Month: December 2019

 MY NAME IS GUY NOIR
  
 She is a lady!  
 Recognized by many.  
 I know her and can say 
 that she is all of that, 
 but then so much more
 I call her the story-teller 
 and I have heard them all
 My name is Guy Noir and 
 I’ve been around the corner 
 a time or two
  
 I’m an investigator and though 
 I’ve not been gainfully employed 
 for a while as such,
 I have taken this gentle job 
 as an usher in the local library
 I started as assistant, 
 but now I’m the main man.
 Everyone comes to me for 
 information, confirmation and affirmation
  
 She’s no different.  
 She has twelve stories 
 and has told me as much
 The thing she tries to hide is 
 the various forms of the same tale
 Her routine is to work the stories 
 depending on the crowd
 There are direct versions and the embellished
  
 Knowing her people is the key
 This passes over most but
 I am not routine challenged
 I can spot her type a mile away
 My talents are such that 
 I wonder why I don’t have more work
 That’s the way the investigative business goes
  
 The stories are hers and 
 she’s got them down
 She plays the same song in twelve scales
 A lot of people enjoy her tune
 Those that don’t stock up on rope
  
 Hanging themselves is the easy way out
 Guilt is hers when this happens 
 and she feels real bad
 Then again she has 
 a wholesale outlet for flowers 
 So she’s really all set
  
 There are not many like her
 And as I’ve said
 I’m Guy Noir and I know
 She is good at what she does
  
 Stanski
 December 5, 2019 ^
  
   

 FRED AT BEDTIME

 Fred decided to go to bed
 His wife Hazel was already in bed
 Well I guess I’m going to bed Fred said
 Would you shut the ****
 Would you be quiet Fred?
 I’m trying to sleep over here
  
 Fred quietly slipped into bed
 He wasn’t very comfortable
 His house robe was still on
 It had been a gift from Hazel
 Thanks again for the robe Hazel
 Shhh!  Said Hazel
  
 Fred threw the robe away
 He had never liked it 
 Chenille had never been a hit with him
 Hazel recovered the discarded robe
 She took it to Goodwill Industries
  
 Scouting the bins she
 Found a silk robe and
 Thought it would fit Fred
 She liked him in robes and
 Sometimes referred to them as smoking jackets
 Fred did not smoke
  
 It’s very nice said Fred after
 He had tried it on
 Thank you Hazel
 The next day
 Fred left home
 He stopped at the Grocers
 He loved oranges
  
 Stanski
 December 4, 2019 ^
   

  
 Doors close; chapters end; friends go
 We take this with sorrow and sometimes regret
 Once gone there is nothing we can do
 There was a chance once.
 Maybe it was missed.  Maybe not
 We go on.  We think
 Sometimes we beat our self up
 But why?
  
 Life is a two way street
 We can only travel one way at a time
 The regret may be that we can’t travel two
 Life works its own way and
 Unfolds for us and is there for the taking or leaving
 We take when we can or when convenience dictates
 We leave when we must
 There is no other way
  
 We embrace and cherish
 Those who give comfort
 And give back more or less as we can
 Life goes on
  
 We see things we can’t believe
 We believe things we can’t see or understand
 We remember and then forget
 We learn and fail to implement
 Overall we improve ourselves and move forward
  
 We look for the truth and know we only have today
 Do what we can and release the rest
 Be joyful and believe in yourself
 Worry not about the goodbyes
 Focus on the hellos
  
 Stanski
 December 4, 2019 ^

 I’ll be there for you
 I can make that promise
 It is my life and
 I know the way
 Never wasting time
 Living on a prayer
 Keeping the faith is good
 But not wearing it on 
 Your sleeve is even better
 People like action
 Not just stories of
 What you might do
 If only things go your way
  
 In my arms
 You will have a life
 I’ll be there for you
 Unbroken; never broken
 Even in the worst of times
 I am not a runaway 
 That would be bad medicine
 And I don’t want a roller coaster life
 So lay your hands on me
 Just because you can and want to
 You will never have any regrets
 Every day will be Saturday
 You’ll be saying we’re living a love song
 I’ll be saying thank you for loving me
  
 Stanski
 December 4, 2019 ^ 

 TODAY’S VISIONS
  
 Just a glance to the north
 Trees with branches full of
 Technicolor leaves catching the
 Light of the southern sun fills us
 With enchanting feelings
  
 Father Frost has been busy
 He is a show-off and pretends
 That all of this is easy 
  
 We are infatuated with the one we are with
 And pass through the seasons together
 Years slip by while we hardly notice
 We dance our way through all kinds of weather
 Soon we find ourselves in our autumn
 We are thankful for the beauty we find
 When the right sun shines on us
  
 All things in time 
 Is not hard to understand
 Denial is not an ally 
 It will never change your feelings
 Trees drop their leaves  
 Then have new beginnings
  
 We stand tall and are soothed by 
 Our genuine feelings for each other
 Never too proud
 We can accept small year-by-year changes
 Aware that our leaves may finally fall
 Maybe not now, but soon
 And then, our new beginnings
  
 But first we must face another truth
 Snow falls deep in December 
 It is no longer November and
 April is still months away
 We will make the best of this
 Isn't that what we always do?

