MY MOTHER'S EYES

My mother had eyes
In back of her head
Her ears were antennae
It often was said.

Our house was a minefield
Kids running about
The place was in chaos
Mom needed her clout.

Four rowdy young boys
And me, the house queen,
Mom must have wondered
Was it nightmare or dream.

Her piercing brown eyes
And ears ever a-twitch
Led us to wonder
Was Mother a witch?

But, far from a witch
She was surely a saint,
Despite searing eyes,
Mothering's not for the faint.

by: Gigi

FASHIONISTA

Shopping, shopping,
Always shopping,
The quest for cool
Once kept me hopping.

Bloomie's, Saks,
And Neiman M.,
Meccas on Fifth,
Jeez, they were gems.

Gloves and garb,
Heels and hats,
The time it took
Just drove me bats.

But dressed to kill,
When date night came,
Some lad would whistle
"Wow! What a dame!"

Now if a chap says such a thing,
I'm mighty piqued
And up in arms,
But in the day, it sounded sweet.

'Bye, 'Bye, Gimbel's
I live in Jeans,
Fifth Ave chic,
Is a cast-off dream!

by: Gigi

TABLE MANNERS

When I was three
We got on a tanker and took to sea
Across the ocean blue to the USA
Ready to learn a new and easier way.

It wasn't long before I learned to table that thought
What is the matter with these people,
How many tables have they got?

Dining, kitchen, end, side, conference, chess, card,
Are coffee tables only for coffee?
So, if I want tea, am I not able?

Poker, pool and ping pong tables
That's only the P's
There are more gaming tables!

At school I learned to keep my hands
Folded on the table top
During earthquake drills, under the table I hop.

Water tables, mountain tables, Knights of the Round Table
We studied and explored
I'm not done yet, there is much, much more!

There were multiplication tables, the table of contents
And the Twelve Tables of Roman Law,
Amortization tables, drafting tables, and even a table for a saw.

I learned that Congress may table a motion
And there are chemical tables to create a potion.

To relieve stress, have fun and unwind
Listen to turntable music of any kind.

Now here comes the bride
With the groom at my side
First off to the buffet table
Then on to the banquet table we go

They turned the table on us
When the magician stole the show.
On to a cruise ; we were so delighted
When to the Captain's Table we were invited.

When we measure, we use a tablespoon
To ensure we're precise
And when we set the table
A tablecloth makes it oh so nice.

A computer allows us to create tables
Actors practice at table reads
Hobbyists often use crafting tables
To organize their many beads.

You get my point, I don't want to bore
But this is fun, so indulge me one more:
A table for one, a table for two
A table to infinity
O.K., your table is ready
Now here's the nitty-gritty...

This English language is confusing as hell
You must live here a long time to understand it well.

by: Sam, a spoof on her second language!
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT:
To my hubby, who asked me to create a table on the computer
Then, Lu-Ann,, for whom I created a table that would suit her!

TEMPERANCE

Again and shamefully
The spectacle of The Ugly American
Has raised its ignorant head,
It's bared its sharpened teeth,
And flicked its fork-ed tongue.

Wake up, America!
Honor tradition.
Stand up, Americans!
Embrace diversity.

Spurn the pit bull
with the shotgun and the lipstick,
Reject the goon,
whose great wealth spawns hideous hair,
Dismiss the obstructionist,
he of strong tea and weak tears.

Purge racism, chauvinism and xenophobia,
Let the rainbow of our veneers
And the sunshine of our values glow,
So we might at last, and at least,
Respect ourselves once more.

by: Gigi

DAY OF RECKONING

Under menacing skies threatening Armageddon,

sea creatures,

trapped in their submarine prison,

scatter in sheer terror,

as birds on the wing, panicked in the wild maelstrom,

fling their fragile bodies into the shadowy unknown.

Do we alpha humans,

who have failed so miserably

to show our delicate environment the tenderness

required for its sustenance and survival,

await similar extinction?

