Philosophical

Every day's a question mark
And from the time that we embark 
Each hour keeps us in the dark
Of what may yet be waiting.

We stumble forward like the blind,
Aware that what we're like to find
May not be what we had in mind
(And maybe even hating).

For nothing's certain in this life;
So quickly, joy can turn to strife.
A word can cut us like a knife,
A truth not worth debating.

Dandelion Wishes

A dandelion is a weed
But with one puff, its seeds are freed,
Though what you really ought to know 
Is you should wish before you blow.

Will such a wish come true? It might
For as the fluffy stuff takes flight,
It scatters quickly on the breeze
And lands where not a soul foresees.

Perhaps it gently settles down
Upon the King of Wishes’ crown.
That seems a better bet to make
Than candle wishes from a cake.

Wait Listed

A friend passed on – not someone close
But someone I adored.
A service in her honor
I would never have ignored.

So when I heard, belatedly,
That there had been one planned,
In three days’ time, I reached out
To the person in command.

Explaining in an email
That I wanted to attend,
I thought for sure an invitation
She would thus extend.

Instead, in her reply she wrote
That there was just no room.
She’d add me to the wait list
With some others, I presume.

If she who’s being honored
Were alive, there is no doubt,
There’s no way anybody
Wanting in would be left out.

I understand a wait list
Must be started on occasion,
But not when someone’s death
Is factored into the equation.

Rain Boots

The rubber rain boots occupy
The cubbies, standing tall,
With ladybugs or butterflies
Or Superman on call.

The grown-up wellies line up, too,
In boring black or green.
I guess there's not a market for
A product in-between.

I haven't owned such rubber boots
To help my feet stay dry 
Since I was just a child
And today I realized why...

'Cause I'd prefer mine colorful
And sadly, I surmise 
They don't make ladybug-style boots
To fit my grown-up size.

The Catalogue

A children’s catalogue arrived
Along with other mail.
I don’t know why I got it;
That ship long ago set sail.

Of course, I am a nana;
There are grandkids I can spoil,
Although the sky-high prices
Made me shudder and recoil.

But what I found intriguing
Were some strange accessories
Which the editors decided
Would some city children please.

In a group of knitted pillows
For an urban habitat
Were a taxi and a hot dog
And a pigeon and a rat!

I’m as citified as anyone
But really, who’d presume
That a kid would want a rat
(Even one knitted) in his room?

Guess the editor decided
That such things are New York cool
Yet to this Manhattan nana,
It’s a choice made by a fool.

The Waitress

Our waitress appeared at our table
But really, we weren’t quite able
To settle if she
Could instead be a he
‘Cause some people resist such a label.

Her build was both muscled and strong
And looked like it didn’t belong
On a female, but hey,
With the lifestyles today
Our assumptions might simply be wrong.

Her nametag said Jack, but we knew
That it wasn’t enough of a clue
And her head was part shaved
But on top she had saved
Just enough so a bun was on view.

She was friendly and had a great smile
Though I wondered, through lunch, all the while
If she realized or cared
That when some people stared
They were questioning more than her style.

The Thing about a Scarf

The thing about a scarf is that
I know just how to buy one
But I don’t do it often ‘cause
I’m clueless how to tie one.

My friends look chic and classy
With a scarf around their throats.
For hiding saggy skin like mine
That style gets all my votes.

A neck stays warm when breezes blow
If it is scarf-protected
And sometimes boring outfits,
With a scarf, can be corrected.

Yet somehow I have never learned
The skills that are required
To knot a scarf so that my neck’s
A place to be admired.

We’re either born with savoir-faire
And everyone can spot
That stylishness so cool and hip
Or else, like me, we’re not.

On Shakespeare's Birthday

In Hamlet’s famed soliloquy,
“To be or” (maybe) “not to be,”
He questions life – is taking breath
A better deal than choosing death?

Another quote, among a slew,
Is this: “To thine own self be true,”
A brilliant and perceptive thought
Which few obey, though most are taught.

“We are such stuff as dreams are made on”
Actors cry on stages played on,
Which refers to both the play
And also to our lives each day.

Some Shakespeare gems to celebrate
His birthday, which was on this date.
Though some believe that’s all a sham,
I don’t! Am I a fan? Iamb!

Someone Else's Handiwork

The quilt upon my bed was stitched
By someone I don’t know.
My blue ceramic fish was formed,
Most likely, by a pro.

Some watercolors on my wall
Were painted by a friend
I met on a vacation
(Such good luck I’d recommend).

A wrought-iron scene, a stained-glass moon,
A mobile made of metal
All grace my home and help my mood
Improve to finer fettle.

I wonder if the artists think
About the crafts surrendered,
If it was worth the trade-off
For the compensation tendered.

I’d like to think they’re satisfied
That what they have created
Is there displayed in someone’s house,
Their talents celebrated.

Sock it to Me!

The store had lots of funky socks -
Nobody could have missed 'em.
The ones I chose had elephants -
Now, how could I resist 'em?

Another pair had cherries
And (the special called for 3),
I finished with an argyle
Made in colors just for me.

