Hi my frosty friends. Staying warm, I hope. What better way to heat things up, on a freezy January day, than to indulge in a “quickie”? To this end, I offer to you, my loyal readers, ten Stash concocted quickies. They are purely the product of an idle mind and while they offer no profound insight into the human condition, hopefully they will offer you a bit of amusement. Stash

Suffering through winter’s blast.
I sure hope that it don’t last.

Little Owen…
Really growin’.

Big ass TV…
So glad that you belong to me.

Some people have lots of hair.
In my opinion, that’s not fair.

Ozzie is a very good pet.
U-m-m-m… not yet.

Money can’t make you happy
But being broke sure is crappy.


Bunch of “dicks”.

When it comes to food…
I find I’m always in the mood.

Getting Older
I guess that I’m getting older…
Pains in my back, my knees, my shoulder.

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Merry Christmas

Hi Guys,

If I somehow managed to miss you on my Christmas card list… I apologize sincerely. This was the insert for this year’s card. I hope you enjoy it and… have a very merry holiday and a healthful New Year. Stash

Christmas 2014

Santa will be coming soon.
Traveling by the light of the moon,
This jolly gent, who always sees us,
Helps to note the birth of Jesus.

Carrying a sack filled with gifts and toys,
He’ll visit the homes of good girls and boys,
These are the young.. the pure and naive…
They’re unspoiled souls who still believe.


Santa won’t be stopping where kids are sassy
Or homes of children who do things nasty.
No reindeer pausing for them I fear…
Their only hope… there’s always next year.

Be good and have a very merry Christmas,


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Thanksgiving 2014


In the meadow, we can build a turkey…
Snow at Thanksgiving?
Gee, ain’t the weather quirky?

Some folks blame this on climate change.
Technically it’s fall…
But the seasons have rearranged.

Ice and sleet and snowy storming.
I miss El Nino…
Hey… where’s my global warming?


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Fowl Doings

Hello again my friends. Summer is now over (sigh) and “Winter is coming.” Darkness has once again descended (this past weekend) and we live now for the warmth of spring too return. That being said, these dark times are punctuated by moments of brightness… the holidays. Thanksgiving looms and I’ve been working on an offering for y’all. It’s kinda a story… kinda a poem… has a sprinkling of rhymes… but is mostly prose. It is what it is.

I’ve been accused of sometimes being a bit dark in my writings. If this is so, you won’t be disappointed in the fable that follows. Stash

The Twisted Tale of a Turkey Named Tom

It was the eve of Thanksgiving
And a jittery turkey named Tom was upset.
He knew what was, for him, in store.

Long ago, when only a fledgling,
He’d heard of the horror of Thanksgiving…
The gravy, the potatoes… the turkey gore.


Years passed quickly and Tom was now grown.
Ample in figure and deliciously plump,
His fine feathered wings were meaty and strong.

On this morning, there were hushed whispers.
Farmer Joe had sharpened his axe…
Tom knew he was where he didm’t belong.


In a blink, Tom hatched an ambitious plan…
He’d wait for a gust of strong wind…
Then flap his broad wings to fly south.

If all went well, he’d be on a beach,
Basking in Florida’s sun…
Instead of within someone’s mouth.


The next morning, before dawn peeked,
Tom quietly made his way to the yard
He waited patiently for the wind to arrive.

Sadly, on this day the air was still…
Missing was the strong breeze that
Tom had depended upon to survive.


Tom flapped with all of his turkey might
But as much as he tried,
He couldn’t get himself off of the ground.

Fear took hold of our feathery friend.
For Tom, it was a sad realization…
Mother Nature had let him down.

Tom’s plan needed to be quickly altered.
The farmhouse door closed with a bang
And he needed to think quick.

Joe’s eyes scanned the dark coop
But Tom could not be found.
(He had hidden behind a fat chick.)


Unable to seize the bird of his choice,
Joe settled instead on Uncle George.
(This came much to poor George’s distress.)

“I’m not very proud of myself.”
Tom tried to explain to his family…
“Not my finest moment, I must confess.”

