Misty

I carried my umbrella but
Despite what I’d supposed,
It wasn’t raining hard enough
And so I kept it closed.

Some people had theirs open
But the lion’s share did not;
My coat remained unblemished
From a raindrop’s polka dot.

My glasses, though, were speckled with
Those droplets made of mist,
A trivial annoyance you
Might think should be dismissed.

Yet still, if on a misty day,
Until the weather passes,
You might unfurl that bumbershoot*
If you are wearing glasses.

*umbrella 

Performing

It’s fun to perform,
Being up on a stage,
To see if the audience
You might engage.

To banter your dialogue,
Belt out your song
And hope that you’ve carried
The watchers along.

To soak up their smiles
And hear their applause
Affirms you’ve succeeded,
Despite a few flaws.

For just a short time,
All that limelight is yours.
Your spirits are dancing;
Your confidence soars.

You wrap up those feelings
Like some gorgeous gift,
To open and savor
When you need a lift.

Something New

People buying something new
Can’t wait to use or try it,
Starting with the minute their
Decision was to buy it.

If it’s clothes or jewelry,
They’ll wear it right away,
Just to reaffirm it’s worth
The price they had to pay.

I’m a little different, though,
My wackiness unmatched;
My purchases remain unworn,
Their price tags still attached.

They languish in their shopping bags,
Most likely quite confused –
Selected from the store, brought home,
But waiting to be used.

I can’t explain the reason why
I have the need to wait;
At times, I almost reach the point
When things are out of date.

But soon enough I’m ready –
It’s a feeling in my gut;
I’ll slip the item from its bag
And price tags will be cut.

You like my pocketbook? Me, too.
It’s nice you let me know.
It’s brand-new, even though I bought it
Fourteen months ago! 

Tantrum

A grown-up in a hissy fit
Is something to behold.
I’ve always thought that as we age,
Such outbursts are controlled.

But sometimes people pop the cork
And let their rage explode,
So others get to witness them
In full-blown tantrum mode.

I guess it’s true that we regress
And lots of marbles lose,
But what a sight when someone old
Acts terrible as twos!

An Ordinary Object

On my kitchen counter sits
A catch-all made of tin,
A place for scissors, pencils and
Whatever else fits in.

It’s yellow, green and orange
And supports a jaunty daisy;
A caterpillar on a leaf
Looks fat, content and lazy.

An ordinary object, yes?
To decorate and serve;
I’ve had it, though, for fifty years,
A long time to conserve.

My room was being painted in
The color of my choice;
And finally, for furnishings,
My mom gave me a voice.

I chose the bedspreads and the lamp
And knickknacks picturesque;
That flower with its pencil cup
Sat proudly on my desk.

I still remember how it felt
To mark my own domain.
Such pride in all those purchases;
To me, so far from plain.

That flower cup has followed me
Wherever I’ve called home
And now I’m giving it its due,
Within this simple poem.

Flat Tire

In my urban habitat,
On a bridge’s ramp,
Heard a noise like rat-a-tat,
Giving me a cramp.

Taxi driver passed my way,
Pointing to my wheel;
Couldn’t hear, with traffic’s fray,
What miles would soon reveal.

Soon I felt familiar thumps –
Oh no! My tire is flat!
Riding over highway bumps
Tempts rubber to go splat.

Slowly rolled to a garage
Where they made a switch.
Gratitude in me loomed large,
But isn’t life a bitch?

Just in case we think it’s not,
There’s plenty to remind us
That even days that hit the spot
Hide havoc, which will find us.

Could have been a whole lot worse
If fate did so conspire;
Still, my day became adverse
When I blew out my tire.

Veterans Day

Vets ate free at Applebee’s
To honor them this day,
A heartfelt offer bringing
Good publicity their way.

Lots of stores gave discounts, too,
To soldiers with I.D.
And many took advantage
Of this generosity.

Every town and city had
A veterans’ parade,
With marching bands and waving flags
Quite jauntily displayed.

It shouldn’t be one day a year
To venerate our vets,
Whose sacrifices often bring
Such heartache and regrets.

We really cannot comprehend
How much their service cost;
Survivors often pay the price
For those whose lives were lost.

Our veterans deserve respect;
The military’s tough.
A gratis meal or dollars off
Is great, but not enough.