News Fare

Our news fare, served up every day,
Is like the strictest diet
Of Covid stats, but now we have to
Add the latest riot.

You’d think that a pandemic
Would unite us but we seem,
In this country, more divided
Than in King’s most famous dream.

Maybe people needed something
To distract them from disease
Yet a protest doesn’t have to
Ratchet up to such degrees.

If perhaps we had a leader
Who displayed both strength and heart
We could battle through these crises
Without being torn apart.

In My Cocoon

We’re almost in June and within my cocoon
To dangers outside I might thus be immune.
With friends I commune when it seems opportune
And write poems or watch shows in the late afternoon.

With each passing moon I feel more out of tune
Finding less and less humor in every cartoon.
I yearn to break free like a let-loose balloon
But I wonder how soon’s just a little too soon?

Baseline Level

It’s always good to know, when well,
Your baseline, a technique
To determine when your body’s off,
For we are all unique.

So what your “normal” readings are –
For fever, pressure, weight,
Might then juxtapose with standards
And you’ll know what’s on your plate.

Thus, if you possess a speedy pulse
You doc won’t be alarmed
If, upon examination,
With this knowledge he is armed.

And that is why my son was calm,
Not needing my reproof,
When I told him I was stressed;
He knows my baseline’s through the roof.

“Joker"

Watched “Joker” on demand and hey -
The acting was amazing -
But what was best, you’ll understand,
Was that two hours of gazing

Transported me from all the stress
Defining my existence,
A trip to which, I’m sure you’d guess,
I offered no resistance.

I highly recommend this flick
For filmdom’s hocus-pocus,
When done so well as this can trick
Your mind to change its focus.

The Acrostic

The Sunday Times acrostic
Is a challenge I enjoy
But using what’s inside my brain
Is all that I’ll employ.

Which means, I will not Google
For the answer to a clue
Hoping somehow I’ll remember
It’s a fact that I once knew.

Who wrote “Peter and the Wolf” was on
The tip end of my tongue
Or the show where “Let Me Entertain You”
Is performed and sung.

I attempt to fill in letters
So the words will be revealed
And most often, with persistence,
Something in my mind will yield.

Which is why today, at 4 a.m.,
In anxious semi-sleep,
When solutions to those clues came,
Off the sofa I did leap.

And by filling in those spaces
The acrostic was complete,
Such a very welcome unrelated
Covid virus treat.

Now, of course, I’ve been awake since then
And it’s a long long day
But I’m grateful my anxiety
Was briefly kept at bay.

Dressing for the Day

Pajamas or nightgowns, to me, are to keep
People cozy and comfortable while they’re asleep.
When sheltering-in or on weekends before
Getting dressed needn’t be all that much of a chore.

For even just changing to sweatpants and tees
Makes things seem so much better, by more than degrees.
I feel much the same way about making the bed
Since not doing so can make despondency spread.

Though many may argue they do the same job
And both PJ’s and sweats make one look like a slob,
It’s psychology playing a sweet little trick
For pajamas in daylight make one appear sick.

In our homes, we’re in charge, so we wear what we choose
And if challenged to dress, we can flat-out refuse
But you’ll never find me in my sleeping attire
Past the morning, unless the apartment’s on fire!

Avian Visit

Two wayward pigeons settled
On the A.C. right outside.
Nine stories up, they strutted
With no place for them to hide.

We were surprised to see them;
They’ve not visited before.
Perhaps they meant to stop off
At a slightly lower floor.

I didn’t mind their presence
But my husband did, so “Shoo!”
One tap against the window pane
And off those pigeons flew.

Not Ready

Beaches are open and golf courses, too.
Neighbors are meeting for barbecue.
Barbers are snipping like they used to do
But I’m quarantining at home.

Nanas and grandpas are visiting kin.
Sports venues say they’re prepared to begin.
Sunbathers slather their pale indoor skin
While within my apartment I roam.

Restaurants keep tables a distance apart.
Museums let patrons with masks look at art.
So many are ready for life to restart
As I sit here, inside, with my poem.

