On New Year's Eve

Once upon a time, on New Year’s Eve,

We dressed and then we headed out,

For gathering with friends was what

The holiday was all about.

 

We drank and partied, maybe even

Danced and sang a little bit

And laughed and schmoozed and only

Hours past midnight did we finally split.

 

Tonight, though, after many years,

We dressed and left to eat at 5,

Enjoying quite a lovely meal,

Relieved we didn’t have to drive.

 

And now we’ll watch TV, enjoying

“Twilight Zones” as time will creep,

Until, at last, the ball will drop

While both of us, exhausted, sleep.

Beyond Your Control

Sometimes a problem’s beyond your control,

Affecting the way that you rock and you roll

And though a solution, of course, is the goal,

There isn’t one you can uncover.

 

You Google and agonize, suffer and fret

And think of what you could have done, with regret,

But mostly you wish you could simply forget

And take a deep breath and recover.

 

Some problems are solvable; others are not,

At least with the tools and equipment you’ve got.

Yet still, you must give it your very best shot,

For maybe some help you’ll discover.

A Trigger

Feelings aren’t right or wrong;

A trigger sets them loose

And if we cannot shrug them off,

They tighten like a noose.

Of course, I’m talking negatives –

The hurts that we perceive

Are sent our way by those who should

Support us, we believe.

 

It’s likely our reaction

Wasn’t anyone’s intent,

But still we feel the same, no matter

What was really meant.

 

The trick is what we do about

What’s left us feeling low,

For keeping quiet sometimes

Is the safest way to go.

 

Since confrontation often

Means that everybody squirms,

It might be better keeping closed

That slimy can of worms. 

A Day at the Circus

At the circus were acrobats,

Jugglers and clowns

And dancers in costumes,

All spangled, or gowns.

 

A walker on tightrope,

The flying trapeze,

With music and acts

Which all ages would please.

 

There was pink cotton candy

And popcorn for sale

So that joy and excitement

And smiles would prevail.

 

At the circus were families

Delighted to be

There, like both of my grandkids,

My husband and me.

A Lasting Gift

My Uncle Aaron, now deceased,

Once brought me, as a gift,

A game with marbles called Hi-Q,

Which gave me quite a lift.

 

The base is made of pottery.

It’s circular in style

And sits out in my living room;

I think of him and smile.

 

I haven’t played in years, although

It’s challenging and fun.

You jump the marbles, hoping that

You’ll end with only one.

 

That never happens, but last night,

My grandkids tried and tried.

I watched them play and all I felt

Was happiness inside.

 

How lovely when connections flow

From generations past.

We never know what will live on

From dies that we have cast.

The Day After Christmas

‘Twas the day after Christmas

And boxes were piled

With the remnants of gifts

Ripped apart by each child.

 

The dolls and accessories,

Sports gear and games,

All once wrapped up in paper

That nobody claims.

 

The presents from grown-ups,

Removed from their bags,

Join in with the packages,

Ribbons and tags.

 

In the compactor rooms

And outside, by the curbs,

Are what’s left of the bounty

In cities and ‘burbs. 

Roots

I water my plants

With my watering cup

And the soil becomes wet

As the roots drink it up.

 

The leaves, once a‘wilt

On their stems stand up straight

And I’m glad that their drink

Didn’t reach them too late.

 

Just like plants, we have roots

Which, when starved, make us droop

And at times, we’ll perk up

With some chicken-type soup.

 

But for humans, some kindness

Can have that effect,

Though it isn’t the cure

We should always expect.

Holiday Lights

Read about a family

With a house of sparkling lights,

Which take months for them to hang 

For weeks of festive Christmas nights.

They made the Guinness Records book

And people drive for miles

To cruise around their property 

With oohs and aahs and smiles.

Their neighbors, though, are not so pleased

With all the crowds and noise,

Which brings both trash and brightness 

And their quietude destroys.

When interviewed, the family said

They’d rather have a hand

In bringing joy to strangers,

Which their town should understand.

I see both sides, but what I know

Is that their huge display 

Makes me glad they’re not my neighbors -

If they were, I’d move away!

