve.
My favorites are "Will Portugo?"
And, too,  "Will Italeave?"

Offspring

On this date some years ago
A mother I became
And everything I thought I knew
Has never been the same.

To bring a life into the world’s
Miraculous and brave,
With claims upon your heart
That child will instantly engrave.

And watching as he navigates
The paths along his way
Will bring joy and much anxiety.
(No wonder hair turns gray!)

Yet as years progress, you’ll fill
With such an overwhelming pride
That the person he’s become
Was once the babe you held inside.

So a happy birthday, offspring,
Now with children of your own.
Hope you’ll feel the way that I do
Years from now when they are grown.

The Royal Guard

Saw a photo in The Times –
The Royal Guard on view,
With tall black hats and perfect posture –
Nothing very new.

But on the ground nearby there lay
A member of the group
Who’d fainted ‘cause his furry hat
Most likely made him droop.

The heat was quite intense that day.
The fact that he was prone
Was not a big surprise, but he
Was passed out all alone.

Not one stiff soldier broke the ranks
To lend a helping hand,
For courtesy just doesn’t count
As much as a command.

A picture’s worth a thousand words,
As the expression goes.
If that were me, I’d not forgive
The guards in those neat rows.

Under Lock and Key

The eyeglass store’s brand new; it moved
From just across the street.
The stock is current, fresh and cool;
Displays are nice and neat.

But unlike some establishments,
Its style is from the past.
The frames are under lock and key,
Although the choice is vast.

So every time I saw one
I’d consider for myself,
A store employee with a key'd
Unlock the drawer or shelf.

He’d watch me as I’d try it on
And wait for my decision.
My interest waned beneath the weight
Of constant supervision.

In other shops the customer
Is left to his devices
To try on every single pair
That possibly entices.

I left the store with my old glasses
Perched upon my face.
My search will now continue
At a far more trusting place.

Bohemian Rhapsody

When you’re trapped in traffic, at a crawl
And want to scream or curse or bawl,
The radio relief can bring
If there’s a song which you can sing.

My all-time favorite in the car,
From rock & roll’s deep reservoir,
To help my traffic-stress release
Is Queen’s amazing masterpiece.

I belt it out at fever pitch
And to falsetto I can switch.
The highway seems to melt away;
I’m underneath the lyrics’ sway.

And when I hear the ending phrase
I shake myself out of a daze
So grateful that this classic song
Has made my trip a tad less long.

For the Dads

The chipmunks are oblivious
And so, too, are the birds.
I doubt if they would even care
If they could speak in words.

But humans and their calendars,
At least where I reside,
Know Fathers' Day's upon us;
By the rules we must abide.

A card or call's expected
And perhaps a little gift.
It needn't cost a fortune
But should give your dad a lift.

A barbecue's de rigueur
And the drink of choice is beer
To make the masculinity
Of this day very clear.

So here's to all the dads around
With grandpas, too, included.
Enjoy your burgers and your brews,
Though chipmunks are excluded.

My Planters

Each year when the summer is nigh
I drag out my planters and buy
     Some flowers to plant
     But somehow I can't
Make them grow, though I really do try.

I gently tamp down all the soil.
With watering, I am quite loyal.
     While others' plants thrive
     Mine are barely alive;
All my efforts Ma Nature does foil.

Still, just planted they look pretty good.
If they lasted, the way that they should,
     I'd be shocked as they come
     'Cause my never-green thumb
Would have done what I'd hoped that it would.

Last Day Preschool Picnic

At the last day preschool picnic
There were blankets on the grass
Which the tots ran over freely
If that way they had to pass.

There were pastel-frosted cupcakes
(Health food banished for a day)
And the slides and sandbox filled with kids
In joyous outdoor play.

But the draw for my two grandkids
Was the singer with guitar
For when music's in the air, I know
They won't be going far.

So as Henry spun and boogied
And his sister bopped along,
I was grooving like a back-up singer,
Knowing every song.

Three days back I was in Venice
And the vistas were entrancing
But there's nothing that looks better
Than my grandkids when they're dancing.

A Tragedy

A family on vacation
At a Disney World hotel
Had their holiday cut short
As paradise turned into hell.

Their 2 year old dragged under
By a croc in a lagoon
And his little life was ended
Way too sadly and too soon.

Seems the signs of warning posted
Weren’t strong enough to heed.
Guess today there isn’t any place
Where safety’s guaranteed.

