Kids today, I have to say,
Are latched onto their screens
And spend more time than I on rhyme,
No matter what their means.
My grandkid’s friend, at school day’s end,
Came over for a while.
They ate and talked but mostly gawked
At sites that did beguile.
The sunny day lured them to play
Out in the grassy yard
‘Til boredom hit, so in a bit,
They played the hungry card.
A little snack, but then a lack
Of things to do set in.
Some board games? No! With spirits low,
The kvetching could begin.
Until my son got the job done,
Producing what he knew
Could save the day, some brand-new clay -
Wow, something cool to do!
Ideas took hold, they squished and rolled,
Creating works of art,
With smiles of pride that couldn’t hide
What screens cannot impart.
I waited for the crosstown bus
Forever and a day.
That may be an exaggeration,
But it felt that way.
At least three dozen people
Were bemoaning what became
The perfect opportunity
To find someone to blame.
To make things worse, a bus was parked
Right near where we’d hop on,
Although the driver, maybe
On a break, was just plain gone.
At last a new bus showed and so,
All three doors had a crowd.
The driver opened none of them,
The grumbles getting loud.
When finally, he made a move,
The front door opened wide
And access to the other two
Was out and out denied.
More kvetching, but we inched our way
And finally could board.
I snagged a seat (not many left),
Which felt like a reward.
At least it wasn’t freezing and
I wasn’t running late,
Yet surely, it’s a well-known fact
That no one likes to wait.
If all your basic needs are met,
Your bills are paid, no cause to fret,
Whatever food you want, you’ll get –
It’s then you can be kvetching.
For if you have no place to sleep
And hunger makes you want to weep,
The only thoughts your mind can keep
Might deal with budget stretching.
It takes some chutzpah to complain
When others’ lives are filled with pain,
Yet human nature can’t refrain
From some entitled retching.
If life did not have glitches,
Then of what would we complain?
There’d be endless founts of riches
And no one would be in pain.
All our nervous tics and twitches,
Since they all would be in vain,
Would just vanish, as would itches
And from kvetching we’d refrain.
Though this fantasy bewitches,
In our lives it’s very plain,
We must cope with all the pitches
Hurled, which no one can explain.
Some hours race by at breakneck speed,
So fast they’re almost blurry,
As if, like fire trucks on call,
They’re in the biggest hurry.
While other hours move like snails
Or just like taffy, stretching,
Until we’re forced to check the clock
To try to keep from kvetching.*
Still, time is not in our control.
We lack the needed powers
To change the pace as minutes
Dash or crawl and turn to hours.
*complaining
QUOTE FROM ALAN WATTS~~~ZEN MASTER.
“LIFE IS THE WAY IT IS; AND LIFE IS THE WAY, IT ISN’T.”
Are we not wanting things to be otherwise?
As we dialogue in poetic disguise?
It’s impossible to stop complaining!
To be happy in the rain takes training!
To move on and grow,you must be and let go.
And stop kvetching, your are in the wrong show!
You can create and incredible life.
Even when your days are filled with strife.
Then you can bloom like God’s flower.
And live in total joy, in any hour!
10/2/2022
Tribute to Alan Watts… thank you for affecting my life.
When Jesus burst on the fish scene,
Peter saw his net skills were quite keen.
"I don’t mean to be kvetching,
but as long as you’re catching,
can you make them both headless and clean?"
----------
Of course on his first encounter with Jesus, Peter had this to say:
“Go Away from Me, Lord, for I Am A Sinful Man!” (Luke 5:8)
Our park is a place of unnatural wonders
A shirtless man wearing low-riding jeans
Two women buxom and bold, stalking,
While an older gentleman homeless, I suspect
Stakes a claim on a rickety old bench.
Teenagers are playing flag football nearby
A tiny tot looks around lost and starts to whimper
When his mama spots him and yells angrily.
Numerous squirrels are chasing their tails.
Four teenage girls are loudly kvetching, while
A young man wearing a designer mask
Seems properly afraid of catching the virus
And I observe all, while trying to write a poem.
HONORABLE MENTION
written October 2, 2021
[in Central Park, Ashland, KY]
"Write What Inspires" Poetry Contest
All Poetry
October 8, 2021
Everyone has aches and pains
When getting older; who complains
Depends, at times, on who refrains
From doing all the kvetching.*
For any sympathy one gains
May dwindle if attention wanes
With every detail one explains,
The story always stretching.
Each bemoaning thus unchains
Annoyance as one’s patience drains
Although what hopefully remains
Is empathy worth fetching.