That Kind of Day

I wonder if it’s possible 

To have the kind of day

When everything is wonderful

In every kind of way.

You wake up feeling rested

And the weather’s on your side.

You get to do the things you love,

Take everything in stride.

There’s nothing getting on your nerves

And lots of cause to smile.

You’d think we each deserve that day,

At least once in a while.

Pajama Day

My grandkids have Pajama Day

From time to time in school,

So everyone wears PJ’s,

Which the kids find very cool.

I really don’t quite get it, though,

To wake up and to keep

The outfit on that you just wore

All night while fast asleep.

And even if you change into

Fresh PJ’s, I suppose

They can’t be much more comfy 

Than most routine school day clothes.

When I was young, Pajama Day

Would’ve made a lot more sense,

For I can cite my skirts and tights

And shoes as evidence.

But outfits worn today by kids -

The leggings and the sweats -

Are just about as comfortable 

As clothing ever gets.

Not My Holiday

To all who wish me Merry Christmas,

Thank you for the thought,

But my response is likely not

The one you might have sought.

 

For every year when Christmas comes,

I find I have to say

That, though the trees are lovely,

It is not my holiday.

 

Assuming we all celebrate,

Though joy is the intent,

Ignores the fact that there are

Other faiths to represent,

 

Plus those without religion.

“Seasons Greetings!” could extend

Those good wishes. “Happy Holidays!”

I’d also recommend.

Tailoring Thoughts

Everything’s been said before;

The goal’s to find a way

To tailor those familiar thoughts

To fit beneath your sway.

 

You choose a pattern and a swatch

Of fabric that appeals,

Then cut and stitch until, at last,

Your feelings it reveals.

 

Along the way, you change a word

Or rearrange a phrase,

Then try it on, assessing with

A slightly biased gaze.

 

When done, you snip the final thread

And put it on display,

Content to know you’ve said exactly

What you meant to say.

Free

Everyone likes something free

And I agree, to some degree,

But sometimes it occurs to me

We’re better off without it.

 

For if that item seems to be

A freebie, there may be a fee

Or postage; there’s no guarantee,

For fine print doesn’t shout it.

 

Still, when something’s gratis, we

Can’t pass it up and that’s the key;

When it is offered, we say, “Gee,

Well, thanks!” and don’t you doubt it.

A Puddle

When there is a torrential rain,

A puddle starts to form

And quickly turns into a lake,

Which shouldn’t be the norm.

 

Okay, I do exaggerate –

It’s closer to a pond,

Yet it’s too deep to wade through

If you want to get beyond.

 

This giant puddle (mini-pond)

Is on my walking path

And though I shouldn’t be surprised,

It does incur my wrath.

 

So I must then retrace my steps

And go a different way,

Which is exactly what I did

When on my walk today.

Ebb and Flow

They say that life is short, and yet,

If you’re like me, I’d place a bet

That childhood seems so long ago

You can’t recall its ebb and flow.

 

Of course, some days stand out, for sure,

When good or bad things we’d endure,

But how we lived from day to day?

That knowledge somehow’s slipped away.

 

Our current lives rush by so fast,

Which seems okay; the die’s been cast,

Though younger folk, with years ahead,

Will, too, grasp childhood by a thread.

The Blind Swimmer

The protocol when swimming

Is to circle in a lane.

At least that’s what my husband says;

From swimming I refrain.

 

You swim a lap and touch the wall

Then circle and return,

As all new members in the pool

Will very quickly learn.

 

The lanes are also designated

For the fast or slow

Or in-between and every swimmer

Knows where he should go.

 

Yet sometimes, in the slow lane,

Someone’s sticking to the side.

The rules of circling around

He simply won’t abide.

 

He bumps the other swimmers

Who, at first, all seem to mind,

Until they figure out that this

Is someone who is blind.

 

So what should the solution be?

Accommodations made?

The needs of one surpassing all

When justice has been weighed?

 

I have no answer, but opinions

Certainly will clash,

The end result most likely

Passed along with quite a splash.

Photo Greetings

The card says Happy Holidays!

But in each family pose

We understand the message

Such a blitz of photos shows.

Our lives are so much better

Than the ones that you might lead.

