Best Stashed Poems
Soldier stashed a silver locket
Safe inside his jacket pocket
When the war would numb his senses
He’d break down and drop pretenses
Open up the only token
That recalled those thoughts unspoken
Images of infant, young wife
For their freedom, he’d give his life
Going through some old things that just had to go,
I came upon something that nearly got tossed.
Memories came to me from long ago. . . .
I thrilled that my treasure was no longer lost.
Toys come and toys go. In the 60’s, one fad
was to own an odd doll not seen much today.
This doll had long hair and was scantily clad
but wasn’t a Barbie with which I would play!
Its body was squat and it had a pug nose.
I probably loved it because it looked droll.
Its hair could be orange, green, yellow or rose,
but if you don’t know yet, that doll was a troll!
How I wish I could dredge up some memory
to know what was happening inside my head
as a pre-teen with friends and what it might be
that we did with those dolls and what fun things we said!
The trolls that I owned must have been at least four -
both sexes so they'd make a small family -
their hair different hues, each a doll to adore.
But one day they no longer mattered to me. . .
I can’t say where all of my playthings got stashed.
When I left for college, they vanished from view.
But knowing my mom, they must have got trashed.
She doesn’t hang on much to things like I do.
Now four decades later, I looked at my prize,
bare naked and smudged but its hair still jet black.
It stared up at me with its cute amber eyes.
I couldn’t believe how I got that thing back!
It somehow had ended up in my new state.
Good luck for that troll, I throw few things away!
That doll would be learning soon of its new fate
and meet other troll dolls with whom it would stay.
Just like Peter Pan, I refuse to grow old,
and new trolls I’d bought with long bright spiky hair
when troll dolls again in the 90's were sold!
But I had to recall where I’d stored them….. oh, where??
(I found the dolls and added the old one to the new collection,
but my daughter's family moved in with me a few months ago.
My daughter is a clean freak like MY mom is (apparently it skips
a generation or something), and my daughter took my troll dolls
and put them out of sight somewhere so currently they are floating
around who knows where!
For Paula Swanson's "Yard Sale" Contest
(Un)Happy Hour
Bob went to the doc with pain in his rear
Walked with a limp and was "loaded" with fear
doc hemmed and he hawed
amazed what he saw
Stashed deep in Bob's butt were two pints of beer
No one knows where it happened
and no one knows when or why,
the little, luminous silver star
came tumbling from the sky
Landing with a plunking sound
falling helplessly into the river,
this tiny piece of heaven on earth
became a gift without a giver
For it found itself upon the shore
along the waters of the stream,
and was discovered by a boy
who thought this was all a dream
Held within his small hand
the star pulsed with white light,
glowing with such brilliance
almost blocking out his sight
Kept secret and stashed away
where it could glow no more,
the star found itself among the dust
inside of an old wooden drawer
To him the star was a plaything
to be treated like a favorite toy,
until one day it was forgotten
by the man, no longer a little boy
Since no one ever told him
to wish upon a falling star,
and believe in the things unseen
his dreams never took him far
Had he been taught to wonder
just think what might have been,
still there is no way of changing
what happened, now or then
The fallen star waits here still
in the drawer of his old nightstand,
cornered there by a spider's web
to be found by a young dreamer's hand
And no one knows what happened
and no one knows where or why,
to that little, luminous silver star
who came tumbling from the sky.
The news brought heartache; her dreams were dashed
In a sensuous, ebony gown, she had waited for her man
Till her soldier met his fate in Afghanistan
Her loss now lives on where nightmares are stashed
* August 7, 2020
“Be Inspired” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
She waits for me beyond this shower certain.
I could open it, and be anything I choose to be.
I could have stashed a box of chocolates behind the towels, and
rush into the bedroom with them, and a Hallmark.
Is it my rebellious sprit that has stopped me from behaving this way,
because I don’t want to be told this is the day I should express my love to her.
Could it be that I see her as more than a piece of meat, stepping into my trap so that I shall have my way with her on a prescribed day of the year.
I can’t stop myself from thinking of the saying “Give the people what they want”
But what if what they want is a stupid idea created by Madison Avenue profiteers.
Yeah, well anyway, there’s a box of chocolates, a Hallmark, a bouquet of flowers, a heart shaped necklace, and a cute little bear that does a dance and sings "it’s ladies night" waiting for her. Yes I am a sell out, and I will not try to disguise it with a maybe. When they bring me up on charges for being a conformist, they’ll use that against me. My only defense will be… “It made me feel so damn good to see my baby smile.”