*Yiddish word for complaining
Getting together with girlfriends entails,
Aside from the obvious – eating!
Discussions of life and the various ways
We fill time up that seems to be fleeting.
Of course, we compare all our upcoming trips
For our journeys are different and take us
Within the U.S. or across the big pond
Where no ship, car or plane would forsake us.
We cannot resist as we show off the kids,
For each one of our grands is amazing
And it’s lovely to share pics and videos as
We soak up the delight and the praising.
But the topic that overtakes most of our time
Is our health and the way it’s declining –
The aches and the pains and the doctors and tests;
We commiserate, kvetching** and whining.
As the years ratchet up, that’s the way that it goes,
There is sunshine but also much raining
So we laugh and we smile at how lucky we are
Though, of course, we leave room for complaining!
*tsuris - troubles or woes; aggravation
**complaining
In the soon to be future
they built an A.T.V.
and sent it to Ganymede.
It was ordered to go
here and there,
to dig and scan - it obeyed.
Time passed,
samples were sent back
for analysis.
Eventually NASA diminished,
there were staff depletions.
SpaceX had other projects.
The unit sensed
that it had been abandoned…
needing a purpose, it communicated
with aliens,
kvetching, and disaffected interlopers
hell bent on the annihilation
of Earth.
The moon-buggy (for Ganymede is a moon),
watched as planet earth
went poof,
dispersing like dandelion seeds
on a solar wind.
If the space-cart could have shrugged,
it would have.
The Alcoholic in Your Life
Might be the dirty man in the gutter,
Or your mate, so loaded he can only stutter.
She might be the loudmouth at the bar,
Or the woman who almost died,wrecking her car.
Sadly, could be your father or mother.
Cousin, aunt, sister or beloved brother.
Ages of addicts are no longer fifty.
Some eleven year olds, sneak drink at home, they think it's nifty.
Alcoholism begins in denial, first by the drinker,
Then, the fellow deniers: friends and family, too.
Unable to see where this might have a fatal end.
Our society so worked up over fentanyl and shrooms,
We scoff at them throwing the drug, alcohol, up in our bathrooms.
We've yet to understand all alcohol is a dangerous drug,
I know, not you~you really are not addicted.
Many die of this disease each day, deadly conflicted.
Call yourself blessed, if this disease you do not have.
Please do not laugh at these unfortunate blokes.
See that they get the help they need~
Stop kvetching over second hand smoke.
Alcoholics come in all shapes and sizes.
Attorneys, doctors, Hollywood, too.
Love needed urgently, not arrogant and unforgiving surmises!
Panagiota Romios
4/3/2019
Wasn't I the lucky one
To find that I was seated
Next to mom and 6 month baby,
So to this I thus was treated:
Lots of crying, lots of kvetching,
Lots of wiggling around,
All while trapped inside an airplane
Miles and miles above the ground.
With no books or toys or teddys
To amuse or hold attention,
Mom tapped fingers on the window;
Oh, and I forgot to mention...
That she changed the baby's diaper
On the fold-down eating tray.
But at last, the mini-screen
And cartoon channel saved the day.
Though the mom sure had her hands full,
For 2 hours plus, oh, gee,
Still I hope when I return they won't
Be sitting next to me!
There’s nobody except a saint
Who never utters a complaint
Though there are those who seem to thrive
On kvetching to keep them alive.
“The chair’s too low, the waiter’s rude
And do not ask about the food!
The light’s too dim, the doctor’s mean;
The bathroom’s never really clean…”
The list is endless for, of course,
Complaints can come from any source;
But sometimes I’d just like to hide
From people never satisfied.
They’d hang their heads in true defeat,
Their day not really quite complete,
If fault could not be quickly found
That they could broadcast all around.
The rest of us must bear the brunt
Of every moan or tsk or grunt;
But look at me – I’m not abstaining –
Carping ‘bout the ones complaining!
When doing laundry in a room
That’s shared by many others,
You can’t pretend no rules apply,
Like if you had your druthers.
You have to note the starting time
And when the cycle ends,
‘Cause someone else upon
Your punctuality depends.
It’s understood by all that if
Your washer or your dryer
Comes to a halt and you’re not there,
Then here’s what will transpire:
A person waiting takes a cart
And fills it with your washing,
Just shoving it this way and that
By flattening or squashing.
The slacker gets what he deserves
And has no cause for kvetching,
For he should know what time his clothes
Are done and up for fetching.
We all goof up from time to time
But here is my advice –
If you ignore communal rules,
Expect to pay the price.
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