The Library Book

I scanned the shelves to pick a book
That seemed to be appealing,
From those adjacent to my shoes
To those up near the ceiling.

Selecting some that might work out,
I skimmed the first few pages,
For mostly I can tell by then
A story that engages.

A half an hour passed before
I found a prime contender,
The author someone in whose words
I’d happily surrender.

I checked it out and brought it home,
Some reading time in store
But soon enough it came to me –
I’d read this book before!

Toy Story

A British man, age 50,
Had a cough that wouldn’t quit.
An X-ray showed a mass and so
He thought that this was it.

When doctors stuck a probe inside,
The patient was in luck.
Instead of cancer in his lung,
A toy had gotten stuck.

It seems when he was 7,
Playing in his room, alone,
He’d swallowed, accidentally,
A tiny traffic cone.

Its orange shape had wedged there
43 long years ago,
But now the surgeon figured
It was time for it to go.

The gent recovered quickly
With his lungs all nice and clear
And he left without his cough
But with a treasured souvenir.

He Said, She Said

A can of worms has opened up
And so much slithered out
That every accusation now
Contains a seed of doubt.

A leer, a touch, a grope, a rape,
All met with a denial,
Including those kept secret for
Much longer than a while.

The lawyers pounce; the tabloids print
The sordid tales, supposing
That those in power had much more
Than egos for exposing.

And so we listen as each day
The accusations mount
Which soon enough will be much more
Than we can even count.

A Topic

“My kingdom for a topic!”
Said the poet to the pad.
Forgive me, William Shakespeare,
I was desperate (just a tad).

Most often, there are subjects
Lining up inside my head,
But once in every while
There’s just emptiness instead.

The obvious solution
(Which I’ve obviously chosen)
Is to write of my dilemma
(Which you’ve noticed, I’m supposin’).

Coming Up Short

Sadly, there's news that I have to report:
Sometimes your age has you coming up short.
You may plan a trip or an outing and then
Boom! It hits you - you're wandering out of your ken.

You may tempt the gods and proceed even though
A tiny voice whispers it's best not to go.
If sleepless nights happen you don't have a choice -
Admit your defeat and pay heed to that voice.

Then alter the plans you'd intended to keep
Just the tiniest bit to ensure you will sleep.
Admit that the years have been taking a toll;
Find an easier path and get ready to roll.

Hungry

At a meeting, someone said,
“I’m hungry. Who has food?”
Some offerings were made for which
He showed his gratitude:

A yummy looking sandwich,
Missing two or three small bites
And a little bag of pretzels,
Like those given out on flights.

He ate and felt much better,
Glad that we could help him out,
For that’s what having friends around
Is really all about.

The meeting over, I walked out
To catch an uptown train
And passed a stranger on the street
Who shouted out, in vain…

“I’m hungry. Who has food for me?”
He seemed about to cry;
But all the crowd that swirled around
Just kept on walking by.

Right Side Up

To children, something upside down
Is silly, a mistake.
To grown-ups it's more ominous 
(Unless we mean a cake).

For we expect things to appear
The way they ought to be,
So right side up provides us with
A certain symmetry.

When things go topsy-turvy
And the world seems upside down,
Then every smile will do the same 
And turn into a frown.