Stash Report

Happy Spring, my friends! It’s finally warm again and the lilacs are once again in bloom. Sadly, occasionally, there’s no pleasing some people. The following is a testament to that notion. Take care and stay well, my friends. Stash

A Letter To God

Dear God,

After the long, dark, frosty months of winter…

Of icy winds blowing snow into window high drifts…
Of shoveling daily, like an exile in some Siberian gulag…
Of chilled to the bone days and heating pad nights…
Of sleeping in sweats and doubling the bed’s quilt…
Of white knuckle driving on slick icy avenues…
Of slush filled curbs and endlessly soaked socks and shoes…
Of a premature darkness that arrived ever so early in the afternoon…
Of a drab world colored only in shades of dirty gray…

Spring has finally arrived… and with it…

Pollen filled breezes
And countless sneezes.
Budding roses
And runny noses.
Little bird cries,
Red, itchy eyes.
Robin songs sung
And tired, wheezy lungs.

Now, not that I want to be picky…
About the seasons and Your weather,
But Jeez-Louise!
I really think that if You try Lord,
That You might be able do a little bit better.

I’m not asking for favors
And You know I’m not big on prayin’
But don’t You think that
You could get just one season right?
I mean no offense, God… I’m just sayin’…

Your Buddy, Your Pal,

Stash

Hi friends… how’s the winter goin’ for y’all? Yeah… I thought so. Now, don’t get me wrong. I know that out there are those who love the winter and celebrate in all that this season has to offer. They love the cold. They love the snow. They love to ski, sled and toboggan. They even love to shovel!

Please don’t misunderstand. Some snow at Christmas time is nice. It adds to the holiday and it even makes me feel a bit jolly… but that’s about it. The winter of 2013-2014 has been an oppressive one and the following gives hint as to how I feel about living in the deep freeze. Stash

The Darkness

Polar plunge.
Arctic blast…
How long will this winter last?

Rude intruder.
Icy pest.
Be gone with thee, unwanted guest.

Icy streets.
Cars collide.
Is there nowhere we can hide?

Low thermostat.
High heating bill.
Wear a sweater, feel the chill.

Global warming.
Where’d you go?
Can’t see my grass because of the snow.

Cabin fever.
Feelin’ distressed…
Weather challenged and so depressed.

Stash

Depressed? Maybe… but every now and then, the sun shines, temperatures climb and we get to peek under the hem of Mother Nature’s warm and inviting skirt. Occasionally you hear of some brave “winter hater”, who has taken the bull by the… um-m-m… horns and does something about his situation. Like the Indian in the movie One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest, he is the one, who manages to escape the insanity of the world in which he lives. This poem is dedicated to one such person. Stash

The Light

Florida…
Sunshine Ken…
Left Rhode Island for the warmth of a yen.

Long time pal.
Fair weather friend.
Eagerly joined the “snowbird” trend.

Bermuda shorts.
Blossoming plants.
Who knew he was such a smarty pants?

Winter hope?
Tropical scheme?
He’s living the life of my frostbitten dream.

Stash

Hello. I’m not especially proud of this little dittie but it’s something that’s been on my mind. As I often say (and it applies here), “It is what what it is.”

Oh Canada

Boy… I really dislike Canada…
I hate much of what comes from there…
Spoiled entertainers like Justin Bieber…
Months long of their frozen arctic air.

I say… protect our borders from rude intruders.
Send them north to where they belong.
Rid ourselves of these unwanted guests…
And allow our nation to again be strong.

Stash

Welcome friends. Well, well, well. The big day is almost here… I hope that you’ve gotten all of your holiday shopping done. Haven’t left anyone out, I hope? No… I didn’t think so.

Hoping that Santa brings you everything for which you asked… Happy Holiday Y’all. Stash

Pa-Rum-Pa-Pum-Pum

We’re coming to the end of another year
And things are getting better, or so I hear.
Stock market’s up; price of gas a bit less…
Christie’s gonna clean up Jersey’s mess.

But…

We’ll be in Afghanistan until 2024.
Handouts to the world but they want more.
“Friends” take our money… never a thank you…
Their loyalty based on how well their banks do.

The old at home…how do we care?
Slash social security and cut Medicare.
Benghazi, the IRS and the NRA…
Obamacare… hey, what can I say?

China’s smiling and Russia’s on the rise.
Around every corner there’s a new surprise.
A comet is heading towards the earth…
Gee… tough to rev some holiday mirth…

There isn’t much upon which we can depend…
That’s why we’re happy you’re our friend.

Warmest Holiday Greetings,
Alexis and Stash

What follows is a bonus gift from me to you, my loyal readers. Amazingly, there are quite a few of you out there, who believe that I lack a true Christmas commitment. Some sentimentalists feel that I take a bright and happy occasion and corrupt it by making it dark and twisted. While it’s true that I often stray into the melancholy fringe areas of this heartwarming holiday, one should not make the mistake of thinking that I am completely cynical in my attitude towards this very special day. Here is a poetic offering to my sensitive, soft hearted friends.

