No Robert Frost

I know that I’m no Robert Frost;

I never claimed to be ‘im,

Yet that is not the reason why

I write a poem per diem.

The writing lets me tap inside

And reach my inner being,

Which, from the outside, no one’s really 

Capable of seeing.

It’s gratifying when I get

Some feedback on my rhyming,

Yet that’s not what I need to get

My self-assurance climbing.

It’s when I read back what I wrote

That fills me up with pleasure,

Though I might be the only one

Who sees it as a treasure.

Second Opinion

A second opinion may clarify things

Or possibly cause some confusion,

For doctors who do not agree will, no doubt,

Arrive at a different conclusion.

 

A patient must therefore decide who to trust

And to follow that recommendation,

Though when two so-called “experts” have differing views,

It makes sense to feel some hesitation.

 

It’s better, I guess, to have choices to make

And some down time before a decision,

For it helps to feel good with the doctor you choose

Way before you’re prepped for an incision.

Bagel Day

Hooray! Hooray! It’s Bagel Day!

Or so I’ve heard it said,

So substitute a bagel

For some ordinary bread.

 

Since many so-called “bagels”

Don’t have what it really takes

To be authentic, you may find

You’ve scarfed down lots of fakes.

 

Do not be fooled by circled dough

Around a center hole.

They must be dense and chewy

Like New York ones – that’s the goal.

 

Now other places have their fans,

(Hats off to Montreal!)

But some who serve a puffed-up version

Have a lot of gall.

 

To me, some seeds are needed -
Poppy, sesame and, too,

In pumpernickel, caraway,

And more than just a few.

 

A bagel’s a delicious treat

So eat it your own way,

But I need no reminding,

For I eat one every day!

Ring Tones

When choosing a ring tone,

Make sure it won’t grate

On your nerves or turn into

A sound that you hate.

 

They vary from gentle

To jarring or shrill,

While doing the job

They’re designed to fulfill.

 

We snap to attention

When hearing our phone,

So its ring should be one

We accept as our own.

Our Two Cents

On my mothers’ group Zoom,

Six of us in the “room,”

We remember what we used to do

When our babies would cry

Or, asleep, how they’d lie

And what helped us, back then, to get through.

 

What made us reminisce

Was, with grandkids now, this –

Things are not done the same way today

And our children, all grown,

With some kids of their own,

Think that they know the only right way.

 

It’s amazing, as well

As annoying as hell

To be criticized rather than praised

When we add our two cents

And our kids take offense,

Since it wasn’t by wolves they were raised.*

 

In the future, I hope,

That our children can cope

With the new rules their own kids will set

And they’ll protest that, no,

That’s not how things should go!

As for us? Oh, they’ll quickly forget.

 

*Thank you, Harriet, for that line…

A Variety of Hats

Throughout the years, my kids had

A variety of hats,

Along with all the books and dolls

And games and baseball bats.

 

A few were parts of costumes

Or vacation souvenirs,

While others served as props

For princesses or buccaneers.

 

Though most have long been cast away,

Some managed to hang on –

The pirate and top hats are here;

The cowboy hats are gone.

 

Yet still, I felt a little pang

When throwing out the trash

And there, with all the magazines

Was something from the stash.

 

A plastic Viking headpiece

With, on either side, a horn.

I have a photo of my son

From when that hat was worn.

 

It served its purpose and is now

Bashed up and way too small.

Though I felt sad to throw it out,

My son won’t care at all.

A Booth

To tell the truth, I love a booth

When eating in a diner.

You can’t dismiss such coziness

As something you’d call minor.

 

For it is clear that atmosphere

Adds much to meal-time pleasure

And booth-type seats improve your eats,

At least the way I’d measure.

 

Be careful, though, for in your row

If someone leaves the table,

You’ll have to rise and leave your fries,

Their exit to enable.

 

Still, such a nit does not one bit

Make booths lose their attraction.

Their cool appeal grants any meal

A certain satisfaction.

Never Really Knowing

Depending on the place you live,

The weather’s warm or cold.

Perhaps that’s why you moved there;

It’s the picture you’ve been sold.

But Mother Nature’s in control

And likes to mess around,

So conditions you’d expected

Might not be what you have found.

In the south they’re wearing sweaters

And the west is fighting fires,

Maybe changing someone’s mind of

Where to go when one retires.

Meanwhile, I adjust my wardrobe,

Wearing layers I can shed,

Never really knowing what will be

In days that lie ahead.

Funeral Conversation

At Jimmy Carter’s funeral

A senator exclaimed

He saw Obama “kiss the ring”

Of He-Who-Can’t-Be-Named.