Our kids are cuter and our home

Is fabulous, indeed.

Just look at where we’ve traveled -

Our vacations were the best!

Don’t think about the fun you’ve missed

Or it will get you stressed.

We hope your holiday is great

Although we’re sure you know,

Compared to ours it will be worse,

No matter where you go. 

Thinking

Thinking is for those of us

Who have some extra time,

Especially when all those thoughts

Are written out in rhyme.

 

For when days are super busy

And our brains are hard at work,

It’s impossible to wallow where

Ideas or stressors lurk.

 

Yet when hours stretch out empty,

It’s too easy to obsess,

So what should lead to relaxing

Often veers right into stress.

 

Thinking’s highly overrated

For, as many people find,

Thoughts may, like invasive species,

Overpopulate your mind.

A Not-So-Gentle-Push

It’s easy to do nothing –

Sit at home and park your tush,

But sometimes you must give yourself

A not-so-gentle push.

 

And so, on this delightful day

With sunshine in the sky,

I took the subway to a store

With things I like to buy.

 

The streets were filled with tourists

And the shops festooned with lights.

I stopped to see the Christmas tree

That soars to dizzy heights.

 

It wasn’t super crowded

And I splurged and bought a dress.

My little push gave me a day

Which was a sweet success.

Rules are for Fools

Rules are for fools.

They don’t teach that in schools

But that’s surely the way it appears.

For to me, what I see

Is that, to a degree,

Rules are writings that nobody fears.

 

So the grass that I pass

Says no dogs, but en masse,

There are always a bunch racing ‘round.

On the train, folks refrain

From the need to obtain

Means to pay, so fare beaters abound.

 

More and more, I am sure,

Life was better before

When we treated the law with respect;

But today, there’s no way

To keep outlaws at bay,

So the worst’s what we’ve come to expect.

Getting Together on Zoom

When getting together on Zoom,

It seems like we’re in the same room.

You might say just a face

Could in no way replace

Someone’s presence or warmth or perfume.

 

Yet, to me, the connection appeals,

For, though such a small picture conceals

The whole body below

What that square gets to show

Is enough to know how someone feels.

 

Sure, it’s better when hugs are exchanged,

But a Zoom can, with ease, be arranged.

There’s no travel involved

So such problems are solved

And the latest news gets interchanged.

Certain Dates

Certain dates we don’t forget

For it is automatic

To think about events which

In our lives were quite traumatic.

 

November twenty-second and

Eleventh of September

Are dates my generation

Will just naturally remember.

 

But other dates are personal

And even if I tried,

I never could forget today,

The date my father died.

 

Each year I flash back to that time

And feel that jolt of pain

That 12/10 on the calendar

Will trigger in my brain.

At the Post Office

Had to mail some packages;

Waited on a line.

Didn’t take too long and really,

Everything was fine.

 

Still, I was surprised to see

My matched-up window clerk

Was talking on the phone, non-stop,

The whole time she did work.

 

She never said a word to me,

Just pointed at a screen.

I guess this was a very normal

Part of her routine.

 

Perhaps, without her ear buds

And her phone call she’d be lost,

But maybe she’d have noticed

FRAGILE! on each box she tossed.

First Night

Our holiday was musical

(The food was yummy, too)

Because our grandkids each received

A shiny new kazoo.

To add to the festivities,

Another gift revealed

Harmonicas, which both of them

Did very proudly wield.

With latkes, dreidels, presents and,

Of course, the candles lit,

Our Chanukah was lovely and

My cookies were a hit.

We won’t all be together for

The candles left to light,

But the glow will carry forward

From the sweetness of last night.

RIP Norman Lear

Archie Bunker broke the mold,

All thanks to Norman Lear

And we should all be grateful 

For his brilliant career.

It took a lot of guts to raise

The level of TV

From strictly fluff to shows that dealt 

With stark reality.

Of course, injecting humor helped

When bigots were involved

And even after watching, no one’s

Problems were resolved.

Yet subjects were discussed which made

The audience applaud,

From Archie, Edith, Sanford 

To the Jeffersons and Maude.

To younger folk, his contributions 

Might not be so clear,

But every sitcom owes a debt

To gutsy Norman Lear.

