Finding His People

Henry found his people

And they’re up there on the stage,

Where with the audience, they all

Can magically engage.

 

We’ve watched him since his day of birth

And marveled at his gifts,

Delighted at the many ways

He’d give our spirits lifts.

 

He’s had to travel many paths

In search of where he’d fit

And middle school has been the place

Where all the fires were lit.

 

We sat there in the audience

And, watching him perform,

We knew that what he put out there

Was way more than the norm.

 

How thrilled we were to witness

Our dear grandson strut his stuff.

His future’s filled with promise

But to start, this was enough.

Holding the Bag

If you own a dog, at some point you

Will be carrying a bag of poo,

At least if you’re considerate 

And follow laws regarding shit.

There are some, though, who flout the rules

And think that bagging crap’s for fools.

A joke said, aliens did land

And, struggling to understand,

Determined that the smarter race

Were not the humans, for their place

Was picking up whatever lot

Their masters left with every squat.

In any case, when doggies do

Their business, making number two,

Their owners might hold back a gag

But will be left to hold the bag,

Unless, of course, that they refuse 

And leave the mess for others’ shoes.

Too Hard

Technology’s too hard for me;

My brain won’t let it stick.

I can be taught a thousand times

But nothing seems to click.

 

I would have functioned better

Living many years ago

When everything I’d learned would be

The most I’d need to know.

 

Today, when I see upgrades

I begin to shake and sweat.

Do I download? Do I upload?

If you tell me, I’’ll forget.

 

On my iPhone or computer,

If a problem comes to me,

There’s no way for me to solve it;

Same applies to my TV.

 

Give me paper and a pencil

And I’ll have an easy time

Using what’s left of my brain cells

To set simple thoughts to rhyme.

Risk Avoidant

It’s easier to take a risk

When youth will thus allow

A bounce-back sensibility 

Which now I’d disavow.

For when you’re young, you never think

Of all that can go wrong.

You live your life and merrily

(Or not), you roll along.

Yet age gives your perspective

Quite an unexpected jolt.

It may be building slowly

Or strike like a lightning bolt.

No matter how, you’ll realize that

It isn’t paranoid

To assess a risk you’d once indulge 

But now you will avoid.

In life, there is no guarantee

For safety or for ease

And older folk have learned that risk

Can bring you to your knees.

Different Quiets

When it’s quiet in the city,

It’s a temporary hush,

A break from all the noises 

Of the normal urban rush.

The bustle is suspended 

For a holiday, perhaps,

Or the hour’s just so early,

From the hustle there’s a lapse.

When it’s quiet in the country,

That’s the way it’s gonna stay,

Though some birdsong or some scampers 

May accentuate the day.

Many love the peace and silence,

Where their stress they can suspend,

But I much prefer the city sounds,

Just waiting ‘round the bend.

Memorial Message

On the radio I heard

A statement that I found absurd.

It described today’s parade 

Where tributes are routinely made

To soldiers who have served and died, 

Who’ve earned our gratitude and pride.

“These troops fought hard so on this date

We all can meet and celebrate 

The freedom that they helped fulfill 

By eating burgers from the grill.”

I get that it’s symbolic, yet

No soldier would, I’d surely bet,

Risk life and limb or wounds to heal

So we could barbecue a meal.

That said, we all should take a pause

To think of all who fight because 

They do a job and know each breath

Could bring them grief or harm or death.

This holiday, each one who serves

Should get the honor he deserves.

Two Lifestyles

I saw a groundhog waddle out

From underneath the shed.

I guess that is the place he’s chosen

Where to lay his head.

I’m not too thrilled that he is there,

Though he won’t bother me.

When we are in the country,

That’s the way that things might be.

One year we had a mama fox

With kits who romped and played. 

As entertaining as they were,

Of them I was afraid.

Still, these are things I do not see

When in my New York space.

I’m glad there are two lifestyles

That I’m able to embrace.

The Not-So-Early Bird

I saw a robin catch a worm

Then put it down to watch it squirm.

This action was repeated ‘til

I guess he’d finally had his fill.

 

With worm held tight, he hopped away,

His breakfast snagged, to start his day.