You may find that this poem can be made even more fun if, as you briskly read this selection, you silently hum to yourself Billy Joel’s “We Didn’t Start The Fire.” You can insert this mantra whenever or wherever you feel the need or urge. I am aware that these two concepts do not meld perfectly and that my meter and rhythm wander all over the place but my aim here was not to produce great literature… it was merely to demonstrate (to those doubters out there… you know who you are) the fact that within my heart, burns brightly the radiant spark of the true Christmas spirit. Stash

christmas bear

mistletoe
ho-ho-ho
merry-merry
nose like a cherry

(♬ we didn’t start the fire…♬)

toy filled sack
santa has a cookie snack
pretty, twirly snowflake
skating on a frozen lake

creamy eggnog
cozy fire, the ole yule log
holly wreath
spruce tree, toys beneath

carols sung
stockings hung
flying reindeer
holiday cheer

north pole helper elves
think not of ourselves
ribbons and bows
brand new clothes

scarfs and gloves
the glow of love
nutcracker ballet
dickens’ christmas carol play

ugly sweater, the wrong size
christmas cards, currier and ives
friendly caring
family sharing

three wise traveling men
bright star, bethlehem
manger, donkey, little lamb
roasted chestnuts, christmas ham

snowman on the frosty lawn
getting up before the dawn
gramps and your little granny
sweet and crunchy sugar candy

warm holiday wishes
eating on the special dishes
silver bells
kitchen smells

garland and twinkle lights
decorations, christmas sights
popcorn on a string
hark the herald angels sing

shopping at the lighted malls
singing off key, deck the halls
horse drawn troika sleigh
mom cleans house as kiddies play

as you see, i’m not some holiday stooge…
a modern version of dickens’ scrooge.
though my sentimental poems are rare…
admit it… i’m a big ole christmas bear.

stash

Hello dear friends and loyal readers. Here it the third installment of my rejected Christmas card poems. It’s short, sweet and to the point but it was, nonetheless, judged unworthy by my Queen. If you have been enjoying my Christmas offerings, I invite you to click onto December 2011 of my blog archives. (Scroll down a bit… it’s on the right. Click on “continue reading” to get the full poem.) There, you will find twenty or so of my previous holiday gems.

Please don’t forget… on December 24th, I’ll be posting the poem that actually made it into this year’s holiday card. Besides that, there will be a surprise offering that will hopefully bring a smile to your face. Until we meet again, be good and stay well. Stash

A Christmas Greeting

Toys break.
Clothes wear out.
Batteries die.
The Chia won’t sprout.*

Gifts are welcome.
And presents are nice
But give me friendship
Over an Apple device.

Wishing you a merry Christmas
And a very happy New Year

Stash

* ♪♪ Cha-Cha-Cha-Chia ♪♪

Hi guys. We’ve arrived at another Friday before Christmas and as promised, I am posting another of my “rejected” Christmas card poems. I got some pretty positive feedback on my previous posting… my offering was all warm and fuzzy and pure in its intent. I fear that I may not fare so well this time as this poem lives in the land of silly satire. Stash

Christmas 2013

Rudolph tripped Santa with his size 12 hoof
And the Old Man tumbled right off the roof.
“It was an accident!” I heard Rudy swear…
Though are are rumors… we won’t go there.

The fall was long and Santa hit hard…
Face down, spread eagle in the front yard.
Stuck with the barbs of a ten foot holly,
Santa certainly didn’t feel very jolly.

The EMTs arrived with lights a flashing.
Through the snow, they went dashing
To the hospital’s emergency room…
A Christmas surprise, to be delivered soon.

Before Santa could get past the nurse guard,
He had to produce his insurance card.
From the North Pole, Santa had it faxed
But he discovered… he’d been axed!

They released Santa that night, injured and untreated.
He returned to the North Pole, bruised and defeated.
The elves now push Santa in a creaky wheelchair…
Sadly… just another casualty of Obamacare.

Stash

Hello, dear friends and loyal readers. Happy holidays to you all.

Somewhere back in October, I came to the anxiety provoking realization that Christmas was quickly approaching and that I had yet to come up with another poem for our annual holiday card. I’ve been doing these little ditties for many years… it’s kinda expected… but I gotta tell you, each year it gets more and more difficult. I guess I’ve dealt with X Mas in every way possible… my poems have been, at various times: dark, irreverent, warm and fuzzy, facetious and sincere. Yes, I’ve done things to Santa that shouldn’t happen to a dog. (It’s a good thing that the Old Man can take a joke.)

It’s difficult for me to come up with my poems “on demand”. When I force them, they usually come out stiff, uninteresting and quite often, a bit stupid.

Eventually I managed to compel myself to sit down at the computer, hoping that when needed, inspiration would arrive. Alas… nothing came. Arggh and ouch! Blank brain, blank page.

