Stash Report

Hi friends,

What to do? What to do? The folks in Washington wrestle in vain with the immigration situation and there seems to be no solution in sight. I don’t know what the answer will be but I do know how we got ourselves into this pickle. Stash

Why All The Illegals? Well, I’ll Tell Ya…

It has occurred to me, after some surmising…
That we’re the victims of our own advertising.
Illegals have taken our words too literally…
“The home of the brave, the land where all’s free.”

Stash

Hi Friends,

Many folks out there are saddened by the recent death of actor James Gandolfini (aka Tony Soprano). He has “shuffled off this mortal coil” and assumed an untimely seat at the head table in that big pasta palace in the sky. What a shame. This poem is my farewell to the big fella. Stash

Tony… We Hardly Knew Ya

In a flash, quiet brooding silence
Sparked into abrupt and ultra violence.
A gent as large as a grand piano…
We all knew the man as Tony Soprano.

Conflicted and wrapped in mother issues…
Psycho therapy with a box of tissues.
Topless dancers and a myopic wife..
Misfit children sharing a screwed up life.

Garbage hauling with a bit of killing…
Business colleagues all very willing
To punch a face or smash a head…
“Negotiating” until someone was dead.

But Tony was lovable, in his bad-boy way…
It’s a sad pity that he just couldn’t stay.
His show ended in vague, uncertain mystery…
An inadequate resolution to Soprano history.

Death intrudes.

Reality sometimes mirrors the make believe…
Once again, fans feel their need to grieve.
As with the unclear finale to his show,
What might have been… we’ll never know.

Stash 6/24/13

Hi Friends,

In the interest of impartial fairness, I present to you Ozzie’s response to my previous editorial, “Ozzie Is a Very Bad Dog”.Stash

A Rebuttal

I read your poem the other day
And was surprised at the things
You had to say.

(Yes… even a dog has feelings.)

What exactly was my sin?
Losing your love…
When did that begin?

(Though we’ve had our ups and downs, I never saw this one coming.)

Didn’t I always wag my tail
When you came in…
And without fail.

(Maybe a meaningless gesture to you but it meant a lot to me.)

Remember when I chased the ball?
Didn’t I go running,
When you called?

(I’m not really into balls but I pretended… for you. Remember how you laughed?)

Sure, I chewed the occasional shoe
But never once
Did I bite you.

(Hm-m-m-m… maybe once but I was high on rawhide and that day’s all a bit dim.)

Sadly our frolicking is forgotten…
All the sweet times…
Now turned rotten.

(Were those years we shared really just a sham?)

Hey… what’s that in your hand?
Is that my leash?
“Walkies”?! Why… you da man!

(You really do love me after all! Dr. Phil says that most couples go through these rough patches.)

Stash 6/13/13

Hi Friends. Today I present, for your entertainment, a poem that continues the story of Lex’s precious puppy, Ozzie. Those of you out there, who actually know the real Oz, acknowledge that deep down, he is a sweetie-pie in a fur coat. It’s just that it’s so darn hard to get beyond his “balls to the wall” greeting, when you come through our front door. A doggy diva, he wants your attention… he demands it. Ozzie is going to be three years old in August and while most acknowledge that “He’s getting better.”, I think this is more an expression of sympathy rather than an actual statement of fact. Stash

Ozzie Is A Very Bad Dog

Ozzie is a very bad dog…
Though he really doesn’t mean to be.
It’s just that he can’t help it…
He was born this way, you see.

Please don’t misunderstand…

Sometimes Ozzie has interludes normal…
Spells when he doesn’t utter a peep.
Stretches when he is calm and composed…
Precious moments… like when he’s asleep.

Impulsive and easily distracted…

Ozzie’s behavior is like a hurricane.
If you attempt to describe its weather,
The best you can say… “It’s awful…
I hope tomorrow’s gonna be better.”

Mother Nature has played a cruel trick…

Looking at life through a fun house mirror,
Everything sees to twist and turn and twirl.
Poor Ozzie has a dreadful affliction…
Born a dog, he has the brain of a squirrel.

Stash 5/28/13

Hi Friends. I’ve been working on a couple of poems but it’s been a real struggle and they’re no where near complete. I know how you fans hunger for regular installments of my stuff and for that reason, I’ve gone down to my dusty archives and have selected a poem from April of 1991. I don’t know what I was thinking, when this was written, but I think it holds up over the couple of decades since it was first penned. Stash

So…

So… Life ain’t what you expected,
You’re feelin’ down and rejected.

Aw-w-w-w.

Don’t forget…

Life is sorta like the weather.
Cloudy days eventually get better.

They always do.
Don’t they?
Yeah.
(Usually.)

Remember…

If you’re sad and feelin’ beat,
Without the sour, you can’t taste the sweet.

I’m sure that…

Tomorrow, when the sky is sunny,
All your problems will seem funny.

Yep.

If you can get through these untimely showers,
You’ll find yourself standin’ in a field of flowers.

Think positively.
Keep your karma blue.

Stash

Another Story of Easter

The Easter Bunny came a day too late
And the impatient kiddies had to wait
For their anticipated sweet goodies.

Easter morning… such a disappointment…
‘Cause Rabbit didn’t keep his appointment.
No jelly beans, colored eggs, marshmallow peeps.

There were cries, tantrums and angry tears…
Then sarcastic curses from the little dears…
Betrayal’s taste, bitter in their mouths.

On Monday, Bunny rose from his bed early.
Unknown to him… the children, still squirrelly,
Were planning an unexpected greeting.

Bun bounded off to fulfill his late chore
But as he hopped to the first door,
He, with basket brimming, was seised.

