The Holland Tunnel’s gussied up.
Its holiday display
Made some commuters angry
And they finally had their say.

Two wreaths were boldly planted
On the “O” and on the “U,”
So “Holland Tonnel’s” what appeared
To people driving through.

A Christmas tree was mounted, too,
On top of Holland’s “N.”
The “A” would be a better match,
The critics voiced again.

The ones in charge arranged a vote;
Results were tallied fast,
The decorations switched around
From the opinions cast.

The tree was moved, one wreath is gone;
There’s now a happy aura,
Which would be perfect if they had
Included a menorah!

symbol of Chanukah, a Jewish holiday
celebrated at this time of year

Anyone can write a poem
And think that it’s fantastic
Though often others may be slightly
Less enthusiastic.

For inner critics sometimes fail
To note that something’s missing
And few admit their efforts
Might, in fact, be worth dismissing.

And so the world is filled with poems,
Most internet-inspired,
Where talent is an asset
Neither looked-for nor required.

Of course, since I am one who writes,
You may think I’ve concluded
That I’m just like all the others
But then you would be deluded!

Other poets write of love
Or beauty, anguish, death;
Of yearning, angst or pity
Tangled up in every breath.

Other poets use their words
As weapons or as shields,
Gauging by reactions
All the power writing yields.

Other poets elevate
Their subjects way up high,
Seeking truth or explanations,
Answers to their aching “Why?”

I, though, on the other hand,
Just write what I observe –
The daily challenges in life
We do or don’t deserve.

Other poets’ lofty thoughts
May, more than mine, be read,
But I’ll continue rhyming
Like I always do, instead.

I am a curled up comma
When I sleep, so give me pause.
I’m sentenced to insomnia
Which grips me in its clause.

I’m subject to a poor night’s rest;
That’s predicated on
The fact that I have tossed and turned
Each night that’s come and gone.

Don’t question if I’m in control
Or I’ll get out of joint
And answer very forcefully
With exclamation point.

The night’s a restless period
And though I barely sleep,
My colon and its semi-friends
My secrets somehow keep.

Plan on online purchase?
Well, just click on the reviews.
It helps to hear what people say –
What have you got to lose?

Your mind, perhaps, for you’ll find out
Opinions vary widely,
From those described most glowingly
To others penned most snidely.

The bar graph gives percentages
Of how the ratings fare
So follow the conclusions
Or reject them, if you dare.

For everyone’s impressions
Will be different and distinct
And those who thus ignore them
Will be very soon extinct.

I'm ready for some music;
The radio's all set,
But begging me for money
Is all that I can get.

The pleading is relentless,
Yet does beseeching serve?
For constant supplications
Really get on my last nerve.

To turn off their entreaties,
Subtle as a striking sledge,
I simply switch the station;
No allegiance will I pledge.

I believed Anita Hill;
So did all my friends.
History repeats itself;
We know how it ends.

Watching makes my stomach turn
For loyalists won’t budge
And thus the Court will have on board
Another suspect judge.

It really isn’t a surprise
When those in our regime
Distort the truth with consequences,
In this case, Supreme.