Keeping a Promise

Flew home from vacation

(Glad my flight was not delayed)

And started baking cookies

For a promise had been made.

 

Tomorrow night starts Chanukah;

Tradition thus decrees

That my grandma’s age-old recipe

Be trotted out to please.

 

I counted on those cookies

In my childhood every year,

So each December it was

Guaranteed they would appear.

 

My grandson asked about them

So before I went away,

I made the dough and froze it;

That’s the reason why today

 

I hastily unpacked and then

Began to prep and bake.

A promise to my grandson

Isn’t one that I would break.

The World of Coca Cola

At the World of Coca Cola

Were mementos by the score,

All of Coke-related products,

Bottles, cans and so much more.

There were posters from the 50’s,

Coke machines and pins and toys

And collectors’ items for the drink

Most everyone enjoys.

After watching little films and

Taking quizzes just for fun,

Our last stop was in the tasting room

Before the tour was done.

There we sampled many flavors

‘Til at last we’d had enough.

I would recommend a visit,

Though I never drink the stuff!

At the Atlanta Zoo

In all of the United States,

Four pandas still remain,

Until next year, when they’ll return

Back home to their terrain.

So being in Atlanta,

Where these bears are on display,

We visited the zoo and had

A most delightful day.

Of course, we watched the pandas

As they munched on their bamboo,

But there were much more interesting

Animals on view.

My favorites were gorillas,

For we saw them interact,

As they beat their chests at kith or kin

Then sneakily attacked.

The pandas got us to the zoo

And I’m so glad they did,

The way aromas can entice 

To what’s beneath the lid.

City Vacations

To some, vacations mean a beach,

With nothing but relaxing.

To go to a museum 

Would be boring, even taxing.

But both my husband and myself

Prefer to go exploring 

In cities where we’ve never been

To do a little touring.

We seek museums, stores and parks

And neighborhoods to walk through 

Where maybe we will come across 

Some locals we can talk to.

A different setting’s always great,

No matter what it’s costing,

But, unlike basking in the sun,

It’s just a touch exhausting.

Grounded

Writing a poem keeps me grounded;

It’s what I accomplish each day.

With stimuli I am surrounded,

Providing so much I can say.

 

Responding to Nature’s inspiring

As well as the news that that I read,

For what in the world is transpiring

Often gives me the push that I need.

 

My family and friends keep me going,

The grandkids a source of delight,

Supplying me, as they are growing,

With endless incentives to write.

 

But mostly, my poems are revealing

Of sentiments trapped in my brain,

Which, written in rhyme, tap each feeling

I otherwise couldn’t explain.

Only in Congress

Only in Congress could somebody lie

And earn more than a nurse or a teacher,

With tales so outrageous no one could deny

That his chutzpah must be his best feature.

Expelled by his peers (he refused to resign),

Representative Santos insisted 

That he’d done nothing wrong, never crossed any line,

But his logic was crazy and twisted.  

So charged with conspiracy, credit card fraud,

Identity theft and some scheming,

We all should be able to cheer and applaud

As reports of his ouster keep streaming.

My question to Congress is why did it take

Months of fighting to get him ejected?

Though looking at Congress, my only mistake

Is not thinking this should be expected.

The Princess of Procrastination

I’m the Princess of Procrastination –

Bow down at my feet!

For I’m the best example

Of delaying you could meet.

 

Go through closets? Get a haircut?

Start to organize my book?

Work on projects that are waiting

For a first or second look?

 

Days go by and I get lost in

Following my set routines.

If I contemplate diverging,

Somehow something intervenes.

 

So to you, my loyal subjects,

If your stalling’s got you down,

Glance my way and you’ll feel better,

For I proudly wear the crown.

Charity

Calendars and note cards,

Labels by the score,

Memo pads and bookmarks,

Wrapping paper, sometimes more.

 

Every single charity

Reaches out to see

If any of their offers

Unlocks generosity.

 

For some I get the checkbook

(Yes, old-fashioned, but it works)

And send in a donation

To offset those little perks.

 

But after I am dead and gone,

My family, bereft,

Will be shocked at just how many

Address labels I have left.