Hours to Fill

The day has many hours to fill

And most are unconsidered,

So often, we’re surprised by

All the time that we have frittered.

 

Yet sometimes, there’s a giant gap,

With minutes that are waiting

To see what we’ll resort to,

What ideas are percolating.

 

Most often, it’s the most mundane –

The phone, TV or reading

That makes the time slip quickly by,

The empty hours receding.

 

Before we know it, day is done;

We prep for life tomorrow

When, likely, we’ll look back and wish

For minutes we could borrow.

Youngest

As the oldest child, I got to choose

Before my other sibs.

From where to sit or what to do,

I was awarded dibs.

 

The fact of being older meant

I had a certain clout

That might have caused resentment

But was always straightened out.

 

My younger grandchild, though, believes

Her status holds the keys

To open every door she can

Which “youngest” guarantees.

 

She doesn’t think it’s fair the order

Of her brother’s birth

Allows him any privileges,

But then, for what it’s worth,

 

If “oldest” has no value,

“Youngest” has to be the same.

Too bad there is no middle child

Around to fan the flame.

Pedigree Cuisine

Perhaps for dinner you might try

A steak and veggie plate

Or some chicken wrapped in nori,

Such a treat to masticate!

At some eateries, the menus

Are creative as food gets,

Which is really a surprise because

The customers are pets.

San Francisco’s restaurant “Dogue”

And Manhattan’s “Judy Z’s”

Offer rawhide bones and cupcakes,

All with canine tastes to please.

Though I understand that owners

Love their dogs, I must admit 

Fancy dog meals in a restaurant

Just seems inappropriate.

In Hand

A mom and child of five passed by,

Up from the ferry crowd.

The mother focused on the path;

The daughter’s head was bowed.

 

The walkway, tended lovingly

By garden volunteers,

Was bursting with the flora that

This time, each spring, appears.

 

Amid the tulips, daffodils

And pink and purple blooms,

A host of birds alit, attracted

By their sweet perfumes.

 

The girl, though, was oblivious,

For tightly clutched in hand,

Her mother’s cellphone all of her

Attention did demand.

 

It seems a shame that childhood,

With such beauty there to glean,

Misses out on making memories,

Distracted by a screen.

Pretzel Day

Today is Pretzel Day – hooray!

So when it’s time for snacks,

Indulge in salty twists or sticks

To help your mood relax.

 

Or maybe try some pretzel rods

Or ones with honey wheat

Or peanut butter stuffed inside,

A high caloric treat.

 

You might opt for the soft-baked type

With sprinkled salt or seeds.

A squirt of mustard on the top’s

All anybody needs.

 

Though chips or popcorn top my list

When salty snacks I crave,

Today, because it’s Pretzel Day,

My preferences I’ll waive.

Iridescent

My new clogs are iridescent,

Making people stop and stare,

Which doesn’t happen to the other

Shoes that I might wear.

The color’s kind of different 

From the way they looked online,

Yet once I tried them on I knew,

Of course, that they’d be mine.

First they’re greenish, then they’re purple,

Like some feathers on a duck.

If you’re trying to describe them,

You’d be mostly out of luck.

For the thing with iridescence 

Is the way the colors shift,

Though their very changeability

Helps make my spirits lift.

A Dog Named Leo

I pass a dog named Leo

Sometimes on my morning walks.

Off leash, he goes exploring

While his owner stops and talks.

 

He’s black and white with stand-up ears,

His body low and squat,

But his wagging tail stands out,

The finest feature that he’s got.

 

Other canines save their wagging

For a dog-specific reason –

Recognition or approval or

As thanks for something pleasin.’

 

Yet with Leo, it’s just joy

That he apparently exudes,

As rare in dogs as humans

With such upbeat attitudes.

 

Seeing Leo makes me happy;

I cannot resist a smile

When he prances past so gaily

In his beatific style.

A Stitch in Rhyme

A quilt is a poem that’s been crafted

With stitches that cleverly mime

The words that a poet has drafted

In manner and rhythm and rhyme.