The Neighbor's TV

I’m sleeping in the living room*
Which shares a common wall
With my next-door neighbor’s bedroom;
Shouldn’t bother me at all.

But she must be hard of hearing
‘Cause her TV’s more than LOUD.
I’m convinced that on her settings,
Higher volume’s not allowed.

It makes dreamland more elusive
As my shuteye is deferred
Since in TV conversations
I hear every single word.

And the other night, some screaming
Quickly jolted me awake.
When my heartbeat slowed, I realized
That the argument was fake.

Oh, I miss my bed and bedroom
Where the only noise I hear
Is the traffic and my husband’s breath,
Salvation to my ear.

*my husband is self-isolating with probable Covid-19

My Grandmother's Pearls

Read a folk tale to my grandson
In which kindness’ reward
Was, whenever the young maiden spoke,
Pearls from her mouth just poured.

Her evil sister’s punishment
Was toads instead of pearls,
The moral fairly obvious
For little boys and girls.

My grandson liked the story
And he understood the gist
But I realized there was something
That he likely might have missed.

For a pearl was unfamiliar,
Both in value and in looks
Though it sometimes does appear
In older fairy story books.

So I took my grandma’s necklace,
With its pearls, so white and cold,
And I held them to the camera
For my grandson to behold.

When bequeathing me her pearls
My grandma couldn’t have a clue
They’d connect to someone great great grand
And more than earn their due.

Every Other Table

As restaurants reopen,
Social distance rules in place,
There are choices to be made
About what diners will embrace.

Eliminate some tables?
Cordon off a few with rope?
Well, one owner found a special way
To help his patrons cope.

So at every other table,
As his customers get seated,
They might notice that by mannequins
Their glances will be greeted.

Dressed in costumes of the 40’s,
Looking elegant and frilled,
They create the false impression
That the dining room is filled.

Some may like this new arrangement
With its faux companionship,
But the waiters might object
To their imaginary tip!

Video Visit

For my video visit by phone
Where my doctor’s and my face were shown
All my questions got asked
And we both sat, unmasked,
In the comfort of places well-known.

We discussed medications and such
Without blood work (of course, there’s no touch)
But my face on the screen
(Ugh! You know what I mean)
Was the part that I hated so much!

Baked Potato

To cook a baked potato
You need lots and lots of time –
Enough to write a longer poem
Than this, and all in rhyme.

Mitch Hedberg,* in his deadpan way,
Joked with exaggeration –
Toss a spud into the oven and
Just go off on vacation.

He may be right – I baked one,
Eighty minutes by the clock,
But my husband took a bite and it
Was harder than a rock!

*one of my favorite comedians

Tooth Fairy Pillows

With some time on my hands
(Must I translate? I’m bored!)
I discovered material
That I had stored.

So with needle and thread
And some stuffing in tow
I stitched 2 little pillows,
Relaxing to sew.

One for each of the grands
With a pocket on top
For a tooth or the money
The fairy will swap.

There’s just one little glitch –
I will be quite bereft
If I see them at last
With no baby teeth left!

How Are You Really?

A new campaign for mental health
Is aimed to be reveally.
This New York website asks the question –
So, “How are you really?”

For everyone is not okay
Though some pretend they’re steely.
To get more folks to open up,
There’s now “How are you really?”

By phone or twitter one can join
Since each of us, ideally,
Has lots to say about our lives
When asked, “How are you really?”

Unburdening the truth inside,
Once viewed as “touchy feely,”
May help us thus connect and cope
For none feel normal – really!

A Morning Laugh

As a creature of habit, my daily routine
Doesn’t vary when I take my walk,
Yet each morning there’s something that I haven’t seen
Like some rainbows, on sidewalks, in chalk.

Sometimes pigeons, in circles, are flying above
Or a tugboat is pushing a barge;
Maybe bright fuchsia flowers, a color I love,
Are in bloom, though no gardener’s in charge.

But it’s rare for a sighting to cause me to laugh
Like today’s did. From what, you might ask.
Well, the Peter Pan statue was sporting, no gaffe,
An appropriate surgical mask!

