Not Watching the News

If I refuse to watch the news 

It’s not that I’m uncaring,

But rather that some people’s views 

Can lead me to despairing.

A late report about the Court

Will get my teeth to gnashing

And tales of states that won’t abort 

Will have my spirits crashing.

I do indeed take time to read

The paper so I’m knowing

The highlights of the daily screed

And how the world is going.

But on TV I will not see

Events that are unfolding,

For words are quite enough for me,

The images withholding.

Made in the Shade

In the shade you’ve got it made;

The sun’s intensity does fade.

Of sunburn, you won’t be afraid 

And you can sit with pleasure.

On city sidewalk or a glade,

Beneath a tree I wouldn’t trade

A shady spot; you’d not persuade

Me, not by any measure.

Some folks by a/c’s might be swayed

But when the pros and cons I’ve weighed,

I’d save the biggest accolade

For shade, which I do treasure.

Under Oath

How can a person who lies under oath

Be given a job or appointment or both

With lifetime prestige and with salary growth?

It’s easier than it may seem.

For Thomas and Kavanaugh, Barrett as well,

The hand on the Bible just didn’t compel 

The truth from their lips, as the lies they did tell

Didn’t stop them from joining the team.

We watched and we listened, our faces aghast

As fictional statements in court were amassed,

Yet everyone knew that the die had been cast 

And each one took the title Supreme.

Now the Court is divided; it’s 6 against 3

And that, for the long run, is how it will be,

A future that’s scary as hell to foresee 

As we inwardly shudder and scream.

Supreme Indignation

To live in this country,

‘Twas brought home today,

It helps to be Christian,

Shoot weapons and pray.

On top of all that,

It’s a plus to be male -

Just knock up a woman

And then you can bail.

If you are a female, 

To show what you’re worth, 

No matter who screwed you,

Prepare to give birth.

Despite if it’s not

What you want, you must yield 

But don’t worry - they’ll pray

For you out on the field.

The atheists, Muslims 

And, naturally, Jews

Have to hear about Jesus;

You don’t get to choose.

The land of the free

And the home of the brave

Must have R.B.G. rolling

Around in her grave.

Snap Decisions

Some folks make decisions

Without thinking, in a snap,

Especially when options,

Unexpected, hit their lap.

I envy that ability

To quickly take a chance,

Instead of being mired

In a yes-or-no type dance.

Most things that we decide won’t change

The course our lives are on

And opportunity not grabbed

May vanish and it’s gone.

While others try to snatch the ring

Life’s carousel goes past,

My horse goes up and down while I

Stay seated, holding fast.

Be Most Afraid

We should all be most afraid

Since they’ve abolished Roe v. Wade 

For legislators won’t be swayed 

Despite the nation’s ire.

Women feel we’ve been betrayed

By those whose actions have displayed

A heartlessness that will pervade

With consequences dire.

If attention had been paid

Some reason might have helped persuade

The justices that they have made

A move that will require

An all-out battle, a crusade 

Of women who’ll be undismayed

Expressing rage that will not fade, 

Our uteri on fire.

Avian Request

A chickadee flew up to me

And chirped out a request -

Please fill the back yard feeder

‘Fore I head back to my nest.

I had indeed put out some seed

But clearly not enough,

So other birds had polished off

The nuts and fruits and stuff.

I would have bet I’d never get 

A message that’s been tweeted

But I complied, for even birds

Get angry feeling cheated.

Birthing Day

My friend said, “Happy Birthing Day!”

I couldn’t help but grin

Because this marks the date in which

My son’s life did begin.

 

Some memories leap out at me –

I know just what I wore

And the way I woke my brother

As we headed out the door.

 

He had come to visit, hoping

He’d be there to celebrate

The arrival of his nephew

And he’d not have long to wait.

 

But before we left, I tapped him

Saying we did not have long.

We were headed to the hospital.

He yelled, “Oh no, what’s wrong?”

 

“I’m just going to have a baby!”

Then we laughed, for as he woke

He’d entirely forgotten;

It became a family joke.

 

Hours later we would welcome

To this world our baby boy

Who has, through the years and counting,

Brought a lifetime filled with joy.

Urban Surprise

On my city walks, a sighting

Of some wildlife oft prevails

But today I was surprised to see

A little group of snails.

 

Two were inching very slowly

To the edges of a path

Though with runners soon approaching,

Things looked sketchy – do the math.

 

One crushed shell nearby was telling

So I hoped they’d be all right

For along the promenade, a snail

Is not a common sight.

 

Later, I saw many pigeons

And a chase involving mice

But it took some slimy crawling snails

To get me looking twice.

The Mail Piles Up

The mail piles up when you’re away;

The plants may droop or wither,

But all else stays exactly so

If you go yon and hither.

 

The jacket you forgot to hang,

The food that’s going rotten

Were left in limbo with some other

Things perhaps forgotten.