 

For in piecing a pattern together,

Every section, once stark and alone,

Must be seamlessly tailored to tether

It to others when carefully sewn

 

Just like adjectives, verbs and conjunctions

Plus the other unnamed parts of speech

Let the writer arrange, so their functions

Form the meanings that readers can reach.

 

When the final thread’s snipped from the needle

And the pencil has made its last mark,

Neither quilter nor poet need wheedle

For responses their efforts should spark.

On Earth Day

Earth Day’s not a worth day

For the skeptics and polluters

And, add to that, the bigots and

The ask-no-question shooters.

 

For those who value someone’s life

So little they’d take aim

And fire a weapon with no thought

That they could kill or maim

 

Most certainly don’t care about

The animals and plants

Or rescuing our planet

When, right now, we have a chance.

 

It’s sad to think about the earth

That we will leave behind,

But even worse to face

The callousness of humankind.

A Composition Notebook

Before I had a loose leaf

And no spirals were around,

A composition notebook

Would on classroom desks be found.

With their classic black-white covers

In a marbled-type design,

They were owned by every student

Who would fill in every line.

Now, of course, they’re kind of retro

And they come in every hue

So the covers have these swirls of white

With red or green or blue.

I’m now writing in a mini-one

Which makes me reminisce

About my schoolgirl days

When I would print in books like this.

Everybody's Mishegoss

Everybody’s mishegoss*

Is different from our own.

One person’s crazy fears won’t match

The ones to which we’re prone.

 

Spending time with others

May surprisingly reveal

Ideas and actions out of sync

With how we live or feel.

 

For all of us succumb to

Thoughts irrational, which lack

A basis in reality,

Appearing out of whack.

 

Yet we cling to our perceptions,

Feeling justified and smug

While opinions that may differ

Will be greeted with a shrug.

 

Everybody’s mishegoss,

Perfected and unique,

May surprise or disconcert us

When we manage just a peek.

 

*craziness

Nature’s Brush

The daffodils have sprouted 

With a few now past their prime.

The bright green hedges sit and wait 

For bugs to start to climb.

Yet all the trees are brown and bare

With not a leaf in sight,

Preparing for conditions to be

Just exactly right.

The optimal amount of sun,

Warm temperatures and rain

Will let them know it’s time for buds

To blanket their domain.

When everything’s aligned, there’ll be

A burgeoning of green

And only then will Nature’s brush

Complete its springtime scene.

A Tiny Home Improvement

A tiny home improvement 

Can instill a sense of pride

For your efforts are apparent 

And results can’t be denied.

Taking charge and getting started

Are the hardest things to do,

But if things go as you’ve planned them,

All the credit goes to you.

So today I finally tackled

Unattractive kitchen shelves,

Adding bright new contact paper

Meant for folks to do themselves.

Every item got a cleaning 

And a bunch of things got tossed

And the finished project’s worthy 

Of the hours that it cost.

Just a minor home improvement 

Yet I gave myself a gift

With some freshly covered shelving

And a lovely spirit lift.

A Glider

On the back porch is a glider;

I can sit on it and glide.

It’s just perfect for relaxing

When I want to be outside.

Don’t confuse it with a rocker,

Though they both cause you to move,

Since a rocking chair takes effort,

Like it’s got something to prove

But the glider keeps on going 

Once you’ve given it a start.

There are those, though, who still claim

That they can’t tell the two apart.

For to many, like my husband, 

Neither one do they prefer.

When they sit down to relax,

They want no movement to occur.

That’s why stores that feature seating

Have assortments to provide 

Chairs and couches that just sit there,

Plus the kinds that rock and glide.

Bird Talk

Different birds have different chirps 

So I began to wonder,

Can they communicate

Or do their chirps tear them asunder?

Is all the varied twitter 

More like dialects? If so,

They’d understand each other

But with accents they would know.

Or does each bird breed have language

That is only recognized

By the others in their grouping?

That’s the answer I’ve surmised.