In Phoenix, a story was told
That Tom Cunningham stashed his gold
Since Tom is a bard
They dug up his yard
Marmite in hand, Tom laughed, "You're cold!"
My brain spots are pastel dots
that always fight with my stripes
over who is left and who styles right.
It’s bad enough that my stripes
also argue with each other,
not over their primary color,
but vertical décor versus horizontal.
My brain top is invisible,
not even shadows of minimal.
Brain designers concur it is not fixable.
In the back, well-stashed,
is a golden memory cache
guarded by a spot named Brat.
Small Brat drags a key most tall
and selfishly guards my recall.
Floating, flying, gliding free
is a silver-toned, sprite fairy
who sparkles imagination in me.
Fairy will not argue, just avoid,
my fuzzy brain, logic droid
who climbs over my stripes
and around all my brain dots
attempting to fill and deploy
smarts into all my brain voids.
... CayCay Jennings
March 21, 2018
It being a holiday, with friends, I went to chill out
In a gregarious company, partying was sheer fun
After a heavy booze, my first-time experience,
I fell flat, plunging into deep sleep and dreaming away
In my dream, I sailed away
Over the tame waters of a tranquil bay
And landed in a magic isle
Never set foot before by anyone alive
A pleasant retreat of birds and beasts
Far removed from world’s dust and heat
A tropical island with a magical spell
Hidden away at Nature’s veiled breast
The sky was rent with songs of birds
The air, smelling of odors sweet
Here and there were exotic blooms
Bird of Paradise, Plumeria and jasmine
I roamed frivolously from end to end
Of that enchanted land of idyllic charm
With twining creepers and tall growing grass
Proclaiming aloud of a perennial spring
My heart leaped in euphoric delight
My senses alerted in ecstatic thrill
My feet moved in an explorer’s gait
After the treasures stashed in its caverns deep
I rambled relentlessly through untrodden paths
Feasting on the marvels, my eyes could catch
Arching trees framing a leafy roof
And fruits, ripe and raw, hanging from every bough
As Nature, thus unveiled her bounty before,
My fancy, unfettered took to wings.
I loved my sway over that fairy land
With treasures galore that none could claim
But how suddenly loomed an unwelcome thought
That dampened my spirits and stole my joy
“Will I ever be able to see my folks
To be enmeshed once more in a warm embrace”?
Longingly I looked for a ship skimming the sea
To carry me back to my native land
To get united with all my loved ones
To live a life ever, as lived before
Like a marooned sailor, desperate, as I cried
To alert the ship that sailed away
I heard distinct my husband’s anxious query
“Darling, what made you scream so loud”???
Happiness comes from within
Look inside and you'll begin
To realize life can be fun
Once you seek and find the sun
That lights up within your heart
Those warm sunny rays will start
To heat you up with desire
Leading to a new high fire
Burning into your deep soul
Making you lose all control
Of your emotional decisions
Looking at life through new visions
Seeing all the things you've passed
All the wishes you had stashed
Away, never knowing that they can
Be part of a bigger plan
Including some of the dreams
Realizing now it seems
Every dream and wish comes true
When you see with eyes of new
I saw her there the other day
Left there to just rot ‘n rust away
Setting alone under a sad old tree
She is back in a field; hard to see
Probably a year ‘30 or ‘32 I don’t know
Her tires ‘are flat; bumper is hanging low
Her windows broken; seat is torn and tattered
Her body’s been bruised; lo it’s been battered
With time the old are retired and stashed away
Even though she surely was a beauty in her day
But beauty fades when the road’s too long
When tires on the road no longer can sing their song
So the curtain was drawn on the road ahead
And her tires on the road will no longer tread
Digital currency, the alternative to real cash,
decentralized crypto currency, that can be securely stashed.
No need for a bank, no central authority,
worldwide currency exchanges, this means no digital minorities.
Encrypted digital wallets on smart phones and computers,
you can by tickets, dinner, or investigate another dark net user.
The first BitCoin purchase was a pizza pepperoni,
the acrimonial cicerone of matrimonial alimony.
In other words the price will be paid for separating from the central authorities,
the banks, the global financial powers and whoever else can afford to BE.
Has BitCoin been tainted by SilkRoad and money laundering schemes,
or will the power of cash and credit cards come under the same scrutiny?
