Exercising Your Brain

People do aerobics
So their bodies stay in shape.
Slacking off means all that flab
Reverses its escape.

Just like muscles turn to mush
If workout time’s ignored,
Lethargy may leach the brain
Of knowledge it has stored.

Therefore one must exercise
The mappings of the mind,
Making sure the avenues
Are smooth and well-defined.

Crosswords and Sudoku,
Scrabble, dominoes or chess
Help to keep those brain cells sharp
And also combat stress.

As we age we must work out
The body and the brain,
For if we don’t, the things we’ve learned
Will all have been in vain.

Senior-Friendly

The supermarket calls itself
A “Senior-Friendly” store.
I read the sign and now I wonder
What it’s really for.

Do other shops mistreat the old?
Get nasty if they’re slow?
And how, in this establishment,
Does senior-friendship show?

Perhaps employees push the carts
Of those who look “of age,”
Though senior status often’s not
An easy thing to gauge.

Or maybe certain items sit
On all the lower shelves,
So prunes and other “senior” foods
The old can reach themselves.

I might just stop inside to check
This “Senior-Friendly” place,
But if they’re extra-nice, I’ll wipe
Their smiles right off their face!

A Complex Thing

Today’s the day for big bouquets
And hugs or other warm displays
To reassure each mother hen
She’d choose to do it all again.

For motherhood’s a complex thing –
Though joy and pleasure it can bring,
When all her fledglings leave the nest,
An ache may surface in her chest.

She’ll reminisce and be amazed
How quickly all her kids were raised.
With luck, there’ll be a sturdy bond
To keep them linked for years beyond.

And so this day, they come or call –
A simple message says it all:
On Mothers’ Day, we won’t forget
You gave us love; we’re in your debt.

Strikeout

In baseball, when you get a strike
Three times, it means you’re out.
Unless you’re pitching, getting strikes
Is not what it’s about.

In bowling, though, a strike is great;
It’s what you’re hoping for.
The more times that you get a strike,
The higher is your score.

The same holds true in life, for words
Can have quite different slants
And one’s interpretation
May be ruled by circumstance.

So when you are confronted
With a word you may not like,
Choose bowling over baseball
And pretend that it’s a strike!

Vanilla Malted

A treat that should be most exalted
Is a real vanilla malted.
Made with ice cream, milk and malt,
It’s oft forgotten, by default.

It must be mixed by a machine
Endemic to the diner scene
And served inside its silver mixer
Meant for holding this elixir.

Pour it in a Coke-shaped glass.
Use a straw (now, don’t be crass!)
Take a sip and be transported
To your childhood days, distorted…

For when seen through such a taste,
Negatives all get erased;
And once you start to reminisce,
You’ll just remember days of bliss.

Today I passed a luncheonette;
It’s been there eighty years, I’ll bet.
I thought of malteds, got the urge –
For $7.50 (!), I could splurge.

Happily, I did indulge
And that is why I here divulge
It’s worth those calories amassed
For that connection to the past!

Bloated

New Jersey has a governor
Who wants to rule the land,
But people have a problem
Seeing Christie in command.

It’s not his personality
(Though he thinks he’s all that!)
Or brains or drive or vigor –
It’s the fact that he is fat!

He isn’t slightly overweight
But closer to obese.
His stomach, in his pants, looks like
It’s praying for release.

So recently it was revealed
Some surgery was done,
To hasten weight loss so his image
Voters will not shun.

For presidents today are fit
So when they’re photographed,
They look more like Obama
Than like William Howard Taft.

I’m really not a Christie fan,
(He’d never get my vote)
But he’d look more presidential
If he’d banish all that bloat!

Appalachian Man

South Carolinians, give me a break!
If you were my students, you’d fail.
You’ve given your nod to the lout who once hiked
On the fake “Appalachian Trail.”

A governor gone to a place no one knew
With his staffers in fear for his life,
Had to later admit that his hike was a lie
To help hide his “true love” from his wife.

Though that dastardly deed left some angry and hurt,
His constituents seemed to excuse him;
And for Congress, enough of those voters came back –
Fifty-five percent opted to choose him.

Yes, other politicos lied and had sex
(With a president leaving a stain!),
Yet those voters for Sanford had better beware
For this guy’s surely pulling your chain!