So if cardinals and chickadees

Would somehow get to meet,

There would be no ruffled feathers 

Since they’d not exchange a tweet.

I'll Take the Sheep

I heard a relaxation tape

That’s meant to help you sleep,

Its soothing tones enticing you

To slumber, sans the sheep.

 

A female voice suggested

That you focus on your day,

Especially on upbeat things

Encountered on your way.

 

Think back on all the foods you ate,

The veggies and the fruit,

Reflecting on where they were grown

And where they went en route.

 

Next concentrate on someone who

Brings joy and makes you smile

And hopefully your eyes will close

Or start to, in a while.

 

The disembodied voice droned on,

Releasing to the void

Suggestions which may work for some,

But just made me annoyed.

A Pink-Hued Tree

I know that every time I see

The pink-hued blossoms of a tree

There’s no way I can feel depressed,

For this is Nature at her best.

The rosy petals gently sway

When breezes blow and if they stay

Some flowers flutter through the air

And near the trunk add color there.

Throughout the spring, these trees retain

Their beauty and will thus remain

The muse for rhyming poetry

Like Kilmer wrote, improved by me!

“Succession”

I rarely watch a TV show

The night that it first airs,

So sometimes there’s a lot of hype

To catch me unawares.

This happened with”Succession,”

For this season’s number 3

Had both friends and stories in The Times

All reaching out to me.

I won’t divulge the secret 

But it’s interesting to note 

Just how many people to this series

Time and thoughts devote.

Before I read the articles,

I sat and watched the show,

So now, at least, I’m all caught up

In what I need to know.

Cakeage

The word of the day is cakeage;

It’s when restaurants charge a fee

For bringing in an outside cake,

Which never used to be.

In fancy places, oenophiles 

Prefer to bring their wine,

So there’s a corkage fee, which many

Seem to feel is fine.

But up’til now, I’ve never heard

Of anything called cakeage,

Though dot com dictionaries likely

Don’t make a mistakeage.

A Sunny Tuesday

Leggings, short shorts and capris,

Longer shorts that graze the knees,

Drawstrings, even dungarees 

Are all out on display.

T-shirts, tank tops, jackets, sweats,

Midriff barers, sans regrets,

Shirts as varied as it gets

Are in full force today.

Hokas and New Balance vie

With Skechers, Nikes and, no lie,

Some sandals have come strolling by,

With boots mixed in the fray.

It isn’t cold but not yet hot

So people wear what they have got

And no one really cares a lot,

For that’s the urban way.

.

Taking Selfies

There’s a woman taking selfies

In a very public place,

Holding up her phone and smiling.

Though it’s not quite a disgrace

 

It’s a little disconcerting,

Something once we’d never do.

In the past, we’d set our cameras

With nobody else in view.

 

Yet the current generations,

Used to me-me-me-me-me!

Will do anything to pose themselves

Where anyone can see.

 

Then with Instagram or Facebook,

They will add their latest post,

Just to prove to everyone that they

Enjoy themselves the most!

 

But of course, what we can’t fathom

Is, behind each smiling face,

What the motivation is and what

That grin tries to replace.

People-Watching

When I people-watch, I wonder

Who they are and where they live

Through the hints that they unconsciously,

Or with their knowledge, give.

 

Have they moved here after college

Or come searching for a job?

In their rentals or their sublets,

Who’s a neatnik? Who’s a slob?

 

Are they happy in the city?

Do they miss where they were raised?

Do the crowds and noises freak them out

Or are they quite unfazed?

 

Where they headed on this Sunday?

Is there someplace they must be?

Or perhaps they’re out to just relax

And people-watch, like me.

Water Views

I like the kind of water view

Where I can see the shore,

With lots of possibilities

To visit or explore.

 

I gaze at buildings, trees and parks

And wonder what it’s like

To live there or just spend some time

To wander ‘round or hike.

 

No matter if I’m on a boat

Or sitting on the land,

The river helps me to relax

In ways I understand.

 

However, on an ocean cruise,

With water all around,

I feel uneasy, knowing that

I’m far from solid ground.

