If Only

If only it would stop raining all the time 

If only the honey bees weren’t in peril 

If only I could hear better at the movies 

If only Clifton would get a First Watch (Panera) 

If only they raised the minimum wage to $16

If only more of my shirts had pockets

If only the county fair had more rabbits 

If only Facebook would stop spreading hatred 

If only my line dancing class met more often

If only they found a cure for Parkinson’s

If only the years wouldn’t speed by so quickly 

If only postage stamps still cost a dime 

If only our sheepdogs came back to life

If only they’d get rid of the Electoral College 

If only Cincinnati’s air were purer

If only I was better at small talk

If only my wife would like to go camping 

If only the trolley ran to Clifton 

If only a million species didn’t face extinction

If only Elizabeth, Bernie, and Joe were two decades younger 

If only our phone company could get rid of scam calls

If only our family weren’t all far away

If only Netanyahu favored a two-state solution

If only they’d bring back Patti Page 

If only the doctor would renew my Ambien prescription 

If only ice cream was good for you 

If only I walked 10,000 steps every day

If only our arts center could find a new home 

If only the Enquirer actually covered the news 

If only the Bengals would win the Super Bowl 

If only my brothers were still alive 

If only Sherrod Brown had run for president 

If only our sink would stop getting clogged

If only I understood more about Zen Buddhism

If only I could run as fast as when I was 13

If only I could speak to my parents one more time 

If only the Easter Bunny turned out to be real 

If only…

Plaints of the Letter Z

Probably I shouldn’t fret

A true honor, being one of only twenty-six

But hardly an honor to be stuck at the end

We Z’s get short shrift

Webster’s dictionary has 953 pages

The Z’s begin on page 952

Does this strike you as just?  Logical?  

So disheartening for the grade schoolers named Zimmerman

whose daily activities are arranged alphabetically

They are fed up with being Z’s (as they well should be)

Zimmerman is the most common Z-name

but it’s not among the most popular twenty

Not even the top fifty

In fact it is number 379

Zhang comes in second at 472

In ancient times this was not the case

Practically everyone in the Old Testament is named Z

Zacharias, Zebedee, Zephaniah, Zelophehad

Zair, Zareah, Zedekiah, Zeeb, Zion

Zuzims, Zorobabel, Zophar, Ziza,  

and 131 more of our clan

Calligraphers admire Z as the most elegant

Like a bolt of lightning

Or the zig-zag trail of a mountaineer

scaling the face of El Capitan

Z is sharper than S, more fulsome than J

Twice as dynamic as our staid cousin N

And Zzz is among the most melodious of sounds

The gentle breathing of a sleeping newborn

Or the hiss of a snake-mother guarding her snakelets

Just ask yourself this question

Where would we be without zinnias, zebras, zithers,

zephyrs, zoologists, the zodiac, Renee Zellweger

Were it not for zygotes, the human race would be extinct

These are matters crying out for public discussion

Please try not to be zany when you next meet a Z

Whaam! by Roy Lichtenstein: An Ekphrastic Poem

Skipper and I were four when they bombed Pearl Harbor 

Our childhoods unfolded in the midst of the war 

In the back yard we fought in French trenches 

Battled the Nazis, attacked the Japanese 

Stormed the mock beaches as invading Marines

But nothing was more exciting than the Air Force

B-29s delivering their pay loads

Fighters taking off from aircraft carriers

And here, a P-51 Mustang destroying a Nazi fighter

It’s hard to imagine such courage

High in the sky, mortal clashes with enemy pilots

Google supplied these sobering facts

Twenty-three thousand American aircraft

Were lost in combat in World War II

Seventy-five thousand airmen died 

We owe these heroes eternal gratitude 

"The Old Folks" by John Steuart Curry

At home in rural Kansas 

A hot Sunday in mid-July

Mother and Father, back from church

Relaxing in their rockers

Buddy, their dog, watches alertly over the yard

Shortly Mother will cook Swedish pancakes

with lingonberries for lunch

But first some quiet time

Despite her blurry eyes

Mother is nearly done knitting her scarf

Father just finished with the Sunday Gazette

He wonders why he bothers

The world, so torn with chaos

Ugly politics, violence at home and abroad

Each year they appreciate their farm more

Their own private sanctuary

A place of  abundance and serenity 

The children, of course, are grown adults

Off in the big city, far from the farm 

Still friendly, but with lives and families of their own

The couple rarely talk with one another

Everything’s been said so many times

Yet they enjoy a special closeness

A product of their fifty-two years

Life is good, not perfect

She takes medicine for her heart

His back pains keep him awake at night 

But they are always there for one another

Night and day

And will be until the very end 

Swinging

  

I love to swing

When my mother pushes me

I go so high you’d never believe

Like a seagull soaring over the ocean

Searching the blue waters far below

Sometimes I feel I am close to Heaven 

Up here so high in the clouds 

Looking at the people’s tiny houses

Sending angel prayers to the sleeping babes

I have no fear when I’m high in the sky

I know there’s a safety net of love

My mother is always there for me

To catch me if ever I slip 

Swinging high

Swinging low

Swinging high again

Swinging my way to the unknown

Senior Moments: A Rhyming Sestina

That TV remote is so slippery to find

I suspect that its rays might be curdling my brain

I search through the sofa, underneath, behind 

With all this commotion, I pray I’ll stay sane

My spouse says the doctor should X-ray my mind

But at my robust age I’ve no need to complain

My trip to the mall, this does lead me to complain

From home to Northgate, very simple to find 

I turned south, not north, I’m afraid that’s not sane

Just one more faux pas by my fuddled-up mind

CVS might stock herbs to jumpstart one’s brain 

Magic herbs could keep me from falling behind 

Losing stuff in the fridge, in the drawer or behind 

The milk disappears, I fret and complain 

The image of that bottle, so clear in my mind

My wife says it helps if I use my brain 

Lost milk, it takes her one second to find 

She hands it to me, harbors doubts that I’m sane 

PBS dramas, it helps to be sane 

I lose track of the story, I’m hopelessly behind 

Too challenging, it seems, for my ossified brain

The meaning of Poldark I struggle to find 

But despite my confusion I never complain 

Even losing the whole plot, I actually don’t mind

Jeopardy was designed as a boon to one’s mind

A memory refresher that keeps seniors sane 

I often know the answer but the words I can’t find

I shout at the screen, I twitch, I complain 

The contestants too quick so I fall far behind 

Please, Alex Trebek, help revive my dead brain 

“Be sure to bring your name tag,” I instructed my brain

But I wore my wife’s instead, a silly prank by my mind

My classmates giggled, no need to complain 

They’re used to my dithers, my lagging behind 

Labelling myself “Katja”, who would think that is sane

But to wear my own name, not that simple I find

Senior moments I find give me cause to complain

Dead gray cells in my brain mean I’m losing my mind 

Falling more and more behind in my quest to stay sane 

All Hallows Eve

On Halloween we shed our normal selves

We dress as ghosts or pirates, kings or queens

Then frolic with the demons and the elves

And fill our bags with colored jelly beans

But Halloween is more than fun and games

This is the night the dead return to life

The witches’ brew is bubbling on the flames

And Dracula is searching for a wife

The children ring the bell in search of treats

They’re clueless as to what awaits their fate

I fear that werewolves prowl the city streets

Perhaps a ghoul digests the flesh he ate

I think I’d just as soon stay home tonight     

This poem puts me in a state of fright