The men's collection rivaled 
What the women's had, I'd bet, 
The choices overwhelming;
You'd think all would buy them, yet...

Most people stick with solids -
Boring black or white or gray.
If only they would realize
How cool socks can make your day!

So next time you are shopping,
Give yourself a little treat
And see how you'll be uplifted
With some funk upon your feet.

Buying a Pillow

When buying a pillow
You have to keep track
If you sleep on your stomach
Your side or your back.

Do you want one with foam 
Like the memory kind
Or pure goose down from Europe,
The best you can find?

Is a zip-off type cover 
A perk that you need
Or one promised to last
Fifteen years guaranteed?

For you really can't tell
As you stand in the store 
Or peruse it online
On a pillow-hunt tour.

So you just take a gander
(Intentional pun!)
And you hope that you've chosen
A comfortable one.

Cool Dad

Strutting down York Avenue,
Appearing in a hurry,
His face is beatific,
Showing not a drop of worry.

With one child in his hand grasp
And another at his chest,
He seems a modern father
But he stands out from the rest.

It isn’t for his man-bun,
Rather for the clothes he wears –
Not jeans or sweats or khakis,
For it's leggings earning stares.

Today’s had printed donuts
Looking fattening and sweet,
While yesterday’s were swirled
With every color you might meet.

I wonder as his kids grow up
If they’ll think he looks cool
Or, as I perceived when others gaped,
More like a kingdom’s fool.

To Tell the Truth

A game show from the 60’s
Filmed, of course, in black and white,
Is something we’ve been watching,
Though its relevance is slight.

Contestants all pretend to have
A job that sounds real cool,
But two are just imposters
And the panel they must fool.

The panelists (all four of them)
Are famous in the arts
And get to ask some questions
Showing off their charm and smarts.

The answers to their queries
Help them guess who’s telling lies
And when the “real” contestant stands,
It’s always a surprise.

The setup is so innocent,
Back from another age,
When something oh-so-simple
Was enough to thus engage.

A little trip into the past
Reminds us how things were
With many aspects of that life
I really do prefer.

Lunch with an Old Friend

It’s really hard to stay in touch
With those you rarely see
And though you like them very much,
There is no guarantee

Connections won’t be severed;
Often life gets in the way.
The efforts you’ve endeavored
Sometimes don’t hold any sway.

For distance adds a wrinkle
When it’s multiplied by time
And add to that a sprinkle
Of the mountains you must climb.

When you calculate the factors
It’s a miracle, for sure,
When the Book of Life’s redactors
Somehow manage to secure

Just a quick and breezy meeting
With a friendship from the past
And, although it may be fleeting,
Happy thoughts will likely last.

When you start with a foundation,
Even one from long ago,
It makes sense that its duration
Will survive the ebb and flow.

Dilated

To dilate eyes
It isn’t wise
To feel surprise
At pupils’ size.

You must surmise
This truth applies –
The doc relies

On such a guise.

Don’t analyze
Or agonize
For facts arise
(And that’s the prize).

But time sure flies
And justifies
The sight that lies
Within our eyes.

Wanting In

The noise woke up my husband,
A banging on the glass -
A robin at the window
Like he held a forward pass.

He tried again repeatedly,
His desperation weird;
With flapping wings, like in “The Birds,”
Quite crazy he appeared.

We hung a scarecrow and a witch
(Some Halloween décor)
Across the pane to scare him
But he kept on like before.

I wondered if he’d rouse the troops,
Like Hitchcock, to attack,
Though just one titmouse showed
And he flew off, not coming back.

At last the robin gave it up,
Yet we will never know
Just what it was inside our house
He really wanted so.

East River Sighting

Nestled 'neath an overpass
A homeless guy camps out.
I pass his tent each morning
On my exercising route.

He has a lovely river view
And has no rent to pay,
Although it isn't quite the place
Where I would like to stay.

I rarely see him, but today,
Unfortunate for me, 
I caught him as he emptied out
His half-full jug of pee.

If ever you are tempted
To enjoy a river swim,
Heed my advice and find
Another venue for your whim.

This river's reputation
(Not a great one) stays intact
With this daily contribution
From a urinary tract!

Interlude

Shed the coat and hat and scarf
'Cause today, I'll bet,
If the sun comes out you will
Be drip-drip-dripping sweat.

Take a walk or grab your bike.
Note emerging blooms
Sprucing up the landscape
For the springtime, one assumes.

Just don't get too comfy;
Leave some sweaters in your drawers,
Since temps on Sunday will return
To those with winter's roars.

Lemon Bar

Had to kill a little time.
I hadn’t eaten much, so I’m
Quite ravenous, thus I do stray
To Barnes & Noble’s small café.

Among the cookies, muffins, cakes
(All stuff that Starbuck’s sells and bakes)
I notice what to me’s the star –
A lovely looking lemon bar.

“Please wrap one up, but ‘fore you do,
I’d like to have it cut in two.”
I look around and find a seat
In which to have my little treat.