My Last Gelato

I guess we get what we deserve
But Delta has a lot of nerve
To serve “gelato” with their meal
As if the stuff were somewhat real.

The days I spent in Italy,
Gelaterias luring me,
Have spoiled me truly and I’ll miss
My daily double scoop of bliss.

Departing Venice in the rain
I knew that I would e’er remain
A fan of this Italian treat
And bogus versions can’t compete.

My trip is over; once I’m home
There’ll be no new gelato poem
But here’s to all that I enjoyed –
Guess Haagen-Dazs will fill the void!

In Venice (Gelato #9)

Narrow streets that block the light
Bridges spanning everywhere
Gondoliers in black and white
Pigeons in Saint Marco Square

Churches and Venetian glass
Synagogues from ghettoed Jews
Tourists you can barely pass
Everywhere - amazing views

Carts with vendors' souvenirs
Cool cafes to have a snack
When gelato time appears,
There will never be a lack.

Deep red berry on my cone
Next to hazelnut did mix.
Back at home I'll fret and moan
'Cause I'll miss my daily fix.

Travel opens up our eyes
To places different and unique
And every trip grants some surprise
Like my Italian ice cream streak.

Juliet's Balcony (Gelato #8)

We hit Verona in the rain
But spirits didn't dampen, so
We walked the marble streets where once
Lived Juliet and Romeo.

The history is everywhere -
In buildings, towers, monuments,
Though fancy modern stores, of course,
Have infiltrated somehow hence.

Gelaterias thrive as well, 
Biscotto was my second pick
With hazelnut (nocciola here);
I savored every single lick.

Our walking tour guide pointed out
A synagogue, a real surprise.
With all the churches I have seen,
This opened up my Jewish eyes.

I also learned that Romeo
And Juliet were likely real.
No matter if they were or not,
Her balcony has mass appeal.

We fought the crowds and snapped the shot,
The words of Shakespeare in my mind,
For lovers always seek the spot
Where true romance has been defined.

The Yachts (Gelato #7)

Moored in Portofino
Are a bunch of gleaming yachts,
Reminding us that they're the haves
And we're the poor have-nots.

Their owners shop in high-class shops
And dine among their peers
While tourists come by boat or bus
To buy some souvenirs.

With prices slightly higher here,
Gelato still tastes fine.
Both caramel and hazelnut
Filled up a cone of mine.

At leaving time I'll board the bus
And bid the yachts farewell,
Returning to my hotel room
Where normal people dwell.

A Shady Spot (Gelato #6)

We found a shady spot to sit
And gaze out at the sea
Or people watch on Monterosso,
Here in Italy.

We sailed to Cinque Terre,
Five small towns along the coast
Which hug the mountains charmingly
And hordes of tourists host.

We strolled the streets and alleyways,
Gelato for my lunch -
Both hazelnut and amarena
(Cherry is my hunch).

The sun was strong but soon we found
A copse of flow'ring trees
And settled in to soak the scene up,
Grateful for the breeze.

We met some locals and, as well,
New Zealanders on tour.
The sea, gelato, conversation -
Who could ask for more?

German Pretzels (Gelato #5)

A rest stop break and next to us
A group of German folken.
The universal language
Filled with gestures soon was spoken.

Perhaps a food tour? All were
Apron-clad and eating lunch
And drinking wine and laughing
As they'd sip and talk and munch.

My husband shrugged and pointed,
Meaning, What? No food for me?
A laden plate and glass of wine
Were offered instantly.

Our bus mates wandered over
And the party did expand
As giant German pretzels
Found their way to every hand.

You just need one brave soul to cross
The line and break the ice.
The payoff may be food or smiles
But either way, it's nice.

P.S. To keep the record straight,
Both licorice and hazelnut
Gelato found their happy way
Into the pathways of my gut!

Phone Weather (Gelato #4)

Your phone will inform you
Of possible rain
But armed with this knowledge,
How much will you gain?

To tote an umbrella
Or not, you must ask
And if you are wrong
You'll be taken to task.

We traveled today
To a charming Swiss town
Expecting that raindrops
Would come pelting down.

The sky, though, was sunny
To soak up the views
Of both mountains and lake;
We did not have to choose.

And Lugano, though Swiss,
Is Italian as well
So I found lots of shops
With gelato to sell.

A hazelnut cone
With some chocolate dripped on
Was my choice for today;
It was too quickly gone.

Oh, and back on the bus
It soon started to pour
For a very brief time -
Guess the phone knew the score!

