By Roberta Curley Eating ice cream is like breathing. It jumpstarts day and night. I mourn summer’s end. It often spells doom for free flowing ice cream. Licking each novel flavor keeps me from obsessing over my jewelry stash. Jewelry may be heavy but it’s not fattening. It is said: “a thing
-
-
Wooden Wonder
By Roberta Curley If I could see posterity, I’d relinquish my identity, cork cerebral cacophony, and roll via schooner on a glass river to eternity my Hudson escape dismisses reality, deflects clouds capping crew, dredges silty ripples and dissolves shore Photo credit: Roberta Curley.
-
Caruso’s Quips
By Charles Caruso You can do anything they can’t stop you from doing. A man who calls a woman ‘baby’ doesn’t know much about women —or babies. Some people are jelly, some are jam. Power complaint: These outages are outrageous. Dallas was a much greater shock than Pearl Harbor or 9/11. Dallas involved someone we
-
Caruso’s Quips
By Charles Caruso Too much is just right. The one who calls is the one in need. From the cosmic to the comic to cognac. Sign outside geriatric clinic: Geezer Diseases. Tea is a slap on the wrist. Coffee is a punch in the nose. Delay is death to the petitioner. The one who calls
-
Skullduggery
By Roberta Curley Growing older makes me hanker for an anesthetic. At 6 a.m. I spy a chubby crease wend its way from my lower-eyelid to my upper lip. In the past, those ‘sleep lines’ would have vanished by breakfast time. Neither coaxing nor scrubbing erases the propagating interlopers. These intrusive keepsakes operate like indelible
-
Mermaid Parade Splashes Up Coney Island’s Surf Avenue
By Karen Rempel Summer began with a splash on Saturday, June 22 with Coney Island’s 37th annual Mermaid Parade. Mermaids, Neptunes, merkids, and merdogs paraded in sea-deep splendor to a crowd of over 840,000 people. The parade ended with Coney Island-born King Neptune, Arlo Guthrie, and Queen Mermaid, Nora Guthrie, together with the self-designated mayor
-
Caruso’s Quips
By Charles Caruso Politicians: One year they’re inducted, next year they’re indicted. Confession may be good for the soul but it’s hard on a marriage. A president may be a clown but the system that produced him is not funny at all. You can tell a lot about people by how long they leave their
-
Caruso’s Quips
By Charles Caruso New York is the only city where you can see Dada at MoMA. Spring is a promise summer doesn’t keep. Dogs are not as stupid as cats think. The biggest pest is the right-on-time guest. Where were the Three Wise Men when he needed them? Sunrise doesn’t start the day. Coffee does.
-
Caruso’s Quips
By Charles Caruso – A woman’s touch is always a signal. If the passage from life to death is as painless as the passage from waking to sleeping, we have little to fear. Congress: From oversight committees to overlook committees. The shadows of snow. The inevitable orneriness of the inert. There’s a silent click in
-
Frantic Antics
By Roberta Curley To me, you’re no old mare yet a platinum sheen dapples your hair your every breath reflects a savoir faire accenting your mojo extraordinaire if I could pinch a beauteous lock rare from your tender head—I swear I’d hug it to my heart in prayer that your debonair flair we might
-
Angels belong
By Roberta Curley look what it took for you to uncover their path I won’t gallivant upward not while I’m down here doing stuff like tightening difficult-to-screw-in lightbulbs or whooshing along avenues of the self-interested my plan is to try Daddy, you’d be SO proud your prayers stream in daily I’m striving to budget and
-
Driven
By Roberta Curley She stoops like those toughened memories saddling her back unashamed of the fabric she braided even pondering a comeback her blood courses and races like a thoroughbred in its paces but her breath whirrs and hums sleep bearing peace which numbs tho vintage consolation prizes ring – a flaming peach sunset in
-
Neighbors
By Roberta Curley My neighbors start crawling around 5 a.m.— both possess two feet equivalent to four noisemakers totaling eight ballbreakers (with shoes) intergalactic attack-drones set my eardrums afire no intelligent life form would create such mire now I comprehend what ‘rude awakening’ means plus I’m plagued by shattered dreams thumps clumps bumps— even squeaks
-
Mia’s Mystique—Is It Love … ?
Mia’s monthly mug shots melt scores of WestView readers to their cores as her aura bounces off the page pure charm begs viewers to engage Mia resembles Doris Day exhibiting the star’s attributes in myriad ways sporting Doris’s perennially perky smile Mia’s fetching lips curl up in style Mia’s eyes are big love valentines her
-
SOON IS NOW
By Roberta Curley March is soups and starches streets smacked with slush April shoots daffodils afoot astronauts a-launching not a soul rushes by clusters of plucky pink impatiens data-piqued students stow motherboards in cupboards millennials romp in shorts and tees, revisiting ice cream’s glee …soon soon… kids rediscover ball-play and teams, squishing squeaky greens
-
Audio-Peek
By Roberta Curley I hear everything but the breathing— the irregular thumps the floorboard thud the squeaks signaling the creaks the twisting coils and I know #2B is embroiled in something familiar. When silence settles and envy subsides, I whisper-wish them well praying that someday I will sigh myself to sleep listening only to
-
Staring Into Space
By Roberta Curley We boogied on my Dad’s porch. I whooped out karaoke to Chuck Berry’s “Sweet Little Sixteen.” My boyfriend Guy preferred crooning Elvis. He begged me: “(Let Me Be Your) Teddy Bear.” I pleaded: “Chill, Guy. I’m capturing the sky.” My blue sky was lined with puffy, white parallelograms. Who knew this
-
Devastated Moon
By Roberta Curley This poem is dedicated to all victims of the October 31, 2017 New York City terror attack. Even the moon is mourning. She’s in protection mode tonight, in cahoots with unsettled clouds who don black crepe to crisscross her full-moon glare. The moon apologizes to worshippers and fans, those reliant upon her—
-
A Yankee Visits New England
By Roberta Curley I had a moment, I was in the moment. Grace brought me here, grace will take me home. Birds travel safe, I will glide too as the sun, herculean, rises like lemon meringue pie. Ducks dance on water beneath my window panes. A New Hampshire waltz pulls me to its brightness,
-
“Each Day Catches Fire”: Revisiting the Latvian Poet Imants Ziedonis
By Bitite Vinklers I first met Imants Ziedonis in New York, in 1978, at a reading he gave at Columbia University during his first visit to the United States. The room was packed, and there was excitement and anticipation in the air. Not only was Ziedonis one of Latvia’s most prominent poets, but Latvia
