The Verdict

“Guilty as charged!” came the jurors’ report,

Reflecting that justice was served.

The law of the land says to follow the court,

So the verdict was what was deserved.

The defendant, of course, didn’t seem to agree

But instead of accepting the news,

He disparaged the judge and the system so we

Might accept all his nasty, warped views.

When our country was founded, civility ruled

And the leaders worked hard on the laws.

What I hope is that voters won’t somehow be fooled

By a felon with nothing but flaws.

The Sneakers

The sneakers, on the wall arrayed

With heightened soles, make me afraid

They won't be comfortable at all

Or worse, they might just make me fall.

When styles appear that seem improved

And expectations might have moved,

The target audience is young,

Which I do not belong among.

Nobody cares what I might buy

And thus, that is the reason why

When searching for a brand-new shoe,

I'll focus on the tried and true.

The Greeter

The drug store has a greeter,

There to welcome you inside.

He also helps at check-out,

Where some people need a guide.

His smile is big and friendly,

So he gets grins in return,

Which the store should use to influence

Whatever he might earn.

Since the city's huge and crowded,

It is wonderful to find

An employee who spreads joy

With every customer in mind.

The Yellow Swing

The yellow plastic swing once hung 

From branches on a tree

And we would push our daughter there,

Not knowing what would be.

For when a baby’s young, the future’s

Filled with hope and dreams,

Yet every path ahead may not be

Easy as it seems.

Still, as she grew, our daughter stayed

A sweet and happy child

And always on that yellow swing,

She clapped her hands and smiled.

As years went by, she got too big

And couldn’t really fit.

The swing was placed inside the shed;

I never thought of it.

Until today, a cleaning spree 

And on a shelf, I found

That faded swing, no use at all

To anyone around.

I tossed it out, but it brought back

Those times from long ago

When I was so oblivious

To all I’d come to know.

Severe Thunderstorm

It came in waves, the wind and rain,

With just a clap of thunder,

But while it raged, it seemed insane,

Surroundings ripped asunder.

Then it would stop, the branches stilled;

The sky would start to lighten,

Forecast promises fulfilled,

With just enough to frighten. 

When bam! The gusts would start anew,

A downpour set for drenching

And there was nothing we could do;

The storm was all-entrenching.

It isn’t over as I write,

Though now’s the time for pausing.

I wonder if we’ll see tonight

What damage this is causing. 

The Scoop

Waiting for ice cream

And looking around,

All versions of people

Are there to be found:

The old and the toddlers,

The skinny and fat,

The bald and the bearded,

The full-bodied tat;

The neat and the slobby ,

The antsy and calm,

Each there for the ice cream,

A sticky day balm.

I doubt we’d be sharing

Political views,

But united deciding

Which flavor to choose.

Spiffing Up

Replacing old things for so many’s a snap.

An upgrade, to them, is a breeze;

But I get bogged down in a kind of a trap -

Any change brings me down to my knees.

If it works, I can live with it, though it looks frayed,

Maybe faded or just out of style 

And no matter its worth, for whatever I paid,

It’s been looking its age for a while.

Yet at last I’ve decided to spiff up my space

And so little by little, I’ve started,

But saying farewell to what I might replace

Feels a bit like a friend has departed.

A Quilted Pillow

In quilting class (which meets on Zoom),

I followed the directions,

By cutting, pinning, basting, sewing

All the different sections.

I kept up with the teacher 

(Which for me is very rare),

So during “show and tell” I had

A project I could share.

With the pillow insert stuffed inside,

I fluffed it all the way

And proudly placed it on the couch,

My hard work on display.

Creative Juices

Everyone’s creative juices,

Tucked away inside,

Might show up at different times

Or always seem to hide.

 

For I believe that each of us

Is capable enough

To use his talents to produce

Some quite amazing stuff.

 

No matter what the outlet –

Be it crafts or words or art,

Maybe food or sport or decorating -

It just needs a start.