Perhaps he was the early bird

To which the adage has referred.

 

Yet when I witnessed this, the sun

Was past the point when day’s begun

And I was even slightly late,

So “early’s” open to debate.

 

Though still, the bird and I both did

Our morning chore outside, amid

The quiet of the city streets,

With exercise and tasty treats.

Sometimes Words

Button up your metaphors;

Zipper up your lip.

Shoot from any place you want

Other than the hip.

 

Writing what you really feel

By some will seem a crime,

Especially when posted

Like your others, all in rhyme.

 

Don’t express conflicting views.

Follow the advice

Of staying on the sidelines

And avoid all thinning ice.

 

Sometimes words can make a point

That’s better left unsaid

And on occasion, poems are better

When they aren’t read.

Poetry Aloud

I read a poem to my quilting class,

Which happens over Zoom.

It got a warm reception, so

They liked it, I’d assume.

 

I wrote it several weeks ago;

The topic: sewing curves,

Which even to a practiced quilter

Oftentimes unnerves.

 

It’s satisfying seeing

A reaction to my writing,

Since mostly, just my husband’s thoughts

Are those I am inviting.

 

While written comments gratify,

Like a fellow poet’s note,

A responsive audience can make

My spirits rise and float.

 

My quilting skills are modest,

Though they have improved with time,

But the talent I’m the proudest of

Is setting thoughts to rhyme.

Welcome Home

The roads are jammed; the traffic crawls

And rain clouds fill the sky.

The cars are crammed and, on the walls,

Graffiti passes by.

 

The cabbie shrugs, “That’s how it goes”

As we head slowly home,

The morning’s hugs, you might suppose

The highlight of the poem.

 

Yet sunny skies and swaying palms

Don’t equal paradise,

So don’t surmise that lifestyle calms,

Though while you’re there it’s nice.

 

New York has faults and though it’s true

That life here can be hard,

You can’t just waltz through what you do;

It’s tough in that regard.

 

For where you live is in your bones –

The good parts and the not,

So you forgive what causes moans

And deal with what you’ve got.

Walking the Lap Lane

 I don’t like to swim

So a swimmer I’m not,

But I am in Florida 

And it is hot!

While visiting friends,

We sat by the pool,

The sun beating down 

Where I’d sweat like a fool.

But I learned a new way 

To cool off, doing laps

By walking in water -

You’ve tried it, perhaps?

It felt so refreshing

And it could be seen

As a part of a person’s

Aerobic routine.

And the cherry on top

Is I got to replace

My pale New York complexion

With pink on my face.

Taking a Trip

Leaving home to take a trip

Invites a lot of stress

For whether things go just as planned 

Is anybody’s guess.

Within your comfort zone you know

The rules and the routines,

The details all at your command

With few surprising scenes.

Yet out of bounds all bets are off 

And so much can go wrong,

As unfamiliar routes demand

The proof that you belong.

It’s easier, of course, to stay

At home, without a doubt,

But there are times a different land

Is worth the getting out.

A Plane

I flew on a plane -

It was regular size

And far from a luxury jet.

If I had to guess,

I’d say 400 million

Could buy quite a few, I would bet.

With no royals on board,

We were packed in the rows 

And content with our pretzels and drinks.

Every passenger paid,

No corruption or bribes,

Which for Air Force One everyone thinks.

All the world is aghast

As Qatar worms its way 

Into He-Not-Worth Naming’s elite 

And Americans sigh

At another display 

Of democracy’s hapless defeat.

The Mall

For all of my shopping years I can recall,

I’d love spending time at a popular mall.

I’d go by myself or with family or friends 

And stay a few hours or more - it depends.

The stores were so varied and though I’d keep track,

My favorites were always there, luring me back.

When I’d need a break to the food court I’d head -

There were fries there and ice cream, that’s quite enough said!

I no longer shop like I used to and so

A mall is a place where I no longer go.

Yet recently, just to kill time, there I was

With my husband and talk about absence of buzz -

The place was a ghost town - the shops weren’t closed,

Which is what, in all honestly, we had supposed,

But there were so few people I can’t comprehend

How those stores stay in business with no one to spend.