Led quickly to kitchen and the awaiting stove
Bunny’s fears rose as his hopes dove…
He sensed what was coming his way soon.

You see, now a days children are raised selfish…
And when wronged, angels can become devilish.
Such was the case, this day that followed Easter.

Feeling entitled to what was their due…
Their recompense: biscuits and rabbit stew.
For them, an especially tasty feast indeed.

Surely a lesson lurks within this allegory…
Nah… Twas merely a silly Stash holiday story.
(Hey! Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.)

Stash

Spring?

It was a morning that the sun never rose…
The day that budding daffodils froze.
Cold winds blew and frost replaced the dew.
Spring had arrived………… but who knew?

Stash

Hello my dear,dear reader. Today, for good or bad, I offer to you the following poems. I do so in the hope that they bring a smile to your face and a bit of sunshine to your day. Stash

Ambivalence

It’s hot.
It’s cold.
It rains.
It snows.
It’s windy.
It’s still.
Summer swelter.
Winter chill…
It’s March in New Jersey.

Stash

The American Dream

Cruising the offerings on my wide screen TV,
I chanced upon a station called QVC.
Like Dorothy stepping into the world of Oz…
I was dazzled by all of the things I saw.
There, happy hosts with plastic smiles
Were joined by guests and were ‘selling wild’.
It was like going to the mall to lose the blues,
Only from my couch and without my shoes.
A lovely apparition… one that could haunt…
There before me… anything I could want:

Spanks that flatten your chubby tummy.
Omaha Steaks, looking really yummy.
Joan River’s dresses that make you slimmer.
Emeril’s pots so you can simmer.
Shiny coin sets, both new and old.
Knives and swords to have and hold.
Cakes and cookies you don’t have to bake.
“Diamond” rings that don’t look fake.
Jeans that stretch, when you wear them…
Sewing machines, for when you tear them.
Flirty dresses and slim pencil skirts,
Chinese jackets, embroidered shirts.
Faux fur coats and Irish sweaters.
Energy drinks for the young go-getters.
Computers, processors… you name the appliance.
Camping equipment for self-reliance.
Bonbons, taffy, sweet peanut brittle…
Tabletop ovens, George Forman griddles.

If there’s a heaven, this must be it…
Wrong size? Return it, if it don’t fit.
And if you struggle with banking statements,
Delay the cost with three stretch payments.
Using Visa also helps to make life nice…
Good God! QVC is a shopping paradise!

Stash

Happy Valentine’s Day, my dear friends and readers. I offer you today a gift of three random poems. They are snippets of thoughts that have cluttered my mind in recent days. Now, unburdened, I will enjoy the rest of the day. Hugs and kisses to you all. Stash

The Times, They Are…

What in life is sadder than
An old guy wearing a pony tail?
Trying hard to hold onto youth…
Knowing all the time that he’ll fail.

The years and decades slip by.
Unnoticed, it happens in a blur
But at a certain point in time,
An awareness begins to stir.

A changing of the guard has occurred
And the upstarts have taken the lead.
Like a line from one of Dylan’s poems…
Denim has now replaced the tweed.

Stash 2/14/13

An Opinion

I dislike those who cry, “I LOVE THE SNOW!”.
They’re bad news… nothing but trouble.
They ski and sled in winter’s icy show…
But they don’t dare touch a shovel.

Stash 2/14/13

He asked…

Will you be my Valentine
And share, with me,
A small bit of your heart?
Can you find a bit of time
And maybe, for a day,
Be my dear sweetheart?

Summoning all his boldness,
He posed his inquiry
Through worry and distress.
Concerned she’d respond with coldness,
Much to his delight,
She answered warmly…
Yes.

Stash 2/14/13

Happy New Year, my fine friends and loyal readers. I hope all is well with you and the world that surrounds you. Coming off the holiday season, it occurred to me (not, by any means, a unique thought) that wouldn’t it be nice if everyone looked at life through the eyes of a child? Here’s a parable that reflects such a thought. Stash

Lesson To Be Learned

It was Sunday… a snowy January morning…
Martha Mouse peeked out of her burrow window.
She knew that she didn’t have any school today…
She had nothing else to do but play and play and play.

Squirming out of her warm flannel pajamas,
Martha moved quietly, not wanting to rouse her family.
She dressed in her winter coat, scarf, and mittens…
Tip toeing next door to her friends, the Katzenjammer kittens.

The house was dark and its curtains were still drawn;
Martha tapped lightly at the bedroom window of her friends.
Rubbing the sleep from their eyes, Carl and Cathy smiled…
They saw it was their neighbor Martha, the little mousey child.

Through the panes of frosted glass, Martha explained
That though very early, the day ahead lay full of promise…
There was icy excitement and adventure to be found
In the soft snowy blanket that now carpeted the ground.

The kittens quickly dressed and joined their friend outside.
Of necessity, they also moved with quick, deliberate stealth…
You see, their home harbored a deep intolerance towards mice.
To be seen in rodent company, well… that just wasn’t nice.

Disregarding family orders, throwing caution to the wind,
Carl and Cathy crept outdoors to Martha, their secret playmate.
The loving friends spent their day in bliss, frolicking in the snow.
(It surely wouldn’t hurt their parents, if their parents didn’t know.)

The friends shared hours of joy… of pure innocent delight;
Making angels in winter’s powdery gift, constructing forts,
Throwing snowballs, slip-sliding on the frozen lake…
They shared a warmth that prejudice could not unmake.

Afternoon’s sun began to dim; the playmates parted with a hug…
It was a day woven from childhood’s innocent intentions.
The friends had played in harmony… without hostility or shame…
Such a pity that most grownups are unable to do the same.

Stash