 Stanski
 December  4, 2019 ^

 I am tired of 
 hearing Joe Namath 
 talk about getting 
 free meals from
 Medicare along 
 with free rides to
 appointments and 
 the rest of the
 long list of freebies
  
 Why wouldn’t 
 the powers to be
 pay someone a
 little more destitute 
 and believable 
 I liked Joe when 
 he led the Jets over
 the Colts.  
 That was 
 quite a feat.
 I remember 
 Emerson Booser 
 running the ball
  
 Now Mike Ditka is 
 doing the hawking
 He isn’t chewing gum
 like he did when 
 he was running 
 frantically on
 the sidelines of 
 the Chicago Bears
 What makes these 
 guys authorities?
 Maybe the way 
 they were so good 
 at spitting
  
 Stanski
 December 3, 2019 ^ 

  
 Wind roaring in darkened sky
 Waves pounding relentlessly
 People wonder what’s happening
 Moving with uncertainty
 Just that time of year
 A little before the hunt
  
 Adrenalin naturally flowing
 Taking the listless out of their funk
 I ponder and look for the beauty
 No one can take that away
 Some won’t waste their time on this
 Trying to save it for another day
  
 Besides they’re getting ready
 For the really big event
 The tracking, the hoping and the plotting
 The camping, the trailer or tent
 A few days pass; they seem the same
 No snow, no tracks and no deer
  
 They’re using quite a bit of time
 Playing cards and drinking beer
 More days go and then some snow
 They think they like the beauty
 Success of the hunt comes to them
 They march proudly as if it were duty
  
 Camp is broken; now homeward bound
 They’re the exceptional ones in the crowd
 Eagles are spotted, along with a bear
 In this land of enchantment they’re proud
 Arrive at home and strut their strut
 Like boys graduating from school
 They know all about nature’s beauty
 And love it, too.  They’re nobody’s fool
  
 Stanski
 December 2, 2019 ^
   

 I feel like I am on a Greyhound Bus
 Don’t know where I’m going
 I’m all mixed up, and down
 I know things get better
 Bo Jangles says drink Tennessee Whiskey
 Then he dances away and
 Doesn’t tell me why
  
 I have to figure these things out
 I’ll have a little talk with Jesus
 He’ll help me find my way
 I’m not blaming anyone
 I know how to look in the mirror
 But I’ll tell him what is going on
 Maybe things will be alright
  
 I woke up this morning and
 Looked out at 24 inches of snow
 Life for me seemed over
 How could I possibly handle this?
 I am not a loser, but this is hell
 Except it’s a whole lot colder
 I hope my Friend is with me
  
 My bus is going in circles
 No way to stop it seems
 I’m not putting the fault on anyone
 I should be big enough to
 Step up to the plate, but
 Every time I look out the window
 That snow seem deeper and heavy
  
 Someday my day will come
 I will rise to the occasion
 For now the bus seems the answer
 My seat is not all that comfortable
 And there is no room to lay down
 I hope I’ll find my destination
 But really, I’m not ready yet
  
 Stanski
 December 2, 2019 ^
  
   

  
  
 The artists are coming
 Hope they like split-pea soup
 We vacuum the floor
 Scrape up the goop
 Mighty nice folks
 Styles all their own
 Believe in themselves
 Like to be shown
  
 We will show them
 The least we can do
 They know our world
 And trust in us, too
 We have their work
 All over the place
 And the wonder
 How it is that we would grace
 Our wall with their art
  
 We were inspired by what
 They do.  It fits into our scheme
 Like a monkey belongs in a zoo
 They are impressed and take
 The time to look at every thing
 That will be fine.  They leave
 In a day or so and promise
 They will come back for more
 I think they liked the soup
  
  
 Stanski 
 December 2, 2019 ^ 

 The funeral party was small
 Only a few who scattered
 In different directions
 After the cemetery service
  
 This was usual in the Dakotas
 Rural areas with few farmers left
 They were broken people
 Afraid to leave for now
  
 So they stayed with hopes 
 For next the year
 And prayers for a mild winter
 Spring came and plowing began
  
 Fragrance from the earth was good
 Spirits were high, but things went wrong
 Drought put an end to wishes
 A funeral atmosphere without a body
  
 These were the planes; arid soil
 And desolation; isolation
 No more springs for this broken family
 Another house on the prairie doomed
  
 Time went on; newcomers arrived
 New times; machines; irrigation
 There would be success along with failure
 Life would unfold for better or worse
  
 Stanski
 November 22, 2019 ^