Tom was nowhere to be found
And George stood there, at hand…
That’s when Joe stooped to pick him.

Like the plot in a Gothic novel…
Like characters in a Dickens story….
Tom was the coward and poor George became a victim.


I wish this story could have a happy ending…
That the farmer became a vegetarian
And that everyone lived happily ever after….

But sadly, this was not a fairy tale.
There was no sudden reprieve….…
No joyous celebration…. no feathery laughter.


Well, perhaps I spoke in haste…
In denying there wasn’t a bright side
To this tale of betrayal, so malicious.

While many delightful foods
Were offered on this day,
Everyone seemed to agree…

It was George, who was most delicious.


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The Marriage of Dan and Eileen

Hi Friends… The Lady Lex and myself recently had the pleasure of attending the wedding of Dan Graham, the son of our good friends, Vince and Lynn Graham. He was marrying his beautiful fiance Eileen, who is just as lovely on the inside as she is on the out.

This happy occasion went off without a hitch. The weather was perfect; the ceremony was short but very meaningful; each segment of the day was planned in “the style of Dan” and executed with perfection and everyone left the hall having had a great time. To celebrate this event, I’ve written a commemorative poem. Unlike most of my offerings (which usually lean towards the dark, cynical and satirical) this poem is quite different… it is atypically “warm and fuzzy”.

They say that you can’t pick your family but that you can choose your friends. On this day, Lex and I had the fortunate best of both worlds… we were with our friends but were treated like warm and welcome family.

Enjoy the poem. Stash.

A Royal Occasion

The sun shone brightly…
Making the day feel quite fair.
Townsfolk dutifully assembled
For a special occasion, rare.

On this date, Prince Daniel
Would marry his princess, Eileen.
(Truth be known, on this day,
She looked more like a Queen.)

Gathered on the Autumn lawn,
They pledged their loving words.
Sincere statements of devotion
For all, on this day, to be heard.

The ceremony, long anticipated,
Concluded in what seemed a blink…
The gathering then proceeded
To a hall of music, fine food and drink.

The chamber filled quickly
With family, chums and friends.
Each subject a well wisher…
Each a loyal comrade to the end.

Smiles graced the faces of all,
As they ate heartily and danced.
Cloaked in a mantle of warmth…
They shared this night of romance.

The celebration was soon over…
This joining of two, in early fall.
But one memory will last forever…
A good time that was had by all.


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The Challenge of New Parenthood


It’s midnight and the baby cries.
Lots of noise from a boy this size.

1 o’clock… and no one’s sleepin’.
Sweetie doesn’t stop his peepin’.

2 o’clock… there’s impressive whalin’.
Parents strong… resolve not failin’.

3 o’clock… infant’s still darn loud.
Mom, Dad and baby… a cozy crowd.

4 o’clock… the baby’s takin’ a rest.
A pause to refuel at Mommy’s breast.

5 o’clock… angel’s back to tricks…
Demanding another lactose fix.

6 o’clock… the sun’s startin’ to rise.
Fatigue can be seen in parent’s eyes.

7 o’clock… baby offers a yawn.
Time to snooze with early dawn.

Thus ends a long evening of fun.
Three weeks old… Lord, he’s just begun!


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A Seasonal Sigh

Watta bummer…
Last day of summer.


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… And Baby Makes Three

Hello again my friends. I hope this summer has treated you well. Yes. Well, that’s good to hear… stay cool my friends.

The world has been a scary place of late and one cannot help but feel a bit anxious and uneasy.

Well… you all can now calm yourselves. The miracle that we have all prayed and waited for has happened. On Wednesday morning, September 3 (at 3:09 A.M.) my first grandchild… a new Stash Child… came into this world. Weighing in at a robust 8 pounds/2 ounces and at a length of 20 1/2 magnificent inches, young Owen Mitchell was born.

Yes, I know, it seems impossible that the Stash, who we all know and love, has reached this weathered grandparent milestone of life but… true enough… it has happened. David Byrne, creative genius of The Talking Heads, said it best when he once asked, “How did I get here?” I find myself asking the same question.