It tastes as good as I’d expect
And helps my stomach’s gross neglect.
I eat just half to guarantee
That later, there’ll be more for me!

Light Drollery

The staff lounge had a posted sign
Hung prominently, by design.
It said, addressed to you and me,
“This room is for light drollery.”

I did a double-take and laughed
And wondered if I’d get the shaft
Or what reproof they might just levy
If my drollery got heavy.

Shakespeare would feel right at home,
Perhaps to rest or write a poem,
In such a place where to amuse
Too much is one of its taboos.

National Siblings Day

Today’s the day to celebrate,
Unless you are an “only,”
The people who, when growing up,
Prevent our being lonely.

We didn’t ask for them and yes,
Of course we had our fights,
But such a bond was formed it somehow
Still, today, unites.

So here’s to siblings, near and far!
It’s worthy of reflection
That even if our paths diverged,
There’s still a true connection.

Strings Attached

In many bakeries today
A cake is gently placed
Within a box that’s crisp and white,
A sign of class and taste.

But lately tape is used to shut
The top and keep it closed
So to the outside elements
No icing is exposed.

Still, some old-fashioned relics
Wouldn’t let you leave the shop
Without red and white swirled bakery string
Tied in a bow on top.

The string is on a roll the salesgirl
Wraps around the box.
If need be you could grab that string
And carry it for blocks.

And when you get it home your family
Knows that you did bring
Something really special they can try
With one snip of that string!

Healing

When you’re sick and you are reeling
Since with symptoms you are dealing
There is nothing more appealing
Than a “How you feeling?” note.

For while sickness has been stealing
Hours and days, it’s been revealing
Just who cares; there’s no concealing
Who forgot to cast a vote.

As your body starts its healing
And you’re back to even keeling
All concerned should know you’re feeling
Better ‘cause they called or wrote.

White Chocolate

It really isn’t chocolate;
At least that’s what I’ve read,
But rather a derivative,
Resembling it instead.

A mix of butter, sugar, milk,
Vanilla extract, salt;
Some people wouldn’t choose it
Except maybe by default.

But surely there are others
Who, like me, just like the taste,
Although, above dark bittersweet,
It never will be placed.

Still, there are some occasions
When I yearn for something sweet
And a bit of ivory chocolate
Is what I most want to eat.

Today's Poem

Here’s a sick day – lots of sleep,
Chicken soup and tea;
Reading (glad I like my book!),
“Homeland” on TV.

FaceTime with the grandkids
(Sad I wasn’t there);
Spending much more time in bed
Than on the couch or chair.

Hope I’ll wake tomorrow
Feeling so good I could shout it.
Though I’m doing better now,
I seriously doubt it.

Yesterday's Poem

This poem is for yesterday.
Though I write daily, come-what-may,
On rare occasions things don’t click;
It’s hard to write when feeling sick.

My symptoms came on in a blink.
In my distress, I couldn’t think
And so the hours drifted by;
As for my poem – I didn’t try.

So this is my apology
Though no one really cares but me.
I still feel sick but later, may
Compose the poem that’s for today.

Browsing the Antiques

In a store that sells antiques,
The past is much alive,
Including parts that we’d prefer
Did somehow not survive.

Some creepy dolls and ugly clothes
And jewelry I’d not wear
Forlornly grace the shelves without
Their one-time savoir faire.

But other items bring a smile
Or memory to bear –
A Popeye pin, some Beatles cards
And much Fiestaware.

Three typewriters with all their keys
Sit Royally encased
And lots of kitchen tools I wish
I never had replaced.

I troll the aisles quite aimlessly
For if you want the truth,
The only things I hope to find
Are traces of my youth.

A Birthday

Got lots of cards and lots of texts
And phone calls, some with singing,
All filled with happy birthday wishes 
Kith and kin were bringing.

A vase of purple tulips 
Made this rainy day delightful.
(My husband knows I love them 
So his choice was quite insightful.)

A visit to a pretty town
With shops just right for browsing 
Will segue to a hotel room
With views too nice for drowsing.

Tonight a dinner with some friends
Will cap the celebration,
For getting older's so much better
With collaboration.

Crazy Snow

This morning there was crazy snow
And Spring was someplace hiding,
But now the sun is out as though
Ma Nature is deciding.

Just make your mind up! Do we freeze
Or get the t-shirts ready?
This back and forth stuff does not please;
I’m shivering or sweaty.

When plans are canceled in a storm
It leaves us in a pickle.
They’re saying Wednesday will be warm -
If Spring stops being fickle!

April 1st

Today’s a day to break the rules
For mischief reigns – it’s April Fools’!
It’s time for silliness and pranks,
Though Easter may be pulling ranks
And also, we should not forget
That Passover’s not over yet.

This April 1^st you get to choose –
Forsake all bread like many Jews
Or don your bonnet and parade
Where Easter finery’s displayed
Or lastly, with a little poke,
Go out and play a harmless joke.

It isn’t often these converge
So take a chance – give in and splurge.
A dozen eggs will do the trick –
Just dye or boil – take your pick.
That covers both religions’ use
And as for April Fools’ – let loose!