Birthday Quarantine Queen

Today’s my daughter’s birthday.
In her group home, there was cake,
Balloons and decorations;
It was fun, make no mistake.

There was pizza, dayglo bracelets,
Blow-up microphones, as well
As some neon light-up glasses –
Very festive, you can tell.

She was sporting a tiara
And, in photos from the scene,
She was glowing in a t-shirt
Which read “Queen of Quarantine.”

We are grateful to her staff
Who kept the party going on
And we also owe a debt
For all that stuff to Amazon!

Taking up Planting

For my son and his kids, it’s tomatoes,
The cherry-type, planted from seed,
While my friend on the upper west side filled some pots
With more herbs than she ever will need.

A dear friend who resides near the ocean
Has her terrace with plantings a‘brim
And another has switched from her flowers
To some veggies she’ll soon have to trim.

My kid sister’s restarted her garden;
Iguanas, though, sneak in to steal
And my sister-in-law, once there’s no chance of frost,
By her plot in the yard will soon kneel.

Many lately have taken up planting
Since we’re home now with nothing but time
But I’m planted here in my apartment,
Where I tend to and nurture my rhyme.

Birdsong

Conversing with people in houses
I often pick up in the air
The chirping of birds,
Those avian words
That make me feel like I’m right there.

My early-morn walks by the river
Provide me, as well, with the tweets
Of the sparrow and jays,
With their citified ways,
In the branches of trees on the streets.

But the biggest surprise in this lockdown
Is how quiet my city’s become
So from on the 9^th floor
I can now hear much more
Of their song, without traffic’s harsh hum.

Dr. Fauci

Dr. Fauci,* never grouchy,
Seems to tell it like it is.
When we need a Covid answer,
The advice I’d want is his.

When our POTUS** gives us notice,
It is simply not worth heeding
For it’s either flat-out wrong
Or likely otherwise misleading.

So much news from different views
Is surely bound to be confusing.
When folks follow made-up “facts,”
The truth is all of us are losing.

*director of the National Institute of
Allergies and Infectious Diseases
**President of the United States

A-Wop-Bop-a-Loo-Bop

If this title tells you nothing
Then I guess I can assume
That you’ve never heard those lyrics
Followed by “A-lop-bam-boom.”

Little Richard’s the composer;
“Tutti Fruitti” is the song,
One of many, like “Good Golly…”
We’ve been singing all along.

To describe him as flamboyant
Barely covers what he was
But if you’ve seen him perform, you know
He justified the buzz.

Now he’s dead at 87,
One more rock star bites the dust.
More than words, a fitting tribute
Is to watch him sing – you must!

Mothers' Day on Lockdown

Got a Kindle for a gift,
A present sweet and caring
Especially since lack of books
Had got me quite despairing.

I’ve never wanted one before,
Preferring paper pages
But access has been limited
As virus warfare wages.

Though stuck at home, I, too, received
Some calls and home-made greetings
On cards created by the grands
Displayed at FaceTime meetings.

To celebrate on lockdown
May seem slightly incomplete
Yet to feel that love connection
Is a most delightful treat!

The Polar Vortex

I check the weather on my phone
Before I head outside.
My jacket choices such a glance
Does helpfully provide.

For weeks, my trusty fleece it’s been,
With turtleneck below,
A sweatshirt sometimes added
If the wind’s supposed to blow.

Today, though, temps were hovering
At thirty-eight degrees
So if I dressed like always
I believed I might just freeze.

Some Arctic air has come to town,
Unusual for May.
The Polar Vortex, as it’s called,
Makes flowers droop and sway.

My woolen cape came out to help
Me on my walking task.
I wonder if it recognized me
From behind my mask.

Smashing a Coronata

To help with frustrations that build
Some creative types made and then filled
A piñata to hang
Then to smash with a bang
But these folks were amazingly skilled.

Their piñatas, from which candy spilled,
Had a shape which we all would want stilled.
With a Covid design,
Looking far from benign,
Coronatas are how they are billed.