As the days wore on, I started… stopped, started…stopped with frustrating regularity. Nothing. The expression, “Garbage in, garbage out” surely applied to what I was composing. One day, however, the inspiration bug bit my nimble fingers and I managed to crank out a rough copy of what I thought might be a good candidate for our card. Unpolished, I submitted this fledgling writing to my editor and most trusted critic (the Lady Lex). I was hopeful… surely I had the beginnings of something fabulous. My dear wife read the poem and paused. (She knew how hard I had worked and how much I wanted her to like it.) Looking up into my hopeful and expectant eyes, she said, “Nah.”

Failure… it’s a bitter fruit to swallow.

To make what is already too long a story a bit shorter, I will cut to the quick. The result of my labors finally resulted in four possible candidates for publication. I presented these plums to Queen Lex and she, like some reincarnated Roman empress, gave them each a read, followed quickly by a thumbs down or thumbs up.

In the end, a poem was chosen and will be inserted in this year’s holiday card. (It will be featured here in my report on the 24th of this month.) Because my other three “rejects” were (I thought) pretty good I have decided to also publish them on the Fridays of this month. (December 6th, 13th, 20th) I present to you now, the first of my three poetic also-rans. Your Buddy, Your Pal, Stash

Christmas Magic

If you’re looking for Christmas’ magic,
Look into a toddler’s eyes…
They’re void of a grown-up’s cynicism…
Full of innocence and surprise.

In a world of troubles…
One of avarice and what money buys…
You can still find genuine delight
In a toddler’s unspoiled eyes.

Children learn to be greedy…
But when little, they are free.
Interested not so much in presents…
They focus on the tinsel and the tree.

Stash

Hi Friends. It’s been a while since I last posted a new writing. I’m not so sure why nothing new or interesting has popped into my head but I do want you to know that my little blog still exists out here in the darkness that is internet. For this reason, I am reaching again into my archives. What follows is neither deep nor profound. Actually, it’s pretty silly stuff and is presented merely to coax a smile. For some of you this may be a nostalgic memory; for others, it will be a new reading experience. Stash

The Story of Roy (As Was Related, One Night, to a Stranger)

If you looked closely, then you would swear…
She didn’t have on any underwear.

Her name was Ida Care.

If you wanted to know if something was so…
She wasn’t the one to whom you’d go.

Her name was Ida Know.

Spoiled rotten, a contrary mama…
Pampered from birth, a real prima donna.

Her name was Ida Wanna.

Three young ladies with the name of Ida.
They all ate cookies and drank apple cider.
Very different but each did loved Roy…
He brought them his ardor; they brought him joy.

I’ve heard of too much of a good thing.
But who knew the woe that love could bring?
Words and kisses were what thrilled them.
Passion’s desire was the thing that filled ’em.

As for our Roy… sadly, that’s what killed him.

It’s hard to believe… but this story’s true.
I swear… Roy was a boy who I once knew.

Replied the stranger to whom this was told…
“You claim this happened but… I’m not sold…

…Ida Thinkso.”

Stash

The Lady Next Door

The lady next door swims naked.
Her son charges a dime a peek.
But it didn’t cost me nothin’…
You see, I’m just a big sneak.

Stash

While Hugs Are Warm

While hugs are warm,
What really pleases…
Are life’s little loving squeezes.

Dream of passion
But the stir of romance is
Found in its suggestive glances.

Shout of love
But the warmest glowing
Can be found simply in the knowing.

Stash

Hi Friends. Yesterday’s anniversary, as well as the politics of the day, have caused me to again reflect upon the mysteries of my existence. What follows it my answer to cheap psychoanalytical therapy. Stash

Ambivalence

In the days before 9/11
I gave little thought to hell and heaven.
Since that date, I’ve given pause
To reflect on tragedy, effect and cause.

My “conclusion”:

One’s for real… not at all obscure…
Regarding the other… I’m still not sure.

Stash

Hi friends. Yeah.. I know it’s been a while. Forgive me. Lately I’ve been uninspired… call it the summer time blues. Nothing new coming from this old man so I thought I’d go into my trunk and see what might please y’all. What I offer today is surely guaranteed to provoke an “aw-w-w-w”. StashOnce A Little Acorn Fell

Once a little acorn fell.
He had, by chance, come free.
Hitting softly upon the ground,
He made only a tiny sound
But please do not fret…
One day he’ll become a great oak tree.
And little child, so will thee.

Although you are small
And may now feel slight,
Sing your precious songs,
Even though they may sound wrong
And do as the little acorn does…
Reach always towards the light,
Knowing within that all is right.

It’s from a tiny spark
That a flame does grow
And though you are now unsure,
What matters is your heart is pure.
The truth that lives inside
Is all that you can know.
Be young and let your instincts flow.

Rest little acorn…
One day a grand tree you’ll be
But this is something you can’t rush.
Yes dear child, I know… but hush.
Time is all you need.
Allow your spirits to run free
And know, little child, that I love thee.

Stash 11/20/90