 

The order you forgot to send,

The room in need of dusting

Wait patiently ‘til you return,

Like little children, trusting.

 

Then you get home and do those chores

You somehow left unfinished

Or add them to a growing list

That slowly gets diminished.

Garden Shears

I bought a pair of garden shears,

The first I’ve ever used.

The shrubs looked much too tall and wild

So I was most enthused.

I have no training, but I thought

Some snipping here and there

Would make things look much neater;

If I messed up, who would care?

I trimmed away dead branches 

Then I lopped some from the top.

Some left-side leaves, some right-side twigs;

I watched the cuttings drop.

The shears worked great and I felt proud

So after quite a spell,

I looked to see a job well done,

But couldn’t even tell!

The Perfect Compromise

I’m sitting’ in a patch of sun 

Or else I’d likely freeze

Because, although it’s June,

There is a really chilly breeze.

I’m not complaining - heat and I

Are different as can be.

I’d rather suffer winter’s bite

Than wipe the sweat off me.

Today’s the perfect compromise,

Combining warmth of sun 

With fall-like winds, such weather

Bringing smiles to everyone.

Sir Paul Turns 80

I was a Paul girl way back when;

Read every magazine.

His face was plastered on my walls,

Like every Beatles teen.

I screamed my head off watching

When they showed up on TV.

It was the greatest thing that ever

Happened, then, to me.

I bought each record, saw each film

And followed his career.

That first infatuation 

Didn’t fully disappear.

Today Sir Paul turns 80;

Non-stop tributes fill the air,

But when I hear his early songs,

My younger self is there.

Bird Food

If I were a bird

I would be undeterred

By a squirrel or raptor or cat.

I would trust in my need

To secure some good seed

And determine just where it is at.

Yard to yard I would go 

‘Til the habits I’d know

Of the humans whom feeders would fill.

Then I’d zoom in to eat,

Telling others, by tweet,

It’s a good place for dipping your bill.

For those birds that exist

With no feeders, they’ve missed

Such an easy and flight-friendly meal,

But with berries and worms,

Surely they’ve come to terms

With those foods that have natural appeal.

Unhinged

A man jumped on the subway tracks,

Delaying every train.

He paced and shouted; people asked him

What he hoped to gain.

He ranted incoherently

Yet strangers offered aid,

Despite the fact that they’d be late

For plans they might have made.

As minutes passed, nobody

Could convince him he should stop

But he climbed up at last

Where he was handcuffed by a cop.

Reporters called the man “unhinged,”

As good a word as any

For lately, that description

Might apply to far too many.

The Newest Member

Clad in just a diaper,

Nestled in his father’s lap,

A brand-new baby’s by the river,

Deep into a nap.

I think he needs a blanket

Since the bench is in the shade,

But his parents seem relaxed

With the decision they have made.

I’d guess that not a week ago 

That newborn babe was curled

In the cozy womb, yet now he’s here,

A member of the world.

The Days are Long

The days are long and getting longer

So my boredom’s that much stronger.

To complain feels even wronger

Since I am okay.

 

I read, I write, I do my walking;

On the phone or Zoom, I’m talking.

Still, at travel, I am balking;

Locally, I stay.

 

Pandemic life has been a trial

And, although it’s been a while,

I can’t say for sure when I’ll

Be comfortable away.

 

Others plan a nice vacation

Which is little consolation.

Maybe with some motivation,

I’ll go, too, someday.

Half the Story

When you’re getting half the story

You fill in the missing parts,

Though you’re bound to get things wrong

Not knowing where it ends or starts.

 

If you jump to a conclusion,

Which is natural to do,

You may, later on, discover

That your thinking was askew.

 

Still, we bow to human nature

And must fill in all the gaps,

Knowing very well the dangers

Caused by half-the-story traps.

Second Booster

I had my second booster shot

And energetic, I am not.

I’ve gotten past the needle’s ouch

But can’t get off my cozy couch.

 

With no set plans, I am content

To hang around, the hours spent

With rest and music that sustains,

The vaccine coursing through my veins.

In-Betweens

Certain food containers,

When the cover’s off, reveal

An extra piece of plastic

Or of foil meant to seal.

 

When opening these items,

There’s a choice for you to make –

Remove and toss that layer

Or retain it. What’s at stake?

 

You might get more protection

If you leave it, but, oh, boy,

It blocks your easy access

To the food and might annoy.

 

To me, there’s not a question –

I just throw that piece away.

The cover keeps things fresh enough,

Convenience holding sway.

 

When visiting my son, though,

I defer to his routines

And stop myself from yanking off

Protective in-betweens.

Stillness

The birdsong’s interrupted by

The lawn machine next door.

I cannot hear the tweets and trills

Above the mower’s roar.

An airplane flies by overhead;

The garbage truck makes beeps,

But suddenly, the man-made noises

Cease and there are cheeps.