Regardless, the baton has been passed, the air is again sweet and our foggy future now seems clear and secure. Rejoice.


A Baby’s Yin and Yang

Pink and stubby little nose…
Ten ticklish, cute, wiggly toes.
Curious, bright sky-blue eyes…
Chubby, soft marshmallow thighs.

It took nine months for his debut.
Finally we get our eager view.
Oh, he’s such a perfect baby boy…
An absolute bundle of parental joy.

A wondrous miracle no doubt… but…

How does that round Buddha belly
Produce loaded diapers, oh so smelly?
Icky, sticky and usually wet…
A unique experience that’s hard to forget.

Shoulder spit-up. midnight colic,…
It’s a party… a new kind of frolic.
Yeah, he’s as cute as Peanut’s Snoopy…
But oh dear Lord… another poopy!

Yes, having a baby can be a chore
But in a blink he’ll be out the door.
There’ll be times,
When you feel you’re at your limit
But take a deep breath…
And enjoy every stinkin’ minute.


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Hello my friends. I hope the summer is treating you well. Not too hot for you I hope. It would be unkind (to my teacher friends) if I mentioned the topic of “Back To School”… so I won’t. But rest assured, like Bill Clinton, I feel your pain.

Regarding the true purpose of my contacting you, I wanted to offer to you these mental wanderings. I make no apologies for these annotated “poems”, which are simply the product of an idle mind. I’m not ashamed, yet I’m not particularly proud either. A wise man once said… oh yeah, that was me… “They are what they are.”

Your buddy, your friend, Stash

(Ouch! That sidewalk sure is hot!.)

(Hey, what’s with pigeons and statues?)

(Pardon my past tense.)

Bad luck.
(If you ever had one in your garden, you’d understand.)

(They’re a special kind of stupid, when they cross the road at night.)

No need-o.
(Really God… really?!)

(Home sweet home.)

Wood bite.
(Kinda like shredded wheat… only for bugs.)

(They’re farm things.That’s the best I could do.)

Flutter by.
(O-o-o-oh… pretty!)

(M-m-m… it’s what’s for dinner.)

(I’m a dog person. My insincere apologies to all you kitty lovers out there.)

(That’s where they live, silly.)

Caution sign.
(Get the point?!)

(No, no. Sweetie, be happy with the shape you were given.)


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A Couple of Oldies

Hello friends. Yeah… it’s been a while since we last spoke. Please forgive me. It’s just that I’ve been kinda busy lately and my creative juices just don’t seem to have been flowing. I don’t want y’all to forget that I’m still out here and to that end, I’ve once again dipped into my archives and have selected two of my golden oldies, from 1990, to present to you. One of my poems is a bit introspective and the other is one of ironic humor. I like them both and hope that you will also enjoy them.

Until we meet again, I remain faithfully yours… Stash

Roland Was A Friend of Mine

Roland was a friend of mine.
He used to visit from time to time.
If I was feeling really bad,
He’d always take away the sad.

When life’s road was rough and hilly,
He’d smooth it out by acting silly.
And if my tears, he couldn’t buy,
We’d just sit and and talk and cry.

Whenever I needed him, he was there.
Roland was special because he cared.
He never placed any demands…
We shared a warmth by just holding hands.

I don’t see Roland often anymore
But when I’m alone and stare at my door,
I still see his face and think of him.
Because of Roland, life’s not so grim.

Roland was a friend of mine…
I think of him from time to time.


The Little Apple

The little apple, way up in the tree,
Looked down and asked, “Do you see me?”

But no one did.

Little apple grew larger but he stayed green.
Amongst the leaves, he remained unseen.

He went unobserved.

The days, they passed and apple turned red.
Over and over it was heard he said,

“Do you see me?”

One day apple was finally found…
This was followed by a crunching sound.

Little apple learned a lesson sad:
To be overlooked is not always bad…

Sometimes it’s good to keep a low profile.


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