Not Worth Repeating

It’s years since I’ve been writing poems

So, searching for a topic,

I sometimes might repeat myself,

The outcome quite myopic.

 

Of course, there are some subjects that

Require repetition

And when I write, I needn’t ask

For anyone’s permission.

 

Yet on occasion, what I’ve penned

Is destined for the shredder,

For there’s a poem – same theme, but older,

That’s a whole lot better!

Where is Rico?

An online buddy disappears

And there’s no way to find him.

He’s simply vanished, leaving

All his published poems behind him.

 

In other cases, people left

But it took me a while

To notice they were gone;

A daily poem was not their style.

 

When someone who won’t miss a day

And comments with affection

Just stops his posts, my mind goes

In a worrisome direction.

Vacuum-Packed

To save on space and shipping costs

When packages are stacked,

So many items nowadays

Are sent out vacuum-packed.

 

My daughter’s teddy bear arrived,

All squished up in a ball.

You’d never guess that it could be

A teddy bear at all.

 

Yet once we managed (it was tough!)

To help the bear get out

From all his plastic, he puffed up

(Despite my nagging doubt).

 

The modern world has different ways

To send out what we need.

If we could vacuum-pack ourselves,

The airlines would take heed.

The Chuppah

A chuppah is a canopy

Beneath which couples wed.

It could be made of cloth, a shawl

Or flower boughs instead.

 

Tradition called for chuppahs

To be held up, using poles,

With relatives or friends assigned

The chuppah-holding roles.

 

When I got married, years ago,

But on this very date,

My brothers, cousin and my husband’s

Brother filled the slate.

 

The cloth was velvet with the star

Of David center-placed.

We stood beneath it, said our vows,

Sipped wine and then embraced.

 

I don’t know whence the chuppah came -

Perhaps the rabbi’s stash –

But it’s a symbol I recall

Just like the glass’s smash.*

 

Our wedding was a small one

But the chuppah played its part

To ensure our matrimony

Had a customary start.

 

*In Jewish weddings, the groom stomps

on a cloth-covered glass right after the

ceremony.

Gifts from Afar

When someone who’s away returns

And brings a little gift,

No matter what it is, it’s sure

To give your heart a lift.

 

For just to know you crossed his mind’s

Enough to make you smile,

But a souvenir is lovely,

Even more when it’s your style.

 

So my new umbrella’s ready

For when rain is on the way

And my sheep with shamrock’s hanging

Where I’ll see it every day.

 

Since these gifts were from my son

They really filled me with delight,

With the added affirmation

That I sure did something right!

Old Photo Albums

Old photo albums give a glimpse

Of how we used to look.

We try to gauge our happiness

From pictures that we took.

 

Some snapshots catch us laughing,

Maybe in a silly pose,

Or with clothes and hair so retro

We’re surprised that’s what we chose.

 

There’s a sadness, too, in pages

Where the posers, filled with mirth,

Are a stark reminder life is short

Since they’ve now left the earth.

 

Still, I love to scan the faces

And remember each event

When we couldn’t ever picture

All the people we’d lament.

T-Day Meal, Fresh Caught

On my morning walk, I saw a hawk

Crash down and pin a dove.

Its steely gaze inspired its blaze

Of speed from up above.

 

A moment’s pause, with bird in claws,

Allowed a closer look,

Then off it flew and left my view,

Its meal not meant to cook.

 

It’s Nature’s way that some are prey

And those with higher ranks

Will get to feast; for that, at least,

We offer up our thanks.

Potchkeing

Many folks are potchkeing*

In preparation for

Thanksgiving Day tomorrow

And the feast that is in store.

 

Soups and stuffing, pies and cakes,

Turkey, veggies, yams;

Mashed potatoes, corn bread,

Sauce of cranberries and hams.

 

Some make everything from scratch,

Others order in

Or use some combination;

Still, the diners score a win.

 

Kith and kin will gather;

There’ll be football on T.V.

Americans will party

With a stuff-your-faces spree.

 

*A Yiddish word for fussing or bothering,

pronounced “potch-key-ing.”

Winter Skin

In winter, my skin starts to itch

Like someone has turned on a switch.

To get some relief,

Which is helpful, but brief,

I give in to some ad man’s slick pitch.

 

I have tried every lotion and cream

But each failure makes me want to scream.

Though it’s better than pain,

Itching drives me insane;

It feels worse than the problem might seem.

 

Poison ivy might give you a clue

How it feels, or there’s chicken pox, too,

Or mosquitoes galore;

Need I say any more?

Oh, I wish I knew what I could do…

Bags

In travel, you may check your bags

But sometimes it is wise

To choose a carry-on instead

When taking to the skies.

 

I much prefer to keep my bags

So there is no surprise

When I deplane, for missing luggage

Tends to traumatize.

 

Of course, I always have with me

Some bags I do despise,

Which some of you have guessed, I’m sure –

The bags beneath my eyes!