 

It’s sad to think that some deny

Or else refuse to show

Their creative juices, which just need

A push to make them flow.

The Final Mosaics Class

I watched the projects taking shape,

All varied in design –

A tree, a flower, a giraffe,

All different from mine.

 

One displayed a pot of blooms,

Another one huge eye,

Each finished effort proving

This was surely worth a try.

 

With some guidance from our teachers,

Grout was slathered ‘til it dried,

Then we gently wiped it off

And showed our artwork off with pride.

 

Trying something new’s a challenge

But the effort you expend

May, like making a mosaic,

Come together in the end.

A Giant Thwack

While waiting for a parking place,

Our handyman was stumped

To hear a giant thwack

Upon his roof, which something bumped.

 

The “something” was a squirrel

Which had fallen from a tree.

His first reaction (as was mine) was

“Man, how could this be?”

 

He stepped outside to check it out –

There was a major dent –

As the squirrel scrambled to get off

And then, away he went.

 

Though squirrels leap from branch to branch

And climb to store their nuts,

Apparently there is, at least,

One squirrel who’s a klutz.

Watching the Dance

The dancers ranged from tiny tots

In tutus meant for twirls

To those performing hip hop moves

Designed for older girls.

 

There also were performances

In modern dance and jazz,

With everybody showing off

Their talent and pizzazz.

 

We watched the whole two hour show

And clapped for each routine,

But saved our cheering for the times

Our granddaughter was seen.

 

She nailed her hip hop attitude,

Her ponytail a’sway

And sparkled in the jazz part,

Smiles and sequins on display.

 

How special to experience

A showing that reveals

All the pride in an accomplishment

And joy a grandchild feels.

My Antenna

As a city gal, I’m constantly

Aware of what surrounds me,

From everything familiar

To a sight that might astound me.

 

Yet always I am on alert,

Attuned to what I feel,

For danger may be lurking

In my mind or else for real.

 

It isn’t paranoia,

Just the way that things can be,

So I trust in my antenna

When a message comes to me.

 

Which is why I made a U-turn

Early morning, on my walk –

A suspicious guy, an empty path,

Appropriate to balk.

 

Most likely, he was harmless,

But without a second glance,

I just followed my antenna

In this urban-safety dance.

A Desert

My brain is a desert

Today; I can’t lie.

There’s nothing to write of,

Although I can try.

 

The walk by the river?

The foods I did eat?

The book I just finished?

The crossword complete?

 

The shoes I discarded

Since new ones arrived?

The plants freshly watered,

Surprised they’ve survived?

 

I guess that the desert

Some cacti call home

And that is the reason

I’ve written this poem.

26 Days

With 26 days left of school,

The teachers of 5th grade

Devised a list for every day

And thus a plan was made.

So following the alphabet,

Each date has something set.

Today, Adventure Day was

Most exciting, I would bet.

For all 5th graders got to tour

The middle school to see

Exactly where, when school begins 

Next year, they’re going to be.

On other dates they’ll get to have

Some X-tra time to play

Or perform a singing Broadway show

On special Music day.

The countdown goes to Zero

Since they’ll graduate and then,

In middle school a longer countdown

Will begin again.

A Small Surprise

On my morning walk, which is

Adjacent to the river,

A small surprise is sometimes what

The city does deliver.

 

So yesterday, I heard a thump,

Metallic, so I slowed,

Expecting that a hubcap flew

From somewhere on the road.

 

Instead, I saw a sewer cover

Quaking as it rose

And crashed back down above a spot

Where the East River flows.

 

Thought number 1: a creature

Would be rising from the deep

And then his scaly self into

My neighborhood would creep.

 

Thought number 2: a prisoner

(Like “Shawshank”) would break free

Because from Rikers Island

There’s a chance that it could be.

 

Thought number 3: the river (high)

Would suddenly erupt

And shoot that cover skyward

In a manner most abrupt.

 

In any case, I hurried on

Without a backward glance,

Not willing, having had those thoughts,

To take the slightest chance.

