A bicycle bell very clearly does say,
Melodiously, “Please get out of my way!”
It isn’t as jarring as honking we’d hear
From taxis or cars warning us to steer clear.
It doesn’t disturb like a grating alarm
And the decibel level won’t cause any harm.
Its sound isn’t shrill like a whistle that’s blown,
To summon a cab, which most doormen do own.
It’s so much preferred to a growl or a bark
Which a dog will employ as a threat or a hark!
But for humans, out walking, instead of a yell
When you’re blocked, just consider a bicycle bell.
The time of year to tip is here –
The doormen and the super,
The newspaper deliverers;
Unless you’re in a stupor…
You give some dough so they will know
That they’re appreciated
For cash is always welcome –
Booze or candy just seems dated.
My favorite quip about a tip:
A parking lot attendant
Who, maybe, was on Christmas tips
Especially dependent…
Received no gift so he was miffed
And left, for every owner,
A duplicate of his first card,
Encouraging each donor.
But this card said, in bold and red,
On top of “Season’s Greetings,”
“Second Notice!” which would not
Need any more repeatings.
The FedEx truck is parked outside,
The boxes being piled,
Awaiting transfer home to
The apartment-domiciled.
Each package hits the lobby first
Where doormen do the sorting,
Relying on the numbers that
The carton’s label’s sporting.
The dwellers get a notice that
Their order has arrived
So no one feels that he or she
From shopping’s been deprived.
Containment days of quarantine
May keep us all indoors
But FedEx helps to bring us
What we’re needing from the stores.
The curse, the lethargy,
conceived out of wedlock Dawn and Day,
the mother-in-law of the race of the Ogres,
the tub filled with toads, vipers and snakes,
the cohabitant who always stays out -
here's a partial list of the problems
that await the true princesses,
whereas a dreamless sleep is a soteriological ideal of any Buddhist.
Bent over the beautiful princess,
I feel a pang of mercy,
and, rising from my knees, get out of here -
by little Mopsey, the Princess's spaniel, which is lying on the bed,
by the hypothetical fire upon the hearth,
by the doormen in whose cups wine turned into mold long ago
and beyond,
through the wayless wood of existence,
which is not a problem for my ladylove anymore.
As Charles Perrault rightly stated:
“Thorns part before a royal blood only”.
1St Corinthians 13:13 Inspiration Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina Riddle
( as an after dinner wonder mint )
It's a park but there's no grass because everyone's slipping on appeal.
Everyone has cameras except the girl.
They're taking her picture.
Now they're taking the girl and leaving the picture.
Someone warns them the sun is freezing or the grass is coming back.
All the cameras disappear and everyone pulls out badges.
Everyone is arresting everyone else.
The judge says something to the girl.
She transcribes but mouthes to the penguins in the front row
that she doesn't believe him.
They don't listen being packed in ice.
As they thaw they like her less.
The two doormen remove the entrance doors and exit.
Through the exit enters a large film with all the badges taken as evidence.
All the pictures taken that day prove no one had film in their cameras.
The girl pretends to type but no one minds because her feet don't touch.
The cameras are fired to test the murder weapon.
The grass holds the judge in contempt.
His eyes film-over.
He appeals to the penguins but they freeze for a picture.
Driving in the city,
I'm used to many things -
Crazy cabbies, honking horns,
Pigeons spreading wings.
In attentive texters,
Speedy messengers on bikes,
Nannies pushing strollers filled
With bored or wailing tykes.
Buses not in service,
Doormen whistles blowing,
Drivers who have no idea
Which way they should be going.
But one thing I have never seen
Until my current trip
Is tumbleweed go tumbling by -
It really made me flip.
Like a bunch of dancing hay clumps,
All this tumbleweed bounced by.
As it somersaulted on
You couldn't miss it if you'd try.
It looked comical yet scary,
Almost alien to me,
Not at all like on the westerns
That I once watched on TV.
For a city gal, I'll tell you
This was special, that is true,
But I hope I never see it
Roll down Second Avenue!