Will veiled waves of radiation

bring the world as we know it

to a grim and lethal standstill?

Or, perhaps, worse

will those toxic waves

visit on us horrors more deadly than death?

Into the hands of whatever higher power we trust

now is the time to commend our restive souls.

by: Gigi

In Honor of Others, Known and Unknown

The King agonized about speaking
with great frustration.
I speak two languages
with little hesitation.

It dawned on me that even a King
can live a life of fear and fraught.
I realized that ease of speech is another gift
to which I never gave much thought.

It became apparent to me
that others like the King
have such difficult lives and stories.
I started to feel filled with gratitude
that in my lifetime
I have had very few worries.

In the past, I had medical complications
and recurrences, with constant fear.
But how fortunate am I, to have remained healthy
for so many years.

With much ease I am writing this,
with my brain and hands in full cooperation.
For some, this simple act
may cause great frustration.

I often complain and or joke about the antics of my bad ear,
sharing the misinterpretations that abound.
But I can hear the ocean roaring, babies laughing,
and my friends' words of encouragement,
forever thankful for those amazing sounds.

I have a roof over my head,
food to eat and water galore.
If I run out, I can turn on the tap
or just go to the store.

I may need glasses, but my eyes can see.
And, unlike some, my legs still bend at the knee!

Without any thought, I breathe with ease
and my heart beats so naturally.
Many people must struggle,
Their bodies do not respond with such autonomy.

My friend is battling cancer and has no hair.
I look in the mirror, and mine is still there.

Every day I turn on the news
and I see people in distress.
I have at times gotten overwhelmed
just because my house was a mess!

Sans a terrible moment in time,
I have lived a life
where there were no bombers in the sky.
My parents, however, became instant orphans,
and probably spent a lifetime
wondering why.

I will work to change and remember
those in this world with grave limitations.
I would be extremely remiss
if not filled with gratitude and immense appreciation.

by: Sam

For Jimmy Valentine Mallon

A child born on Valentine's day
Is a special soul, of course,
And if that child's named Valentine
Watch out world, he's a force.

So, when I wed my Valentine
I knew right from the start
He'd be kind and gentle
And take good care of my heart.

NIGHT

The grip of midnight arrives
I turn off the light.
The drumbeat of the heart
And the restless legs
Begin the drama of the night.

Oh, happy thoughts come to me
Bring back memories of glorious days
Stave off the darkling thoughts
Let them not break the slumber bliss.

The struggle is fierce.
Forces collide...
I drift off to sleep.

The first ray of light creeps in,
Blinds drawn,
A wild and dewy garden greets me
The morning walk restores me.

The changing vegetation
The churning restless sea
The crisp cool air.

I am now at peace and happy.
May the gods grant me
Many more of these mornings.

by: Willy

RHYME AND RHYTHM

Some experts say poems must have rhyme
But some say merely rhythm
Still others say just let it flow.
There is a major schism.

So getting down to finer points
The most alluring part
And what delights us most of all
Are words that touch the heart.

by: Gigi

Requiem for Three Zebras

Across the glittery green
Of verdant meadows, rain-ripened,
Briny sea scents tang the crystal air
While basking seals bark into the morning hush
And clusters of wildflowers open sleepy eyes.
And on the lush and fertile hillocks
Wildlife laze and graze and roam
In peaceful harmony.

Harmony often evades our social order. Alas.
We, the assigned shepherds of all things earthly,
Too often and selfishly ravage our precious heritage.
And so it is that the deafening blast
From the weapon of an angry rancher
Forever robs us of the slash of black
and the gash of white
Three beautiful zebras who will wander no more
On the wind-swept bluffs of our majestic coast.

by: Gigi

UNDERSTANDING ALICE'S RABBIT

Monday is already here
Sorry, no poem I fear.
You see, I just got back
Then the rush to catch up
On this and that.

Next thing I know it's Monday,
A quarter to seven,
I need a poem to share
A bit of heaven.

