Trapped

A man fell in the tiger’s cage
And he was truly trapped.
A gathered crowd, with cell phones out,
Was waiting, still and rapt.

The zoo attendants made quite sure
That onlookers stayed back
While doing very little
To prevent the cat’s attack.

For ten long minutes, that poor man
Observed the tiger’s glare.
He seemed to pray, but had to know
He’d not escape from there.

With one quick spring, the tiger lunged
And all that’s left to say
Is how ironic it can be
When prayer turns to prey.

Tired

There once was a poet so tired
She tried writing though quite uninspired.
            She rubbed eyes and she yawned
            ‘Til it finally dawned
On her – she lacked the spark she required.

Columbus

Columbus, ignoring advice,
Went out searching for Indian spice.
     His signals got crossed
     And soon he was lost
Which for us, turned out better than nice.

So this holiday everyone hails
One who, at his intended goal, fails;
     But because of his goof
     We're indebted - as proof,
All the stores have Columbus Day sales! 

Bio Poem

I can rhyme on a dime
And I must say that I’m
Pretty good when I put my mind to it.
I can’t cook but a book
Will entice me to look
And I’ll read if I have time to do it.

I’m a city gal, witty gal,
Not a self-pity gal,
Though I complain and I kvetch.
I’m Type-A, so my day
Doesn’t handle delay
And some frazzle’s not really a stretch.

I’m not young but I’ve clung
To the habits I’ve wrung
From my middle-class family youth.
Though I roam, when I’m home
And I’m writing a poem,
I am happiest – that is the truth.

Fancy

The movie theater’s fancy now;
Its leather seats recline
And there is more than popcorn offered
If you’d like to dine.

So we sat down, leaned back and thus
On footrests placed our feet,
Until somebody came along
And said, “You’re in my seat!”

For now you can reserve a spot
Like at a Broadway show.
I think for cinema, that’s not
The way it ought to go.

I liked the old style so much more –
You plopped down anyplace
As long as no one’s coat was there
To claim it as his space.

The floor was sticky, leg room tight
And if somebody tall
Was seated right in front of you,
You couldn’t see at all.

But now the chairs are lush and large
And naturally, not cheap;
Unless the movies’ really good,
I might just fall asleep!

Reading the Obituaries

Obituaries lay it out –
The dates of death and birth,
But we don’t have a clue about
That person’s life on earth.

What made him laugh, what caused her grief,
What talents they possessed;
What sport or song or book or film
That he or she liked best.

What memories were cherished
Or what got their juices flowing;
The dreams they had or motivating
Force that kept them going.

Each day I read of those who died –
A parent, husband, wife
And wonder how a few short lines
Can sum up someone’s life.

Becoming Obsolete

I’m becoming obsolete –
I still have AOL
And use a land line when I’m home
(It’s on the wall, as well).

I send most greeting cards with stamps
And wash my plates by hand.
I light my oven with a match,
Which some can’t understand.

I perk my coffee, read from books
(Not Kindles or its cousins)
And write my poems in pencil
(Which I sharpen by the dozens).

The world is changing much too fast
And life is passing by
But I’ll be obsolete for sure
Before I up and die.