In Dublin

My son’s in Dublin, now, for work.

Irish travel – what a perk!

He’ll only be there for a week

But he’s allowed a little peek.

 

Shooting snooker ‘stead of pool;

Watching rugby played – how cool!

Drinking Guinness in a pub,

Like a local at a club.

 

He’ll be back the day before

We come knocking at his door

For Turkey Day with what will be

Plain beer and football on T.V.

A Life is Captured

A life is captured with a lens

From babyhood until

The final hours, right before

The world goes dark and still.

A loving son creates a site 

With pictures on display

To keep his memory alive

And let the smiles hold sway.

For photos crystallize the past,

Like amber holds a fly,

Each moment perfectly preserved -

The who, what, where and why.

We gaze upon the face of one 

No longer on this earth

And every photograph affirms

How much his life was worth.

(In memory of Gary Schall)

Hours

Some hours race by at breakneck speed,

So fast, they’re almost blurry,

As if, like fire trucks on call,

They’re in the biggest hurry.

While other hours move like snails

Or just like taffy, stretching,

Until we’re forced to check the clock

To try to keep from kvetching.*

Still, time is not in our control.

We lack the needed powers

To change the pace as minutes

Dash or crawl and turn to hours.

*complaining

Too Early

There beside the entrance

To my neighborhood Whole Foods,

Were Christmas trees lined up,

Perhaps to brighten people’s moods.

 

I’d gotten used to seeing trees

Right after Turkey Day,

Which always seemed too early

For a holiday display.

 

Yet now it is a week before

Thanksgiving Day instead,

So those who buy their trees now

Will, by Christmas, find them dead.

Clarinet Day

Today is Clarinet Day;

Well, at least that’s what I heard.

I played it once but it was not

The choice I’d have preferred.

 

In school, fifth graders were assigned

An instrument for band.

The girls all wanted flutes,

Which you can surely understand.

 

Though some were lucky, I was not

Among the chosen few

And so I played the clarinet,

Not much that I could do.

 

I never got the hang of it

And quit in junior high,

But joined the chorus, since my voice

Would, with the tunes, comply.

 

I hope all clarinetists

Can perform a bit today.

May their inner Benny Goodmans

Chase all naysayers away!

Our Options

We each of us make choices –

Where to live and what to wear,

The type of work we’ll do

And just how much of life we’ll share.

 

A thousand small decisions

Factor in to who we are,

Determining how close we’ll get

To goals (or else how far).

 

Our options float before us

Every day that we’re alive.

We pick them or ignore them

So we wither or we thrive.

 

Though some of us are lucky

With alternatives galore,

We all make our selections

‘Til we cannot anymore.

Pep in Your Step

Circumstances forced me

To step out of my routine

So I took my morning walk

Right after 2 cups of caffeine.

 

I felt so energetic

Anyone I came to face

Would have marveled at my fitness,

So impressive was my pace.

 

When a stranger made the comment

Of the title, though, to me,

I just smiled and kept my secret –

That I really had to pee!

Setting the Matter Straight

There are times when you’re distracted

And you even can forget

To take care of business; maybe

It’s not happened to you yet.

 

But in time, it’s bound to happen

And perhaps you’ll be dismayed

For you’ll realize that a slip-up

Is the price that you have paid.

 

Some distractions may cause damage;

Others only aggravate.

If you’re lucky, you’ll recover

And can set the matter straight.

Compromise

A compromise is needed

When two people disagree 

Or there will be a battle

Over programs on TV.

If one wants animation 

And the other likes to learn

By watching documentaries,

Each has to have a turn.

So first we’re watching footage 

Of some gorgeous spots in France,

Then we’ll tune to “Brave,” so that

The other has her chance.

Who’d think two kids could not agree?

It was a real surprise,

But happily, we found a way

With one small compromise.

Proud Nana

Schools are closed for Veterans’ Day

So Henry, here at home,

Requested that he have a chance

To write my daily poem.

He commandeered my notebook

And began to neatly write,

Resulting in a poem so cool

It filled me with delight.

He typed it up and posted it

To send it on its way.

My grandson, 9 years old, must have

My rhyming DNA!

*Henry’s poem, “Veterans of the Ocean,”

can be found right before this one. The note at

the bottom was written by him as well.

Veterans Of The Ocean

Coast Guard guards the coast;

Beaches welcome their host.

Waves come,

Waves go,

Sand gets in your feet, oho!

Waves are high,

Waves are low,

How many veterans do you know?

This poem was written by my grandson, Henry.

The Last Drive

For more than forty years, we’ve made

The drive to visit friends,

A trip that takes an hour,

Maybe more or less, depends.

 

For coffee dates or barbecues

Or walks along the beach

Or beer and burger meals, it was

An easy place to reach.

 

We traveled those same highways

For the last time yesterday.

Our friends have sold their house

To move a thousand miles away.

 

Of course, we are invited

To their brand-new home, although

It’s another chapter ended

With not many more to go.