 

I watched the clips and verified

The two of them conversed.

It was a bit surprising, but

It didn’t seem coerced.

 

Most others kept their distance,

Which is what I would have done,

For I’m sure I couldn’t cozy up

To someone I would shun.

 

Yet perhaps it’s just diplomacy

That people should expect,

But it’s hard for most to share a laugh

With one they don’t respect.

Sans Stilettos

Nancy took a tumble

And went falling down the stairs.

The slickness of the marble

Must have caught her unawares.

 

Yet who at 84 years old

Wears shoes with 4-inch heels?

Though since a hip replacement,

There’s a photo that reveals

 

That Pelosi, back at work,

Left her stilettos in the dust.

She’s sporting clogs, a look to which

She might have to adjust.

 

We all make compromises

As we ratchet up the years,

Though despite her new flat shoes,

She still will tower o’er her peers.

Possible Side Effects

The doc prescribed a medicine

To make my bones grow strong.

It seems they’ve lost some density

As life has rolled along.

 

I’ve had the pills for quite a while

But haven’t taken one,

For I’m afraid soon after,

Side effects will have begun.

 

I read what all the experts say

From clinics quite well-known –

The Mayo and the Cleveland,

Which report what tests have shown.

 

I’d be better off without the facts

These places have prepared,

For learning what can happen

Only makes me much more scared.

 

I’ll try some yoga and will boost

My calcium to still

Any qualms about my bones –

That seems much better than a pill.

Rising to the Challenge

My plant by the window is drooping;

Don’t know if it’s thirsty or cold.

In the mirror, my body is stooping,

More obvious as I grow old.

 

The radio needed replacing;

The static was driving us nuts.

The search for a couch I am facing

Needs testing with hips, backs and butts.

 

The snow that just fell was a dusting;

The weathermen got this one right.

To the new year I’m slowly adjusting,

To survive our political plight.

 

If we challenge ourselves with some rhyming

In an ABAB type of verse,

Then from out of despair we’ll start climbing;

For uplifting, you can do much worse.

Riding a Camel

A friend went to Morocco

And she rode a camel there.

I saw the photos and I wondered

If I’d take that dare.

 

Another pal’s in Egypt

And, on pictures she did post,

There she is atop a camel,

Looking happy and engrossed.

 

As a child I rode a camel

When I visited the zoo,

Where it walked around a circle

As it somehow learned to do.

 

Yet, to ride one in the desert,

Decades later, feeling old,

I’m not certain I could muster

What it takes to be so bold.

 

I am planning a vacation,

But the place I hope to go

Has no camels and no deserts,

So I guess I’ll never know.

Venus and the Moon

A crescent moon was visible

Last night from in our car

And close to it was Venus,

Shining like the brightest star.

 

It really was a special treat

To look up in the sky

And gaze upon such beauty,

Needing just the naked eye.

 

I’m such a sucker for the moon

So it was a delight

To be greeted by its presence

On a crisp and wintry night.

Ebb and Flow (II)

Every morning when we wake,

There’s no way for us to know

Which direction we will take

Or how the day will ebb and flow.

Maybe someone’s feeling sick

Or possibly, the car won’t start.

Stressors wait - just make your pick,

For they can tear your world apart.

Or you’ll get the greatest news

And there’ll be smiles and shouts and hugs.

Sadly, we don’t get to choose

Among the highs and lows and shrugs.

Yet we deal with what we get

And somehow, through it all, we cope

Because our fortune’s never set

And for tomorrow - there is hope.

No Clue

Younger people have no clue

That many things they like to do

Will, one day, prove to be too much,

By slipping from an aging clutch.

 

The rah-rah-rah and go-go-go

Of constant moving starts to slow.

The parties lasting through the night

No longer whet your appetite.

 

The dinners that begin at 8,

With drinks you’d once appreciate,

Give way to early-bird-type meals

With much less food, which now appeals.

 

The traveling to cool locales

To ski or hike with groups of pals

May be the trip you once would choose,

But now, you’d pick a river cruise.

 

You never think when you are young

That you would ever be among

The people who have reached the age

Where life is at a different stage.

On New Year's Day

Schools and many stores are closed;

Banks and barbers, too.

If you need to buy some stamps,

There’s nothing you can do.

 

Docs and dentists do not work;

The Market has no trades

And you may find a door that’s locked

At pool halls or arcades.

 

It’s a day for chilling out,

Relaxing in your home –

The perfect time to make some calls

Or read or write a poem.

 

For New Year’s Day’s the last hurrah

Before we’re back in gear.

The holiday is over, as

Tomorrow will make clear.