Mosaics Class - Day 2

Day 2 in my mosaics class,

I started to improve,

For once I had a subject,

I could get into the groove.

 

I sketched an owl like Flaco,

Who was known in Central Park

And it seems that all I needed

To get going was a spark.

 

Special tools helped cut the tiles,

Which I glued onto a board

As the project started taking shape,

Progression my reward.

An Amazon Box

We expected an Amazon box,

Which had toothpaste and sandals and socks,

Plus a few odds and ends

Which, when Amazon sends,

Rarely ends up with stumbling blocks.

 

Yet the package, this time, never came

And we’re not really sure who to blame,

For the app said, “You’ll find

That the doorman had signed,”

But he didn’t, despite what they claim.

 

Finding someone to help was a chore –

Service isn’t like it was before –

But at last we were told

There’s a one-day long hold

So the whereabouts they can explore.

 

We will wait before calling their bluff,

Though I doubt that they’ll locate our stuff.

Once I thought they were great

But I’ve noticed, of late,

Amazon isn’t quite up to snuff.

The Auction House

Open to the public,

There are paintings to peruse,

Plus some sketches and some sculpture

For the connoisseur to choose.

 

On the days before an auction

I will wander through the space,

Wond’ring if there’s a Picasso

Or Monet I can embrace.

 

Just today I saw Pissarros,

Norman Rockwells and Matisse.

There were quite a few Chagalls

All hanging, waiting for release.

 

Though I’m lucky to be able

To see art that so enthralls,

Think how privileged are the buyers

Who’ll hang some on their own walls!

Special Needs

My daughter met her boyfriend

At a camp for “special needs.”

Their story started years ago

And this is where it leads –

 

To her birthday celebration,

Which was perfect, yesterday,

Near at and that boyfriend’s home,

A distance two-plus hours away.

 

We met early at a diner

For a yummy breakfast meal;

Next came bowling and some mini-golf,

Which both have much appeal.

 

And the day kept getting better,

For the boyfriend had prepared

The most festive birthday venue,

Showing just how much he cared.

 

In his yard there were balloons and signs

And music for the mood,

Plus a slide show of their years together

And some special food.

 

With his chef’s hat and his apron,

Brett cooked burgers on the grill

And his mom provided sides and drinks

Of which we had our fill.

 

There were candles on a lovely cake

And presents to unwrap,

Plus, we got to hang with Leo

And meet Ezra (‘fore her nap).

 

As we all sang “Happy Birthday” –

Brett, his bro-in-law and sis

And his mom and niece and nephew,

Me & Mel, I thought of this –

 

That each one of us, in different ways,

Has “special needs” and yet,

With resolve and love, the day can be

As good as it can get.

Portable Pizza

The pizza trucks were parked outside

With bakers rolling dough 

And spreading it to fit the pans,

The toppings set to go.

The crusts were thin and crispy;

The veggies, sauce and cheese

Were baked to such perfection

That they couldn’t help but please.

Attendees lined up patiently

And generously plated

While just outside, the pizza people

Prepped for those who waited.

How cool and modern, this approach 

To feeding all the crowd.

No fuss, no muss for those who host,

Yet all who eat are wowed.

Heart and Brain

My father’s death was from his heart,

My mother’s from her brain

And so I wonder which, for me,

Might just be on the wane.

Of course, there is no guarantee

That I will follow suit,

For in the future, we all know

There is no absolute.

So far, my heart is ticking fine

And even with some quirks,

My brain, despite some CRS,*

Apparently still works.

*Can’t remember spit (or its rhyming improvement)

The Lingo

Lawyers have a lingo

That’s like gibberish to me.

The same is true for those who have

A medical degree.

 

I guess with any specialty,

The lingo is unique

And understood by colleagues,

Yet to others sounds like Greek.

 

When language is exclusive,

It’s a pathway to connect

But to those without the lingo,

There’s the opposite effect.