It made me feel sad that a part of my life 

Has been severed as if with a surgical knife

For an Amazon search cannot equal at all

To the times I spent browsing all day at the mall.

Hip Hop Moves

 On the stage, the pre-teen girls 

Displayed their hip hop moves, 

As sequins sparkled while the dancers

Got into their grooves.

Though just a dress rehearsal,

Make-up gleamed on lips and eyes

And you could spot the older selves 

Their bodies did disguise.

Yet even with suggestive thrusts,

Their innocence shone through.

Of grown-up sexuality,

These girls had not a clue.

And that was wonderful to see,

Especially because 

My grandchild was among those dancers

Waiting for applause.

Busy

Some days are busy, while others are not.

Still, you must deal with whatever you’ve got.

Even with planning, you never can tell

When life will get hectic, at least for a spell.

 

It’s great to exist between boredom and crazed,

But when that occurs, I am slightly amazed

For either the hours stretch out without end

Or I’m rushing, with poems rather hastily penned.

 

Somehow neither one lasts very long and I find

That the busy-ness isn’t a state that I mind

Since at least I’m engaging that part of my brain

That allows me to function, but lets me complain!

Just Think of It

I only ride the subway

To a doctor or a show.

When teaching, that was not the way

To work I used to go.

 

Today, though, in the morning rush

I had to take a train

And I expected all the usuals

That make the trip a pain –

 

Delays and crowds and people whom

You wouldn’t want to meet

And cars so packed that naturally,

You’d never get a seat.

 

Instead, there was a transit worker

In a neon vest

Who smiled and shouted, “Welcome, people!”

Like she was possessed.

 

She clapped her hands and greeted all

With such a joyous mien

That commuters sported grins

Where mostly scowls are likely seen.

 

Just think of it – one person can

Spread happiness around

With just an upbeat attitude,

A lesson quite profound.

Itch

I itch at night; at night I itch,

Although for pain, I would not switch.

My brain, I guess, contains a glitch

So I can’t sleep without a hitch.

 

On TV ads I saw a pitch

For medicine – can’t think of which –

But that idea I chose to ditch

So I’ll get by, but life’s a…..bunch of annoyances!

Picking Up Cues

Children pick up cues from all

The people that surround them,

Formulating ways to interact

With those around them.

 

As they grow, they learn how some

Behaviors will affect them

And also how their actions

Might cause people to reject them.

 

But on the other hand, they find

Some manners to embrace,

Expecting adulation, though

That might not be the case.

 

Our personalities evolve

From witnessing those cues

And learning which traits help us

And which others we should lose.

 

Yet sometimes we are clueless

Of the way we are perceived,

For early interactions

Weren’t trusted or believed.

 

To some, life is a struggle,

Trying way too hard to please,

While to those who are oblivious,

They never need appease.

Gilty!

One man’s opulence another

Might consider tacky,

Especially when catered to

By every spineless lackey.

 

Yet those who rake in riches

As their empire’s being built

Should, if empathy at all exists,

Feel just a little guilt.

 

So many struggle just to live

While barely getting by;

Still, we hear of millions being spent

By those who rule on high.

 

A little gilt can be too much

And for a would-be king,

A little guilt, at least, should come

From those who kiss his ring.

Another Unexpected Sight

I saw her from a distance

And I recognized the move,

But until I got much closer,

It was difficult to prove.

 

With her breasts exposed, her bra below,

The cup part in the back

Was fastened, then she slid it ‘round

With quite a practiced knack.

 

She covered up her boobs and then

A t-shirt found its way

As she slowly dressed right on the path

I walk on every day.

 

I passed her by and coming back,

I saw she’d shed her pants

And stood there in her underwear;

Nobody gave a glance.

 

Another unexpected sight

To keep me on my toes,

This woman’s story just another

No one really knows.

White Smoke

Perhaps the new pope

Can offer some hope

To those who are lost and in need,

But to ones who can’t cope,

At the end of their rope,

That improvement is not guaranteed. 

Though white smoke filled the sky

And no one can deny

The selection was balanced and fair,

Many skeptics will sigh

For the clergy on high

Can’t help everyone desperate for care.