Wouldn’t any of us be just thrilled
If our wishes could be so fulfilled?
With a few mighty whacks
We could stem the attacks
And all cheer as the virus got killed!

Let's Pretend

As Mothers’ Day approaches
There are emails on my phone
With gift ideas for Covid days
To throw your mom a bone.

So even if you’re stuck inside
Your love you’d be expressin’
If, on Trip Advisor, you’d book an
Aperitivo lesson.

A Roman local will explain
Just how to make this drink.
She’d need her own ingredients
And glassware, I would think.

Of course, this all is virtual
But she might find it nifty
To pretend that she’s in Italy
And all for $16.50!

Nurses' Day

Today’s the date to thank, in verse,
Each health care hero, i.e. nurse.
Officially, it’s Nurses’ Day;
Let’s send some gratitude their way.

Of course, each night we clap and cheer
For those who’ve chosen this career
But more than that, much more’s their due,
So stepping to the plate’s JetBlue.

100,000 pairs of flights
The airline’s offered, which invites
All health care workers who apply
To have the chance, for free, to fly.

Now that’s a wonderful reward
For something many can’t afford
And whether travel’s north or south ‘tis
Great JetBlue put its money where its mouth is.

Quarantine Routine

My husband and I have a perfect routine
In the stay-at-home days caused by Covid-19.
Our apartment’s not big – bedroom, kitchen and bath
And a living room – 3 and ½. (Do the math.)

We alternate times in the bathroom, of course.
(To do otherwise might just result in divorce.)
The kitchen’s the same – we just smoothly take turns
At the fridge, sink and stove to ensure nothing burns.

For the bulk of the day, we’re in separate rooms
(It’s not true that we talk to each other with Zooms)
But we join to watch Cuomo* and FaceTime the grands
And have dinner – I hope no one misunderstands…

We are happy together to shelter-in-place

But it’s vital to each have some just-for-me space
So we divvy the day to connect and to part –
Like the governor says, we’re tough, loving and smart.

*the governor of New York

Catching a Glimpse

When we check out the room
Of the speakers on Zoom
Our eyes start their job of assessing
For the objects that loom,
Nothing staged, we assume,
Give us hints of what they are possessing.

Every bookcase, so neat!
Offers clues, though discreet,
Of editions that they have been reading
And the artwork we greet
In each private retreat
Makes us think, “Oh, that’s just what I’m needing!”

The celebrities’ digs
For these stay-at-home gigs
May cause envy of spaces resplendent
But the biggest of wigs
Might be living like pigs
When they aren’t on-camera transcendent.

The City that Never Sleeps

I live in “the city that never sleeps”
But now I can attest
To the fact that for the first time
It’s been forced to take a rest.

The restaurants and corner stores
Are shuttered or, at best,
Allowing business to proceed
With hours quite repressed.

The famous subways always ran,
As you have likely guessed,
All day and night so no one’s
Travel had to be suppressed.

But now they’ll disinfect the trains
At City Hall’s request
From 1 – 5 a.m.; all those
Still on will face arrest.

Pandemics put the world on hold;
We’ve seen that manifest
Yet to see my city sleeping
Can’t help making me depressed.

Meandering

I followed paths, meandering
And noting all the joys of spring –
The trees in blossom, bright green grass,
All seen without a pane of glass
Preventing me from such a treat –
The scent of flowers, soft and sweet.

This all took place in early morn
Beyond my walk, for I was torn
With wanting to remain outside
Or following the stay-in guide.
My compromise – some extra time,
Not yet considered as a crime.

The park was empty, so I heard
The chirp and twitter of each bird.
I breathed in deep without my mask,
Nobody taking me to task.
At last, fulfilled, I headed home,
Content enough to write my poem.

Virtual

Here’s a virtual hug
And a virtual kiss.
We’ve never prepared
For affection like this.

A virtual fist bump
Or virtual squeeze
Might prevent us from getting
A nasty disease.

If the radio’s on
Then a virtual dance
Might bring grins to us all
If we give it a chance.

In these virtual days
We can show how we feel
With a far-off embrace
Sparked by love, which is real.