Third Gelato

Walking in Milano
On a guided city tour,
I wasn't really certain
What delights would be in store:

A castle (or castello)
Which displayed, as quite a perk,
An unusual Pieta,
Michelangelo's last work.

A massive carved cathedral
And a mall with fancy shops
Filled with Prada and Armani
(Not my normal browsing stops)

And a modern art museum
With some wonderful displays,
Such a pleasure to encounter -
Worthy of a tourist's praise.

But let's not forget the topic
That's inspired this day's rhyme -
Yes, of course I had gelato
With 3 flavors at this time.

Hazelnut ('cause that's a given)
And pistachio to boot
With red raspberry I added
Just to try a little fruit.

When I think of this vacation
I will fondly look on back
With gelato as my guidepost,
Keeping memories on track.

Second Gelato

Hazelnut, again, but this time
Coconut was shelved
And chocolate the new flavor
Into which I gladly delved.

Como was the town, right on
The very famous lake,
A place I'd always hoped to see
On trips I'd planned to take.

My father served in WWII
And this is where he fought,
At least that is the info
'Bout the war which I was taught.

He didn't like to talk of it
And certainly, I'm sure,
He never got to see the lake -
The tourists' biggest lure.

But now I'm in Bellagio,
A boat ride 'neath my belt,
Imagining my dad so young
And wond'ring what he felt.

I wish he'd had at least a chance
To taste my favorite treat;
I'm making up for what he missed
With every cone I eat.

First Gelato

So here I am in Lecco,
An Italian lakeside town -
Charming, quaint and so idyllic
No one seems to wear a frown.

What could make the day more perfect?
Keep me in that happy zone?
Why, the answer's very simple -
Some gelato in a cone!

With gelaterias popping up
On every other block,
I could sample every flavor
Every hour 'round the clock.

But I chose a shop at random,
Picked 2 flavors that I love
And the taste was so delicious
It beat manna from above.

I'll be touring through the country
And one thing I guarantee -
Not a day will pass without a fresh
Gelato cone for me!

Out of the Pool

A public swimming pool is closed
Some hours every week
Allowing pious women in
With men denied a peek.

Religions are entitled to
Whatever rules they choose
But not when their conditions
Cause some other groups to lose.

A swimming pool that’s public
Means it’s open to us all.
Excluding certain people
Violates the protocol.

For those who’ll only swim
When in a modest no-man zone,
The answer is to build a private
Pool club of their own.

Muhammad Ali

I knew him first as Cassius Clay,
“The Greatest,” as he claimed.
His many titles proved that he
Was accurately named.

He “floated like a butterfly”
Yet he was brash and bold.
He stung opponents “like a bee”
And left a few out cold.

Although a boxer through and through,
You might say to the core,
The one place he refused to fight
Was in the Viet Nam War.

He lost his license for that stand,
Excluded from the ring
For several years, but then returned
Triumphant as a king.

His years of taking endless hits
Led sadly to disease,
For even as “the greatest”
Life provides no guarantees.

I’m not a fan of fighting sport
In any form, but yet
I’ll mourn Ali, the fearless champ
The world will not forget.

Pouches

A pouch is where a joey
Of a kangaroo resides
And pouches are the bulges 
'Neath your eyes that make-up hides.

Another type of pouch is one
We carry 'round the waist
And baby food's in pouches now.
(The jars have been replaced.)

It fascinates me when a word
Adds meanings through the years.
I guess that compensates for every
Word that disappears.

Selfish Drivers

Selfish drivers crowd the roads
And disregard the rules
As if the highway signs are there
For idiots or fools.

They ride the exit lanes although
That isn’t in their plan
And nose into a non-existent space
Because they can.

Of course, they drive the biggest cars
To bully those who don’t.
Intimidation works in times
When courtesy just won’t.

It’s never fun in traffic
When conditions are adverse
But selfish drivers make
The situation even worse.

Sgt. Pepper

When Sgt. Pepper hit the air
The world sure paid attention -
Forty-nine long years ago,
A fact that’s worth a mention.

For Beatles fans it was a shock
To see how they’d evolved
And people looked for clues like they were
Puzzles to be solved.

We learned the songs and listened for
Some evidence of drugs
Reflected in the lyrics;
Those more hip replied with shrugs.

The music ushered in a time
When all the status quo
Was shaken to the core by those
Just going with the flow.

To me, this album represents
The 60’s crystallized;
Horizons were expanding,
Both exalted and despised.

But those of us who rode the wave,
Excited by the new,
Realized Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band
Came right on cue.