To the faithful, this choice

Is a cause to rejoice

And we all, with respect, will take note,

But the world as of late

Is in such a sad state

It’s not likely to change with this vote.

Out of Joint

In case the mirror’s not enough,

Reminders of my age

May crop up just to let me know

I’m at a certain stage.

 

A lack of energy, perhaps,

Or slackening of skills,

More visits to the doctor

And a daily dose of pills…

 

A host of ailments never known

When in my younger years

And slowing down in varied ways

By giving into fears…

 

A memory I can’t quite grasp,

A stupid slip and fall,

An item on the must-do list

I simply can’t recall…

 

The knowledge of the ones I’ve lost

Who’ve passed or slipped away,

The hours sometimes hard to fill

When weather woes hold sway.

 

I really could go on and on

But think I’ve made my point.

This isn’t how I always feel;

Today I’m out of joint.

When the Sun Returns

When the sun returns

After days of cloud,

Then a celebration

Is allowed.

 

Take a nice long walk;

Stroll along the beach

Or wherever views

Are within your reach.

 

Find a blooming tree

Or a flower bed.

Focus on the day,

Not what lies ahead.

 

For when sunshine comes,

Even for a while,

It’s enough to cause

All the world to smile.

Shrugging Off

Some people can shrug off their failures

Or laugh at their feeble attempts,

While others, like me,

Find frustration to be

What an aptitude never exempts.

 

For when trying to learn a new skill set,

If I find myself really inept,

I get into a funk

With my confidence shrunk

And there’ve even been times I have wept.

 

Oh, I envy those shrugging-off people

Who poke fun at their silly mistakes,

Though it’s our DNA

Which has made us this way,

So I guess we should cut us some breaks.

Newark Airport

A friend of mine just called me

Since her flight has been delayed,

With Newark messing up the plans

So many folks have made.

 

I do not live in Jersey

So this airport isn’t mine,

But it isn’t far and all its problems

Somehow crossed the line.

 

Construction on the runways

Made United cancel flights

And controllers walking off the job

Brought danger to new heights.

 

Equipment failures add a new

Dimension to this scourge

And to worsen this fiasco,

There’s some rain about to surge.

 

My friend’s flight was rerouted

To an airport close to me

And I hope she gets to fly today,

But there’s no guarantee.

A Little Break

Intermission gives permission

For a little break

To use the loo or grab a brew

Or stretch, for muscles’ sake.

 

It helps to know, when at a show,

Just when that time will be

So you can wait to navigate

The line who need to pee.

 

But if you stream at home and deem

It time for you to pause,

You take control because the role

Of one-in-charge is yours.*

 

(pronounced “yaws” by New Yawkas)

Sightseeing at Home

My husband and I love to travel

And in cities we like to explore –

Museums and zoos

And places with views,

Plus gardens and markets galore.

 

We wander down street unfamiliar;

Try restaurants that we don’t know

And sometimes we chat

About where we’re all at

With some locals we’ll meet as we go.

 

Yet today, a few subway stops took us

To a cool park that we’d never seen

And I felt, I must say,

Just like we were away,

Getting out of our normal routine.

 

There are treasures so often forgotten

In the cities where we rest our heads

And we needn’t go far

To get to where they are

And still sleep in our own cozy beds!

PBS and NPR

Entertainment on TV

Or radio depends

On funding from the government

Or ads for private ends.

Both PBS and NPR,*

With Public in each name,

Provide such joy for tuners-in,

With years of much acclaim.

From children’s shows to orchestras 

To journalists with news,

The varied offerings present

A host of different views. 

Yet now an order has been signed -

I’ll let you guess by whom -

To end all public funding,

As these stations meet their doom.

To stop “woke propaganda”

By the “monsters” on the “left,”

This, instead, will damage children

And leave listeners bereft.

The only monster I can see

Is one who thinks he’s king

And every day I wonder 

What new horror he will bring.

*Public Broadcasting Service and

National Public Radio

It's May!

Today is May; it’s May today!

And will I like this day? I may

Or maybe not; too soon to tell.

I may, if things are going well.

 

For I should say, that’s if I may,

That if this day won’t go my way,

A Mayday! shout won’t save the day

Or possibly, it might or may.