Economist wants to stop the misuse of BitCoin and maximize profits,
but there are powers and other interest who only want to stop it.
Paying your taxes with BitCoin may one day be a reality,
the internet of things and the dark net, we are interconnected by technology.
When I think of all I've done
Plans that kept me on the run
I kind of wonder every day
How I pissed my time away
In my thirties there was cash
Not one buck saved
Not one buck stashed
Sure I thought I could reach fame
From art or science
What a shame
For these goals I truly went
And never saved a single cent
So now it's rough
Though I'm not broke
Just don't live like other folk
My neighbors run out nights for eats
Can't afford such costly treats
When Winter comes they go away
I freeze my rear
I'm forced to stay
Yet I feel the need to try
To make some mark before I die
For in truth these other folk
Live a life that's just a joke
The men dried up some years ago
Their wives plan daily where to go
Their brains are focused on the past
No way to know how long they'll last
So my future's not to dread
Even now I'll move ahead
I remember
It was the longest walk of my life
I was tired of running
Nothing really mattered anymore anyway
So I had a friend drive me down to Los Angeles
So I could turn myself in at the Prison Gate
He dropped me off about a block away
I had stashed some things up inside of me
So I could come up once I hit the yard
So every step carried with it
A certain amount of physical pain
But nothing compared to the pain inside
As I walked I was thinking about my wife and kids
At least I was sparing them the sight
Of watching me get carried away in handcuffs
AGAIN
I was so tired
I hadn’t slept in days
And from Northern California where I lived
To the prison in Moreno Valley
Was about a 14 hr drive
But Harry and I were so spun out it took us a couple of days
Anyhow
I was walking along
Empty as a grave waiting on a casket
Hollow as a tree full of termites
So sick of it all that I couldn’t wait to get into my cell
And I started thinking:
With each step along the way
Each has its own price to pay
All the things that I now feel
They have broke down my will
Turn myself in and get it done
These guards will know I’m spun
Is this how far my life has fell
Leave my family to go to hell
I really just wanted it all to end
Get out sooner if I turn myself in
Legs felt like million lbs. weights
20-mile block to reach that gate
With each step desperation grew
Because my very soul was torn into
Just keep on walking and get it done
Jesus Christ fool turn around and run
I knew the guards, which was no surprise
Hell we’d spent years telling each other lies
Final thought of my walk that day
Last time I’m going out this way
Funny, the end of one walk is where another begins
Thats why as I stepped through the gate I had to grin
Written for Constance's contest. This walk
from my friends truck to the Prison gate
was about half a block but seemed like an
eternity. My wife and Parole Officer together
talked me into turning myself in. In short, that
walked sucked really bad, never again! God Bless
mj
They call you corporate?
Well then so am I
You’re that same guy I saw pass by
And cut your eyes in my direction
Like I was some kind of menace
But we’re both lawless
I run my world from where you wouldn’t dare
You run yours from that big corner office
Same hustle
Different size slice cut from the same seedy pie
The only real difference?
You run your sins from a hundred floors high
But you hustle just like me
Mr. White Collar critic
I may openly live it
But just like me
You push your product towards the weak and impulsive
So like it or not you’ve been right in it
Just like me
Supply and demand
Different trade, same plan
We target the same clientele
That same vulnerable man
Cause’ once that money changes hands
We both have no shame
All green money spends the same
You got your stocks, insider trade
I got my rocks
We’re both self made
You got your inside sources turned state’s witness
I employ the young and ambitious
Sometimes they slip up
And they too become snitches
So the flavor in your greed taste just like mine
Two people who at the end of the day
Pull up their britches in the same way
One crooked leg at a time
So you see
You hustle just like me
You got your “just in case” insurance
Stashed off shore, to be dispensed upon request
You launder
I make threats
Eventually,
What both of us want both of us gets
You keep a tight circle
I keep one too
But mine’s called a crew
In any case it keeps us less nervous
But they serve the same damn purpose
They help us sleep while our money stays in service
What I sell makes people believe they can fly
So yes,
My trade is predicated on a lie
But I guess
Your trade is just as cleverly disguised
It’s just that your lies are forgiven by less judgmental eyes
But both our business models have destroyed innocent lives
So in essence
When you stare at me
It’s like a mirrored view into your own scandal clad eyes
You know why?
Cause’ you hustle
Just like me
Copyright © 2014 by Daryl R. Gaines. All rights reserved