Though sounds of nature coexist

With man’s cacophony,

Cessation of the latter

Brings a stillness sweet to me.

Near-Rhyme

It’s often used in lyrics

Since the music cuts some slack

But each time I get to hear it,

I am taken some aback.

 

For to me, who is a purist,

It’s a point in fact that I’m

Quite a stickler who objects to

Any near- or almost-rhyme.

 

Sometimes laziness explains it,

Or the closeness of a word

To a rhyming one makes writers

Think a real rhyme will be heard.

 

Often there is nothing fitting

With the word the poet chose.

Finding others to replace it

Is a job each stickler knows.

 

There are many who will argue

Even Shakespeare sometimes fudged

Though that knowledge doesn’t faze me;

My beliefs will not be budged.

I Don't Need Much

I don’t need too much in life –

A book, a bench, a breeze,

Some friends and family for support,

A bagel and some cheese.

 

Of course, the extras add a lot –

The coffee, ice cream, beer,

The pension I can live on from

A long, fulfilled career.

 

As time goes by, I realize

There is less that I desire

And very little, therefore,

That I actually require.

Mosquito Bites

I must be really sweet because

Mosquitoes seek me out.

The same’s not true for bees, whose stings

I’ll gladly do without.

 

I rarely see the biter

But of course, I feel the itch

Which sometimes lasts a week or more,

Another aging glitch.

 

A skeeter bite annoys me.

As a nuisance, none can match it

Though there’s great relief in doing

What I shouldn’t, which is scratch it!

Today is D-Day

Today is D-Day, once a date

Evocative of war

When Allied troops invaded France

In 1944.

 

By land and sea and air, the soldiers

Stormed the Nazis’ hold

In Normandy, an operation

Sneaky, smart and bold.

 

Commemorated in the past,

Historically germane,

To younger folk, its meaning

Would need someone to explain.

 

As years go by, the stories fade

And though they might be taught,

We cannot bring to relevance

The wars and battles fought.

When It Rains, It Pours

“When it rains, it pours”

Often turns out true 

For one thing gone wrong

Sometimes starts a slew.

So an E.R. trip,

Which would be enough,

Then a tire near flat

Leads to other stuff.

Like no transport home

From a birthday meet

Since the E.R. car

Had the booster seat.

Frantic texts and calls

‘Til things got resolved 

But the story then

Gets much more involved.

‘Cross the ocean, flights

Somehow get delayed.

Then a phone gets lost,

Leaving all dismayed.

But the downpour stops

And the sun comes out.

All the ups and downs

Are what life’s about.

Skin Deep

I do not like the skin I’m in -

It’s dotted, dry and wrinkled,

Like paper with a reject poem -

Once smooth, now sadly crinkled.

Each little tap becomes a bruise,

A purple blotch, attesting

To all the years I’ve spent on earth,

A dermal-type divesting.

Some freckles not here yesterday

Have multiplied and scattered.

They would have bothered me much more 

When my appearance mattered.

What troubles me some others might

Find trite and almost risible.

I should let go, for at my age

To others I’m invisible.

Walkover

The match was so exciting,

No one clearly in the lead.

Though Rafa won a tiebreak,

Nothing else was guaranteed.

The second set had started,

Rafa sweating in the heat.

While playing on his birthday,

He would not accept defeat.

Approaching six games all,

Another tiebreak on the rise,

His opponent turned his ankle

And fell down before our eyes.

His pain appeared enormous;

He was helped to leave the court

In a wheelchair, as he realized

All his hopes had come up short.

So Nadal is in the finals;

He “walked over,” as they say.

Not one soul, including Rafa,

Wished for it to end that way.

*French Open Semi-Final

Rafael (Rafa) Nadal vs. Alexander Zverev

No Yacht for Me

Of all the things I haven’t got

The one I wouldn’t want’s a yacht,

For though most folks would be impressed,

I’d always have to look my best.

 

The details would just overwhelm –

The crew, the fuel, who’s at the helm;

The food, décor and where to sail,

All planned on a most lavish scale.

 

Decisions made to scratch each itch,

A consequence of being rich.

I do love water close at hand,

But from my viewpoint on the land.

Another Ilene

My first appointment for P.T.

(To help my torn-meniscus knee)

Had me arriving at the same

Time as another with my name.

 

She entered with a loud complaint –

The elevator was too quaint

And so she’d walked a flight of stairs,

But locked doors caught her unawares.

 

Annoyed at forms for filling out,

“I need a pen!” she then did shout.

I quietly observed the scene,

Then stood when someone called, “Ilene!”

 

“But I’m Ilene!” she did insist.

She glared at me, a little pissed.

The clerk, though, took it all in stride.

“You’re both Ilenes,” she clarified.

 

Our name’s not often spelled with “I.”

I’m sure, like me, she wondered why

Coincidence or maybe fate

Brought us together on this date.