Art/Arts

Art/Arts, Emotions, Health/Illness, Stories

What Was I Doing?

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What was I doing lying on the sidewalk?

At Fifth and Chestnut?

Didn’t I just cross the street?

From Independence Square toward the Arden?

What happened?

Why do I see legs, a pole?

Instead of pedestrian faces?

What’s that scrape on my palm?

Who’s the man offering help?

Thanks. Yes, I’m fine, as I grab the outstretched hand.

Pulling me onto my feet.

A little disoriented.

Your shoe hit the cutout in the curb, the stranger pointed.

Sure you’re okay?  he asked before moving on.

I assured him I was fine, dusting off clothing.

I spun to walk with Bob.

Hoping I didn’t rip my slacks.

Thinking, they’re new.

Strange, what goes through the mind.

After an accident.

I looked down.

Slacks, untorn.

Only the leg underneath skinned.

So, we proceeded.

Stopped at CVS for Purell.

To apply to the bloody scrape.

Then off to see Once on this Island.

Fairytale to distract.

Grateful to stand up, move.

Walk away intact.

 

Lynn Benjamin

May 29, 2024

 

All Poems, Art/Arts, For Children, Gardens, Natural Beauty, Seasons

Irises

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May is the month for irises to parade.

Some call them flags, others, bearded flowers.

To me, neither.

Rather, flamboyant dancers.

Wearing skirts, hats.

Standing in chorus lines.

Ready to leap onto the stage.

Spinning, twirling, kicking feet.

In all their finery, feathers.

Blues, purples, pastels.

Often, multicolored.

Each sighting, new surprise for the eyes.

Voluptuous, sensuous.

Diffusing light perfume.

Luring bees and me.

Wishing I could touch their costumes.

Like I might a silk or brocade.

But, instead, I stand back.

Nature’s art, admire.

Like I would Van Gogh’s painting,

letting grace inspire.

Lynn Benjamin

May 12, 2024

All Poems, Art/Arts, For Children, Holidays, Jewish Holidays, Museums, Philadelphia, Pleasure, Trips and Places, Wisdom

Morning After the Second Seder

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It was morning, after the second Seder.

Ordinary excursion to the Franklin Institute.

A favorite museum of grandchildren.

For exhibits on electricity, biology, physics.

A planetarium’s view of the universe.

All with predictable participatory fun.

But not one of us expected the surprise in the special gallery.

The Art of the Brick.

By artist Nathan Sawaya.

New Yorker, whose love of legos bloomed into masterpieces.

Copies of well-known paintings, sculptures.

His own expressive works.

On love, growth, hope.

Collaboration with photographer, Dean West.

Crafting distinctive photos with landscapes and legos.

Even more than prolific production, Sawaya encourages.

Cradles creativity.

Tells you who he is.

His journey from attorney to artist.

Enjoins you to find, honor your unique path.

The visit, ordinary to extraordinary.

Sawaya surely has a goal.

To uplift us and inspire.

Nourish each and every soul.

Lynn Benjamin

April 26, 2024

 

26, 2024

All Poems, Art/Arts, Philadelphia, Regret, Trips and Places

Almost Forgotten

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It was an almost forgotten day.

Forgetting we had tickets to the Academy.

Till I asked a few days before,

Don’t we have tickets?

Searching for the date on the calendar.

Finding it, then actually going.

Ready to walk to the train.

I, noticing Bob forgot his iphone.

Which, he said, he wasn’t supposed to forget.

Because it was on a charger near mine.

Once recovered, we dashed to the train.

Boarding toward Jefferson Station.

But, jumping off so fast, Bob forgot the canvas bag.

Still crumpled on the seat.

Toted so we could buy champagne mangoes.

On a detour to Chinatown.

But I spotted it, grabbed it.

Remembered it.

Breaking the spell.

For the remainder of our time, unforgettable.

Philadelphia production of Hadestown.

Animated, rousing, enthralling.

Ancient story retold, sung.

In a jazzy, snappy way.

Impossible to forget.

We reclaimed our things, the day.

Wanting not one regret.

 

Lynn Benjamin

April 23, 2024

 

All Poems, Argentine Family, Art/Arts, Family, Farewell, Museums, New York, Trips and Places

I Never Thought

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Ilanit said, I never thought I could get around the world so quickly.

So inexpensively.

As we said our goodbyes.

At the staircase leading to the exit.

For she needed to go.

To finish errands on a rainy morning.

Before an afternoon flight home.

To Montevideo via Brazil.

Having just breezed through cultures and countries.

At the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Taking us to Africa, Asia, Europe.

Expeditions to Egypt, China, Japan.

To Spain for El Greco, Goya, Velázquez.

The Netherlands for Van Gogh, Rembrandt.

A whirlwind tour to be sure.

Ila in from Uruguay.

The Met kept us warm and dry.

Tender farewell fluttered by.

 

Lynn Benjamin

April 10, 2024

 

All Poems, Argentine Family, Art/Arts, Family, Farewell, Museums, New York, Trips and Places

Ilanit’s Final Day

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It was Ilanit’s final day in Manhattan.

By unfortunate chance, damp and rainy.

The last leg of a month-long trip.