Mosaics Class

I am not artistic, but

I signed up for a class

To learn to make mosaics

Out of little bits of glass.

 

We studied some examples

From a long-past ancient date

Then received our own materials

With which we could create.

 

I watched my classmates jump right in,

Ideas at their command,

While staring blankly at the tiles

And glue I had at hand.

 

With paper and a pencil,

I can quickly craft a rhyme.

My talents don’t extend to places

Where the words aren’t prime.

 

Yet I’ll complete my project

And will proudly bring it home,

Knowing it will never equal

Even my worst-written poem.

In a Car

It’s hard to get from A to B

If you are in a car,

Although I guess it could depend,

Of course, on where you are.

 

In New York’s metro area,

The traffic’s so much worse

Than just a few short years ago;

It’s really quite perverse.

 

The GPS diverts us

To some roads we do not know

And even then, construction makes

The going very slow.

 

So trips are twice as long (or more!)

As they’re supposed to be.

The lesson to be learned from this

Is very clear to me:

 

Leave extra time for traveling

Whenever you may roam,

But even better, park your car

And just stay close to home.

Cleaning Out the Shed

We’re cleaning out the shed 

And tossing out a lot of stuff.

Although we’ve filled up several bags,

It isn’t quite enough.

There’s so much more that’s left for us

To go through and decide

If it is destined for the dump

Or gets to stay inside.

Old toys and games and pots and pans

And papers we don’t need,

Which shouldn’t have been saved if I

Had let my husband lead.

But clinging to the past is what

I often do instead,

Which I could not have done as much

Had we not built the shed.

By a Nose

Twenty horses in the race,

The winner by a nose.

The Derby sometimes mimics life,

For that’s the way it goes.

At times we might get beaten by

A rival for a house

Or job or placement for a school

Or even for a spouse.

Yet there are times that we may be

The nose that comes in first.

It’s always unpredictable 

And cannot be reversed.

So kudos to the winning horse

And jockey in the race,

For maybe in a future run,

They will not even place.

My Garden Spinner

The first time it was missing parts 

And so it was returned.

Today, with the replacement, well,

The lesson had been learned.

So I followed the directions

And, with patience and a bit

Of assistance from my husband,

I assembled all of it.

The hardest part was getting it

To stand up in the soil.

The ground is very rocky;

From some tries it did recoil.  

But finally, my spinner is

Secured out on the yard.

When I am on my porch, it is

The first thing I regard.

It took a little effort

But I told my friend who sent it

That it really makes me happy

And I hope she knows I meant it.

Aging Braincells

Aging braincells get rewired

And one way I surely know it

Is that I am always tired 

And my face and body show it.

Even after hours of sleeping,

If I sit to read a book,

Sometimes drowsiness comes creeping

And it grabs me with a hook.

Or, if slightly after eating, 

I relax and watch TV,

I’ll doze off before completing

“Law and Order: SUV.”*

Seems within that tangled webbing

Of our brains, the gears are clicking;

Thus our energy, now ebbing,

Lets us know the clock is ticking.

*It’s really “Law and Order SVU,” but

SUV is how my husband & I refer to it.

College Graduation

Watched the graduation 

Of my nephew via Zoom,

Along with many others 

From afar, I would assume.

Heard the speeches, saw the march

Of students, one by one

And stuck with it until

The final exit walk was done.

How cool it was to witness

All the graduates receive

A fresh diploma filled with pride 

And hope they must believe

Will help them find their path in life.

Whatever lies ahead,

At least they’ll have the memory

Of when their names were read.

The Final Stage

We save some money, if we can,

So when we’re up in age,

We’ll have enough to get us through

That final “elder” stage.

 

To me, that always meant that I’d

Be set for life to spend

On all the things I love to do

Right up until the end.

 

But lawyers talk of nursing homes

Or live-in help or worse

And all my hard-earned savings

Someday might just pay a nurse.

 

Instead of using money

To get through old age with ease,

I’d much prefer to exit

A la Thelma and Louise.