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Best Poems Written by Ilene Bauer

Below are the all-time best Ilene Bauer poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Life Is a Dance

Sometimes life is such a bore we run on automatic;
Then it’s time to tango for a dash of the dramatic.
Or when things are dull and only gusto will suffice,
We cha-cha or calypso to inject a dose of spice.

We hustle off to work each morning, foxtrot through the day
And hope that time’s electric slide just melts the hours away.
At clock-out time we say goodbye and jitterbug on out;
We hokey-pokey home because that’s what it’s all about.

Some easy days we waltz on by; we’re caught up in the swing
And lindy-hop or tap our way through all that life can bring.
We may go round in circles or, to deal with our despair,
Find someone we can partner with and do-so-do with flair.

For life is like a dance and we are held within its sway;
We dip and twirl and fake the steps, from polka to ballet.
The music of the atmosphere imbues us with its beat
And if we choose to hear it, we just follow with our feet.

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Share Not

When I go out to dinner,
I do not want to share.
I don’t care what is on your plate;
I don’t want to compare.

I scan the menu up and down
And then make my selection.
When it arrives, it’s meant for me
And not for your inspection.

“You want to taste my fish?” I’m asked.
Some people never learn;
For then the expectation is
To taste mine in return.

And so the answer’s always No!
Yet comments never cease.
“Your fries look really good!” They are,
So let me eat in peace!

Each morsel on my dish is mine
And I intend to finish.
Perhaps my attitude will make
Your thoughts of me diminish.

I’m sorry if that is the case – 
Dessert I’ll split just fine;
But when the meal’s delivered – 
You eat yours and I’ll eat mine!

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Daily Dose

If an apple a day
Keeps the doctor away,
Just think what a poem can do!
If can open your eyes
To a hidden surprise
Or remind you of something you knew.

Why, a poem can delight
Or assure you you’re right
When it jibes with what you might believe
Or tap into your youth
With a long-forgot truth
That you never thought you could retrieve.

Though it may lack the crunch
Of an apple you munch
Still, a poem may be good for your head
‘Cause I really do think
If that doctor’s a shrink,
He’d advise poems (not apples) instead!

(July 8, 2019)

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Tortoise

Come wrestle with a gator!
Said the poster at the fair.
With tape around its mouth, it looked
Pathetic in its lair.

Yet in a cage adjoining it,
A tortoise ambled 'round,
Its movements sure and steady,
One foot lifting off the ground.

With claws extended, it appeared
To glide on tippy toes;
Its ancient eyes gazed straight ahead,
A true reptilian pose.

The children leaned and stroked its shell.
It didn't seem to mind,
Although I'm sure it would have liked
A stroke from its own kind.

That tortoise kept on moving,
Though perhaps to help prepare
For a coming-soon encounter
With an unsuspecting hare!

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What We Leave Behind

I think of those I knew who’ve passed
And what they’ve left behind,
Impressions that remain engraved
In caverns of my mind.

Perhaps just an expression
Or some laughter we once shared
Or a reaching-out connection
Where our truest selves were bared.

I conjure up some habits
That endeared or else annoyed
Which, for reasons I don’t know,
Have yet to vanish in the void.

We write our wills, bequeathing
What we treasure to our kin,
But the best of us we leave behind
Is what resides within.

Details | Ilene Bauer Poem

Person, Woman, Man, Camera, Tv

Identify an elephant
And I will shout, “Hooray!”
For you’re so smart you could be
Leader of the U.S.A.

Another test to prove your worth?
Repeat this after me – 
Five words: they’re “Person, Woman, Man”
Then “Camera” and “T.V.”

It’s comforting to know we’re led
By one with an I.Q.
That helps him to distinguish
All the red states from the blue.

Well, I am just a Person,
Yes, a Woman, but, oh Man,
On Camera, for T.V., I’d say,
“I hope he gets the can!”

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Special Characters

Don’t use special characters!
In writing I was told,
Next to the title of my poem.
(The letters black and bold.)

“Poems Don’t Have to Rhyme,” is what
I chose to name my piece,
But with this title, what I wrote
The site would not release.

For only letters, numbers, dashes,
Commas are allowed;
Apostrophes and colons, too,
Are welcomed in that crowd.

I looked back at my heading
And I didn’t understand
Exactly how it merited
That tyrant-like command.

I had to change my title – 
It’s called “Poems” now on my list,
But someone messing with my words
Makes me feel awfully pissed.

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Roadmap

I look into the mirror
And feel sad at what I see – 
A wrinkled replica of
A more vibrant, younger me.

On certain days, it’s not so bad;
Perhaps the change is subtle?
But looking at a photo album,
There is the rebuttal.

For just a year or two ago,
I think I looked okay,
At least a whole lot better
Than how I appear today.

But hey – a face is like a map
That marks the paths we’ve chosen
And all the ruts and potholes, well,
They sure beat decomposin’!

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'twas the Night

‘Twas the night before Christmas and I didn’t care;
I had dozens of latkes I had to prepare.
The menorah was ready, with candles to light,
Waiting there by the window, a wonderful sight.

The presents were wrapped and I lined up the dreidels;
The soup was a’bubble, with floating knaidels.
The applesauce waited to chill in the fridge
In a Chanukah bowl. (Yes, I tasted a smidge.)

The cookies were baked like my grandmother taught,
(So much better than any that anyone bought)
Shaped like candles and dreidels and six-sided stars;
There were plenty to fill cookie platters and jars.

When I suddenly sensed there was something the matter.
I raced to the kitchen – the oil was a’splatter!
For while I was fixing the festive display,
I should have been frying (not quite my forte).

The first batch of latkes was burnt to a crisp
And smoke filled the kitchen (much more than a wisp),
But tying my apron for take number two,
I ditched all the burnt ones and knew what to do.

I lowered the flame and reheated some oil,
Plopping spoonfuls of batter I wouldn’t let spoil.
Then I conjured my childhood and Chanukahs past,
When I had no idea years would fly by so fast.

And I pictured my nana and grandma, as well
As my parents, my grandfathers and Aunt Sydelle
And my brothers and sister and cousins galore
And my uncles and aunts I’ve not mentioned before.

While my latkes were frying, so crispy and gold,
I remembered how Chanukah used to unfold,
When we played with our dreidels and gathered our gelt,
In our family’s embrace and the love we all felt.

So I cooked the new latkes with patience and care,
Knowing that with my kids and my grandkids I’d share
All the pent-up emotions I’ve hidden inside
With a platter of latkes, now perfectly fried.

And to all who will celebrate Chanukah time,
I do hope there’s a lesson for you in this rhyme – 
For the very-best feelings our childhoods instill,
Through traditions, our hearts and our bellies will fill.

										December 7, 2022

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When February Feels Like May

When February feels like May
And skies are blue instead of gray,
We flock outdoors, but do not know
Which way our clothing needs to go.

Winter jacket? Much too warm;
Lots of beads of sweat will form.
Sweater? Sweatshirt? Poncho? Fleece?
Doubts won’t let me leave in peace.

Short-sleeved shirt and if I do,
Does that mean I’ll get the flu?
Tights or socks or do I dare
Go out with feet and toesies bare?

I’m obsessing, I admit.
There are reasons, though, for it.
Temps today are just a tease
For tomorrow we will freeze.