To the People of Georgia

To the people of Georgia –

You have one more chance

To make your vote count

And not looked at askance.

 

The opponents, as different

As two men can be,

Want to serve in the Senate,

But each nominee

 

Has some assets and flaws

So you have to decide

Who will serve you the best

And is most qualified.

 

There’s a football star with no

Political sense

Who believes that his actions

Have no consequence.

 

There is also a pastor,

Well-spoken, who fights

To ensure his constituents

Have equal rights.

 

Though it seems a no-brainer,

The voters are split

But I urge all in Georgia

To think and commit

 

To the candidate who

Will continue to strive

To keep hope in our country

And freedom alive.

Cast Your Vote

Whatever issue’s got your goat,

Today’s the day to hustle

To where you get to cast your vote

And flex your civic muscle.

 

Debates are over, ads are done;

You’ve come to a conclusion,

So mark your ballot. Everyone

Is under the illusion

 

That who we want will likely win

But half of us, in choosing,

Will pick the one, to our chagrin,

Who’ll end up badly losing.

 

Better, though, to take a stand

And have our choice recorded,

Since some of us throughout the land

Will have our hopes rewarded.

Hammering it Home

A man of 82 attacked,

A hammer to his head,

Is lucky, thanks to 911,

He didn’t end up dead.

Misinformation made the rounds,

A pack of nasty lies 

Regarding Paul Pelosi,

But that’s sadly no surprise

For there are no boundaries anymore.

Whatever rage is felt 

Will circulate, despite the fact

It hits below the belt.

So jokes and rumors sprout and spread

While in intensive care,

The Speaker’s husband lies in bed,

As we become aware

That this is now our country’s norm.

It sickens me to know

Our standards, once so lofty,

Have dropped down so very low.

The Stars and Stripes

After 9/11, flags

Were proudly on display 

To show the world we stood together

In the U.S.A.

Such a rare attack at home

United every side,

So stars and stripes were flown

To show defiance, strength and pride.

Yet now that symbol has become

An icon of the right

And seeing flags on people’s homes

Makes me a bit uptight.

It’s sad to know the comfort 

That the flag had once provided

Has been altered to portray a land

So hopelessly divided.

Leaf Blowers

Where once in fall, the air was filled

With such a special smell,

That burning leaves aroma

Which I loved, as you can tell…

Today, instead, we have the sound

Of blowers making noise,

Which I would bet that not

A single living thing enjoys.

The leaves, once raked and burned,

Now sit in piles to cart away

Or else get spread around, where they

Will, in the future, stay.

I miss the scents of autumns past 

And crackles of the flames,

Preferred to the incessant drone

Each blower loudly claims.

Yeesh

I’ll never understand the drive

To buy or own or wear

An item a celebrity

Touts, thinking we will care.

But many do and run right out

To be the first to preen

In clothes or shoes they’ve noticed

In a fashion magazine.

Yet what if that celebrity 

Does something clearly wrong?

Attraction to his products

Suddenly won’t be as strong.

That won’t be a dilemma

For a person such as me,

Who would never, in the first place,

Purchase anything by Ye.

Marriage

Marriage is a give and take,

A push and then a pull,

With patience tanks that vary

From flat empty up to full.

 

You go along with plans that you’d

Prefer had not been made,

But next time it’s your spouse’s turn,

Unhappiness displayed.

 

Yet somewhere in the middle

There’s a balance that’s achieved.

The yin and yang combine

And all good feelings are retrieved.

 

Unless they don’t, when scales are tipped

And things veer way off course,

Resulting in no give, just take,

Which leads to a divorce.

Parasail

In Florida, the family met

For dinner by the beach.

A parasail came into view,

Which sent the gulls a’screech.

 

My aunt, who’s 94, exclaimed,

“I’d like to take that ride

To celebrate my 95^th,

With someone by my side.”

 

We all cracked up, a funny joke,

But looking at her face,

We weren’t sure – could this be something

That she might embrace?”

 

If so, who’d keep her company?

For none of us would go.

We decided on my sister

Who, not there, could not say no.

 

A lot can happen in a year,

Though surely, without fail,

There’ll be a poem next August

If my aunt does parasail!

At the Airport Early

When you’re at the airport early,

You can chill out and relax 

Since there aren’t many stressors 

That will stop you in your tracks.

You’ve already dealt with traffic 

And returned the rental car.

Once you’ve made it through security,

Head to the nearest bar.

Have a drink or two or twenty

Or, if drinking’s not your style,

Find a Starbucks, grab a coffee

Or walk circles for a mile.

Check out stores and spend some money;

Buy a t-shirt or some chips,

Then just find a place to settle

And plop down to rest your hips.

Read a book or do a crossword;

Text a friend or make a call.

Though the minutes may move slowly,

Just be glad they move at all.

In a while you will be boarding

To begin your journey home

And if you start feeling bored,

Then that’s the time to write a poem.