Housework

My husband likes to vacuum
And he does it every day.
I’ve never really asked him why,
But I know what he’d say:

“If I don’t do it, who will?”
But he knows very well
There’d come a time when I’d be drawn
Under the vacuum’s spell.

But it would not be every day,
Perhaps just once a week;
For vacuuming does not provide
The soothing that I seek.

I do not like to clean at all
Unless I’m really bored;
And I’m aware my home won’t win
A housekeeping award.

But something in the vacuum’s roar
Or back and forth propulsion,
I guess is so appealing
It becomes like a compulsion.

You may assess the cluttered state
Of my abode with shrugs,
But never doubt the cleanliness
Of all the floors and rugs!

Pansies

Not every pansy has a face,
But check out those that do;
You will swear that all of them
Are looking right at you.

Unlike daffodils and mums,
Or tulips, daisies, roses,
Pansies aren’t friendly
In the way that one supposes.

Their tiny faces seem to be
Fixed in a constant sneer;
It’s quite surprising, ‘cause folks think
How docile they appear.

But look a little closer
And you’ll see in their expression,
A readiness to judge you
And a hint of true aggression.

A pansy seems to hide behind
Its velvet bursts of hue;
But don’t be tempted by the ‘smile’
You just might misconstrue.

Gather a bouquet for me
Of buds and blooms profound,
But when it comes to pansies –
I prefer them in the ground.

Enticing

A store sent me a coupon;
It really was enticing.
A lesser dollar value
Would still have been sufficing.

I went and paid a visit,
And ambled up each aisle;
Thinking of my coupon,
I couldn’t help but smile.

Like getting something gratis,
I felt I’d won a prize;
I didn’t understand why they
Just didn’t advertise.

Instead they mailed a freebie
And lured me to the store;
I guess they hoped that folks like me
Would purchase so much more.

But I spent close to what they gave;
I didn’t really splurge.
I stayed within the lines and let
My spendthrift ways submerge.

The store did lose its gamble
On me, one lone consumer,
But even now they probably think
I might be a late bloomer.

But they’d be wrong – I’ll spend enough
Whenever I am needy;
But dangle bait my way
And I’ll be cautious, never greedy.

I don’t know if I’m typical,
But merchants, pay attention:
If you think you’ll get rich this way,
That’s a misapprehension!

Breaking Routine

When you do something daily,
When you’re in a routine,
It becomes automatic;
You become a machine.

Be you gym rat or cook,
If you’re really committed,
You must stick to the plan
Though your teeth may be gritted.

You’re determined to follow
Every self-induced goal,
But sometimes life spirals
Beyond your control.

There may come an occasion
When you have to lose out
On a meal or the gym,
Even though you’re devout.

If, like me, you’re afflicted
With obsessive syndrome,
You hate missing your daily
Routine, like my poem.

I’ve been able to keep up
My once-a-day musing,
But know that I’ll miss it
One day – not my choosing.

So I’ll try to prepare
And I hope I’ll succeed;
Soon there might come a day
When my poem you won’t read.

Though my readers are few,
I believe you are there;
I write most for myself,
But I do think you care.

So if you check my blog
And there’s no poem in sight,
Know that I’m quite distraught
I had no chance to write.

Walking the Bridge

I’ve driven over the Brooklyn Bridge
Many a day, for years,
And each time I’d be struck by
How majestic it appears.

But walking it is different.
You can savor every stride,
And something unexpected
Sort of bubbles up inside.

It’s magical and special
And available to all;
Yet so many New Yorkers
Never heed its siren call.

The tourists make the journey;
All the guide books give it mention.
But locals pass it by and do not
Pay it much attention.

I recommend a saunter there
At dusk, with lights aglow;
And as you stroll, you, too, will be
A native in the know.

Blew It

Last night I had a chance to shine;
Instead, I really blew it.
I’d practiced time and time again
And hoped I’d breeze right through it.

I’d written all the words myself
And had them memorized,
So when I drew a blank on stage,
I really was surprised.

I’m not all that experienced
With this type of performing.
I should have improvised, but really
No ideas were swarming.

Instead, I helplessly sang out,
The piano player playing,
“My lyrics I’ve forgotten!”
All my nervousness displaying.

The audience applauded
Even though I came up short;
I really did appreciate
Their comforting support.

My colleagues tried to buoy me up
With praises, for my sake.
I knew that they were much relieved
It wasn’t their mistake.

But though their words were so sincere,
With real encouragement,
I was so mortified their kindness
Barely made a dent.

Yet still, I’ll hold my head up high –
I tried to give my all;
At least there was one positive –
The audience was small!

Save the Date

I got your card
To save the date:
A summer wedding –
I can’t wait!

I really didn’t
Need that card.
My calendar
Has that date starred.

I wouldn’t miss
Your big event;
I thought that that
Was evident.

But nowadays
Such a reminder,
Like a nudge,
But slightly kinder,

Is what folks do:
It’s saying, Please!
But life provides
No guarantees;

‘Cause even if
The date they know,
There will be people
Who won’t show.

That won’t be me –
That date is saved
And was, before
The card, engraved,

Was ever mailed
To my location.
I await
The invitation.