What poem do I choose?
Oh, dear, I barely have time
To grab my shoes!

I'm out of time
Oh, look, this rhymes!
Well, then, never mind!

by: Sam

Some People Like Poetry

Some people -
that is not everybody
Not even the majority, but the minority.
Not counting the schools where one must,
And the poets themselves,
There will be perhaps two in a thousand.

Like -
but we also like chicken noodle soup,
we like compliments and the color blue,
we like our old scarves,
we like to have our own way,
we like to pet dogs.

Poetry -
but what is poetry?
More than one flimsy answer
has been given to that question.
And I don't know, and don't know, and I
cling to it as to a lifeline.

by: Wislawa Szymborska
submitted by: Willy

SLEEPLESS

Those long, dark nights when sleep comes not
In truth, I am content.
If tomorrow never dawns
There's no yesterday to lament.

CHRONICLES OF MY HEART

I love to stretch awake each morning, especially when the sun is streaming through my windowpane.
I love to remember my childhood, blessed by caring parents, grandparents, 4 brothers, 3 uncles, 5 aunts and 13 cousins.
I love the bar my parents set for living happily and harmoniously.
I love the innocent adolescent fun I had with "my crowd."
I love that "my crowd" plays together to this very day.
I love re-living the moment Jim and I pledged to love each other forever.
I love that we loved each other forever.
I love remembering the day each of our 4 children was born.
I love those children; they make me proud, happy and humble.
I love the 5 grandchildren my children and their mates have given me; they delight my heart.
I love to recall travels to wondrous destinations.
I love the heady places I've lived: legendary Philadelphia, vibrant Harrisburg, historic Washington, pretty Camarillo and idyllic Cambria.
I love my little blue bungalow on New Jersey's tranquil seashore.
I love my sprawling silver home on California's craggy coast.
I love the roar of the ocean, the wind in the pines, the magic of fog, the twinkle of stars.
I love flowers, hummingbirds, spindly-legged deer, Monarch butterflies.
I love my morning newspaper, a good novel, poetry.
I love words.
I love a flute of sparkling champagne.
I love a cuppa...that's Irish shorthand for "hot tea."
I love the precious friends I've made at each stop along my joyous journey.
I love to stretch awake each morning,
even when the sun isn't streaming through my windowpane,
because it's shining in my heart.

By: Gigi

ONE DAY

ONE DAY
I will not judge
Nor give heed to being judged.

ONE DAY
I will listen
And respond where I used to react.
With only love I will
Say what I mean
And mean what I say
Hopefully without an attack.

ONE DAY
I will view all experiences
Even those negative
As an opportunity to improve and learn
Thus turning it all into the positive.

ONE DAY
I will not worry
Not to say I won't care
I will have learned
That worry gets me absolutely nowhere.

ONE DAY
I will have learned
To take the spotlight off the rotten apple
Which is only in the minority
The focus will be on the orchard in its entirety
And the beautiful crop that lies ahead of me.

ONE DAY
No! DAY ONE.

by: SAM

HOME SWEET SEA ISLE


Rocking gently on white wicker
Worry-free on the porch of my pretty blue bungalow,
Facing north, toward Great Egg Harbor and Ocean City,
With the Atlantic's roar in my right ear
And Ludlum Bay's gentle lap in my left,
Memories of every sort course through me,
A swirling nor'easter or a roiling hurricane.

I recall days long past in this magical place by the sea
Weekends 100 miles from parents and professors
Deep bronze suntans, too soon to be regretted
Pillow fights in ratty rented rooms
Sandwiches buttered up for muscled-up lifeguards
Frankie Avalon yet undiscovered
Chubby Checker twisting
Lingo largely limited to "cool" "sharp" and "copacetic"
Our style the very best of Main Line preppy.