Buenos Aires, Ecuador, Pittsburgh, New York.

She, ticking off places she wanted to see.

Chelsea Market, Central Park, Broadway.

For the next afternoon, the airport.

To return to Montevideo.

To boyfriend, job, apartment.

I felt fortunate to be on her list.

For her choice to join us.

The very day of her flight.

She could have chosen to swap us out

for a sight she didn’t know.

Instead, she opted to follow us

with enthusiasm, gusto.

Off to meet Elias,

accompany him to the Met.

Sashay through halls, art on walls,

escaping the showery wet.

 

Lynn Benjamin

April 10, 2024

All Poems, Art/Arts, For Children, Gym/exercise, Humor, Stories

Have You Ever Cleaned Out a Closet?

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Have you ever cleaned out a closet?

When moving residences?

Clearing out a vacated house?

Emptying a space in an office, now designated yours?

Who knows what you’ll find?

What you might save?

Toss?

An adventure you engage in to de-clutter, tidy up.

A task done by trainers at our gym.

In the back office of the director.

Where they found hidden equipment.

To add to the armamentarium.

But, also tucked away, a toilet paper holder.

Wooden, in the shape of a toilet.

With a hinged lid.

Decorated like a Valentine.

Though the lace black and white.

Who knows to whom it belonged?

How long or why it resided there?

Who assembled it?

One of those mysterious artifacts.

From a closet dig.

The instructors dusted it off.

Displaying it at the registration desk.

A little piece of whimsy

making those who notice laugh.

Or, at least, do a double take

as they sign in with the staff.

 

Lynn Benjamin

March 12, 2024

All Poems, Art/Arts, Siblings, Wisdom

How Did They Do It?

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How did they do it?

Arthur Marx and Alex Fisher?

Manage to pack Groucho Marx’s life into two hours?

With a twenty minute intermission?

Clearly, they were a talented team.

This production at the Walnut, penetrating.

Capturing story, humor, pathos.

In an economical, entertaining way.

Uproarious laughter from the crowd bespeaking success.

I, too, appreciating jokes.

Ad libs.

Piano and harp.

But, mostly touched by the sibling connection.

Five brothers, three on stage.

For a sibship is complex.

Affectionate.

Competitive.

Playful.

Loyal.

For many, the longest relationship they have.

More years than parent-child.

Marital.

Friend.

When a link in that chain breaks, the blow, heavy.

What was once robust, weakened.

No longer functional.

At the end, Groucho, in old age, mourns twice.

His brother Chico’s death.

Never telling Chico he loved him.

A strong message to us all

whether in bonds with sibs or not.

Don’t wait until life’s over

to express your heartfelt thought.

 

Lynn Benjamin

March 4, 2024

 

Groucho, A Life In Revue, The Musical, played at the Walnut Street Theater on the 100th anniversary of the Marx Brothers musical comedy revue at the Walnut, I’ll Say She Is. Groucho, Harpo, Chico, and Zeppo then took  the show to Broadway.

 

 

All Poems, Art/Arts, Change, Children, Family, For Children, Grandchildren, Mexico, Miracles, Playa del Carmen, Pleasure, Stories, Trips and Places

It Felt a Miracle

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It felt a miracle.

Cancún in the morning.

Philadelphia, late afternoon.

Tropical heat.

Bone piercing chill.

Vibrant palm fronds.

Naked oaks.

Warm Caribbean waters.

Semi frozen Schuylkill.

Sonorous Spanish sounds.

Flat Philly English.

Once in the house, the cell rang.

The children’s mother, our daughter.

How was the trip?

Amazing, said Elias.

Excellent, his sister.

They went on to elaborate.

I asked each, what was your favorite part?

I, thinking cenotes, pools, holding butterflies, the beach.

One said, the temples.

The other agreed.

What about the temples, I asked.

Their decoration, endurance through time, history.

I have to say I was gratified

by interest in Mayan shrines.

How ancient carvings in the stone

revealed beliefs, storylines.

 

Lynn Benjamin

February 29, 2024

All Poems, Art/Arts, Change, Mexico, Time, Trips and Places, Tulum

Mayan Sacred Ground

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Today we tread on sacred ground.

Where Mayan nobility built temples.

Homes, once painted in reds, blues, now white.

From wear, tear of hurricanes, salt air, sun.

Where they docked their commercial boats.

Trading salt, honey, cacao, jade.

Where they made paper.

From the bark of Moreton Bay Figs.

Processed it with lime water.

Where they wrote books.

With an alphabet they developed.

On religion, astronomy, mathematics.

Devised a calendar.

Erected buildings without metal implements.

What made these people so smart?

Resilient?

Enduring?

Their understanding of cyclicity?

Predictability of equinoxes?

Seasons?

So they could plant crops, thrive.

Preserve food.

Use engineering skills to build.

Decorate structures with plant based hues.

What caused their demise?

Warfare between city states?

Deforestation?

Droughts?

Maybe a combination.

Now hundreds of years later, leaving us to ponder.

The legacy they gave.

How they lived and prayed.

Survived so long unfrayed.

In the end, betrayed.

 

Lynn Benjamin

February 22, 2024

The sacred ground we visited was in Tulum.