 

What many may find calming

In a vista oh, so vast,

Has the opposite effect on me,

‘Til I see land at last.

Being a Grandparent

Explaining grandkids to your friends

Who have none is, I find,

Like trying to describe chartreuse

To someone who is blind.

 

For your grandkids bring out feelings

That nobody else can match,

Laying bare an itch you never knew

You had, but now can scratch.

 

As a parent, you experience

The fiercest love and pride

Intertwined with the anxiety

That childhood does provide.

 

Though when one becomes a nana

(Or whatever term you pick),

All you’ve learned plus new beginnings

Come together with a click.

 

There’s a closeness through your child

But a paramount remove,

So you have a chance to bond and kvell*

With nothing left to prove.

 

Yet before I had my grandkids,

I would surely have dismissed

Ever needing them, but now I know

The joy I would have missed.

 

*to beam with pride and joy

Pull-Out Couches

Our apartment has one bedroom

And 900 feet of space,

But that is where our festive meal,

This year, was taking place.

 

As we cleaned and cooked, preparing

For the dinner and before,

We knew there would be a special treat

For all of us in store.

 

Both our grandkids would stay over

When our son and wife would leave,

Sharing sleep space on the sofa,

Not too crazy to believe.

 

While our daughter, too, would join us

On another pull-out couch,

All attesting to their comfort

To which each of them would vouch.

 

With one bathroom, we all managed;

We had fun and no one griped.

It was wonderful, for sure,

But now they’re home and I am wiped!

Pre-Seder Afternoon

The holiday’s at sunset 

So the afternoon before

Is time for eating food

We won’t be eating anymore.

No bread or beer or pasta -

Not a bagel for a week!

I’ve been doing this since childhood,

So there‘ll be no need to sneak.

It’s bizarre - I’m not religious

But tradition reigns supreme

And restricting what you eat is not

As hard as it might seem.

Of course, we use some substitutes 

For cooking and to bake

And there are lots of recipes 

For foods that we can make.

Tonight there will be matzoh balls

In soup to start our feast, 

With 8 more days of special meals,

Until we are released.

Etching the Day

I love a room that overlooks

A river or the sea 

For, on a terrace with some books

Is where I like to be.

A sunny seat, a view with boats

And birdsong in the air,

A husband who, who upon me, dotes -

Why, nothing can compare!

A mid-day ice cream, browsing stores,

A walk along the shore,

A bowl of mussels, Guinness pours -

Well, who could ask for more?

But all good things must end, they say,

So now we’re heading home

And on my way I’ve etched the day

Into my daily poem.

Birthday Gal

You plan a day and never know

Exactly how that day will go

For glitches happen, even though 

You’ve done your very best.

Yet when all aspects seem to flow

And happy moments start to grow,

Your spirits soar snd and make you glow,

In every way expressed.

A view more lovely than Van Gogh

And non-stop wishes all bestow 

On me, the birthday gal, a show 

Of joy that’s unsuppressed.

Birth and Death

My parents never lived to be

The age that I am now.

My father’s heart and mother’s brain

Ran out of steam somehow.

They never knew their grandkids

Nor the greats who’ve come along,

Which couldn’t have been helped and yet

Seems sad and even wrong.

My mother’s Yahrzeit’s* coming up;

My birthday is as well,

A fact that brings me yearly 

To where I don’t like to dwell.

*a Jewish day of remembering a deceased loved one

which includes lighting a special candle

April Fools' Day

Today’s a time for breaking rules

And telling jokes and playing pranks,

Since it’s the day of April Fools;

For warning you, I need no thanks.

 

Just be aware of what you hear

Or what you see or even read.

On April Fools’ the atmosphere

May swirl around with smiles we need.

 

The weather even seems confused –

First rain, then sun and later, storms,

With Mother Nature quite amused

As coats are shed from wind that warms.

 

Right now I’m soaking up the sun;

My calendar is newly flipped.

For what takes place ‘til day is done,

I think I’m fairly well-equipped.