Today, reminding myself these are the good old days,
I smile, because my kinfolk, each and every one,
Have, over the weeks, dropped by
For a gin and tonic, a cold Schmidts, a warm Guinness,
Crabcakes. Cheesesteaks. Tastykakes.
Soft pretzels with mustard. Hoagies.
A dip in the sea and a sit on the sand
A stroll along the sun-baked boardwalk
A walk to the pub, where Irish music speaks to our roots.

Quirky, but endlessly endearing, I love
That the waitress calls me "hon"
And the maitre d' calls me "sweetheart"
In that unique, unlovely Philly accent
Kindled, according to local lore,
By the confluence of the Delaware and Schuylkill Rivers
I am definitely home
Where it still feels cool to be a hon and a sweetheart.

by: Gigi

DUTCH WATERS


In the lowlands
Where the fingered channels of ebony waters flow
Two sisters of Delft, wind-buffeted,
With braided flaxen hair,
Know where they want to go...
Over the stone and metal bridge to the canal wall.
They will sit and angle their toes
An inch or two from the water's edge,
Leaning forward, glimpsing their faces
In the quivering mirror of the turbid stream.

What demons, sea devils, unworldly creatures
Dwell in the dark and ominous labyrinth?
"Jump" snapped the older one,
"I dare you, I double dare you"
she persisted with a slight shove.

The younger sister, goaded by a dare
She could not ignore
With one deep breath, her heart pounding,
Slipped blissfully into the murky, foreboding water.

The bobbing head and soiled body soon emerged
With closed eyes and a bright smile
Conqueror of the canal, an idol to the darer
A terrified knuckle-biting sister.

On the march home thoughts of the canal
In wintertime covered with thick ice
Shiny and sleek,
Skaters with tassels, festive scarves and mittens
Gliding merrily above the glory she had won.

by: Willy

The Waters of Life

Life first stirs in the hush of amniotic waters...
Such tranquility sometimes simulated, rarely replicated.

Just the gentlest of dewdrops trickle on placid infancy
When time tiptoes by in wonder and delight.

Clouds gather capriciously through the growing years
Tumbling raindrops and dampening edgy enthusiasm,
But largely youth savors its sunny moments and its triumphs.

Only later do storms rumble as life takes fateful turns,
When the angst of finances, children, illness and death
Frequently drench and engulf tattering dreams.

But, often and mercifully, rainbors dapple waning years,
As an ocean of understanding overtakes the tides of unrest
In a final wash of insight and tolerance.

by: Gigi

Water

Water:
Its worth cannot be measured.

It gently and softly bathes a newborn
Teasingly plays with children
Frolicking through sprinklers.

Water caresses you into sleep
As you idly drift on a rubber raft.

It quenches your thirst
Bringing relief from the heat.

Water can relax and rejuvenate
Healing injuries and soothing pain
Making weak muscles once again strong
Solicitously contributing to good health.

Water:
Its wrath cannot be measured.

It can tantalize the young into its depths
In minutes a child can be gone forever.
Water can be relentless and cruel.

An unforeseen storm can take the lives of people at sea
Hurriedly crushing their vessel and robbing them of breath.

Water takes the lives of so many
A tsunami washes over the shore,
Angry waves enveloping all in it's path
Consuming life and destroying property.

Water:
Its worth cannot be measured.
Nor can its wrath.

by: Lu-Ann

WATER

Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink
There's a lot more to water than most people think.

Imagine a world devoid of our precious H20
All the wonderous flowers would sadly cease to grow.

Holy water no longer would anoint a newborn baby's head
Quite possibly pink champagne could be substituted instead.

Oh, how I would miss my morning shower as I begin each day
And my cup of hot coffee, too, would be missed along my way.

Forest fires and house fires would be a constant fear
People the world over would sense a disaster near.

Can you imagine the difficulties facing every culinary group
Having no water to add to their minestrone soup?

And what would Michael Phelps do for his Olympic event
Could he win a medal by running in the 500-yard spring?

So, there really is a lot of water and I think we should all
take care
Or we'll not have any water and the earth will forever be
bare.

by: Lu-Ann