Rhyming Poetry Challenge

A friend wished me
Happy Hanukkah
and joked that the reason
there are so few Hanukkah songs
is that nothing rhymes with "menorah."

She's right. But I couldn't resist the challenge.


Hanukkah means bupkas
A blip in the Torah.

If it weren't for Christmas
We might just ignorah.

So spin that dreidel
Light that menorah.

Eat latkas and chocolate
And dance the horah.

Rules for Snow

You are a snowflake, thinking of visiting my city.

Here are The Rules for Snow.

1. No significant snow before December 24.

2. Light flaking that melts on contact is permissible.

3. Snow may fall from December 24 to December 26 only. This is your big opportunity. Have at it.

4. All snow must melt by December 27.

5. For the new year, see Rule #1.

Recipe for Octo-BOO!

Combine a little leaf magic

one magic leaf dog

and a little spooky stuff

Signs of the Times

Happy Equinox!

A nearby synagogue often catches my eye


with its witty billboards.




Back in January 2015 the sign read

Je Suis Charlie

Ani Charlie

During our rainy July it read

I'll change the sign

as soon as it

stops raining

Now just before Jewish New Year it reads

Rosh Hoshana will start soon.

What will you have to SHOFAR it?

Now that's effective advertising!


***






Stevie Wonder sings in "As"

 "the seasons know exactly when to change."




The temperatures may still be summery (not that I'm complaining)


but this tree is showing its true colours


exactly on schedule.

Is it the flu or a cold?

That's what I've been pondering for the last few days. I think I've decided it's a cold.

Here's a comparative list of symptoms:


https://www.cdc.gov/flu/symptoms/coldflu.htm


Whatever it is, I'm keeping my distance from M. One sick person at a time per household:  that's the rule!

Mystery Man

I wrote a version of this villanelle in 1999, and revised it in 2009.

It seems right to repost it, in anticipation of July 20, 2019, the 50th anniversary.

Mystery Man

 

 

One small step can seem like almost nothing,

a quarter million miles for three to fly,

as we held our breaths to watch that first landing.

 

Four billion hopes--a planet's wondering

reflected in the mirror in the sky--

is one small step away from almost nothing.

 

Buzz followed you, while Mike was orbiting.

How could your tiny step not make us cry

as we breathlessly watched that first landing?

 

The media frenzy you found stifling,

a leap to fame that you would soon decry.

One small step can seem like almost nothing.

 

Who is this man? The press is suffocating.

Cocooned within your silence you just sigh,

and hope news will eclipse the first landing.

 

Mystery Man, no moon songs do you sing.

Can astronauts be brave, but also shy?

One small step that changes everything

at once. We exhale, hope for safe landing.

 

 

 

 

From ANTIQUE PIANO & OTHER NOTES, Deco Owl Press.

Copyright  2014 by Barbara Etlin, all rights reserved.

 

 

 



Fog, a new haiku

Fog

steady white smoke puffs
now you see it, now you don't--
Golden Gate magic

Copyright 2019, Barbara Etlin, all rights reserved