Why Poets Poem And Painters Paint - Rudux...

Why Poets Poem And Painters Paint - Rudux...

Aunt Felicia in Watercolor Circa 1976 - with help from Gemini

It could be some wonder under the stars,
It could be some ancient goddess from story jars,
It could be a sentimental sin,
But then,
Again,
I think it's just the thief named Time,
That endless robber of yours and mine,
The one who takes the frightened rabbits away,
Which we all become someday,
And because places lose their magic all too soon,
When the people who were there fly over the Moon,
And youth is wasted when it's taken away,
And friends and lovers deserve a lot more days,
Just like mothers and fathers and grands,
Great and more they take their stand,
But the river of time sweeps us all off of our feet,
And no one knows how to swim.

For Aunt Felicia...

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 03/12/2010

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.

Author's Note:

Aunt Felicia was my best friend and confidant when I was in high school, she's 11 months older than I am. In my sophomore year, she and my Grandmother moved away to Detroit. A year later, she was diagnosed with full-blown schizophrenia and institutionalized. My Grandmother refused to tell me for many years even WHERE she was at. She had a daughter that same year, who has grown up to be a wonderful woman with a stable family. She's really pulled herself up by her bootstraps. She also looks so much like her mother it's eerie sometimes. I haven't seen my Aunt since I was in high school. I've tried to call, but she hangs up the phone on anyone who calls there. Her daughter went to visit last year, she hadn't been near her mother since she was an infant. From what she tells me, it was as good a visit as one could have under the circumstances. Sometimes, especially now when her birthday is coming near, it really gets to me how tragic life can be.



*Update:Aunt Felicia passed away from cancer a few years ago. She is remembered with love by myself and her daughter Tiffiny to this day.

Original Photo

Original post: https://grymwyre.blogspot.com/2017/09/why-poets-poem-and-painters-paint.html

Words Of Choice...

The magic of an old-school blog.

It seems to me that "social" media has become anti-social media in many cases.

Algorithms came first, All the better to feed the corporate wolves dressing like sheep. Then came the invading hordes of Zombots, robotic catfish trying to make us all chase our tail. Now it's AI, be it AI bots, AI algorithms, or just AI throwing videos like Godzilla in a pillow fight with a feather cannon.

It's gotten to be ridiculous.

I miss the days of blogs written by humans, subscribed to by choice, and simple static banner ads I could actually read through.

Those things still exist, but they're hard to find unless you discover a means of punching through the AI results firewall of the geomind's zeitgeist.

It was a debacle when Google killed Feedburner in July of 2022.

However, I've discovered a replacement that lets me cultivate a channel that I control for incoming information: https://follow.it/ 

This is letting me build my own list of blog feeds. 

Not that the AI stuff isn't interesting, but I need to read humans too. Actual written-by humans for humans old-school blogs about people's passions and their lives.

Maybe families could create blog circles and share their links to replace what Farcebook used to be. It would be better than what we get now, especially with just a daily "newspaper" email.

This might just be an idea.

Thank you for reading.

Dan

--

Compassion is the greatest sign of Humanity.

True Wealth, And Reasons To Write:

 

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	8/13/2000 7:27:01 PM 10/1/2022 7:17:39 PM	934

True Wealth, And Reasons To Write:

Memories, times our heart glows in,
Memories, which our love grows in,
Moments, soft, holy, tender,
Magic, true magic to never surrender,
Seeing you standing in flowing velvet gown,
My heart so full I near break down,
Your eyes sparkle with reflections of a Christmas tree,
Or your look so distant as you reminisce of we,
Couple walking hand in hand,
Softly kissing when we stop and stand.
Two who had something sacred only we could share,
A tiny piece of forever carved out upon a dare,
Never knowing just how long,
Or what could make our hearts stay strong.
All things in time we lose,
Change inevitable, worn out shoes.
Favorite clothes that wear and tear,
Seasons past, fleeting and fair.

Memories.

It is memories, like these, which are the jewels of our lives,
decorating our hearts as the precious stones that bring sparkles
in a way that no cold gem ever can. These, we are allowed to take
with us when we fade into the pale gray mists of time, even as we
who write are blessed to be able to leave an echo of them behind
to stir the imaginations and warm the hearts of those who follow.
There can be nothing more priceless to own, nor so dear to ever lose.

What memories shall you leave behind you?

I look upon this world, so beautiful, and bemoan the shortness,
The brevity of our lives, fleeting instants upon the stage of life.
Many who are dear to me are passing or have gone. Others shall
be here long to share what remains. I never know which. None of us can.
It is because of the memories that you all have gifted me with so well,
That I will never be poor, except in count of time.
I will make the best of what I have, because that is how I
honor the memories of you all.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C)2000

Author's Comments

I just watched "Autumn In New York", the new movie in the theaters. It is a wonderful tale of romance and love, of love triumphant over fear and emptiness. Also, I received Mi Wha's reply to my poem about childhood memories I hold close. It seems to me that the reflections of these events have meaning, so I have written them down here, to share freely with you all.

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	8/13/2000 7:27:01 PM 10/1/2022 7:17:39 PM	934

Author	Email	Web
Total Comments: 2

Comments
Sue Allie	bttfly9@yahoo.com	http://www.geocities.com/Heartland/Garden/9843	8/13/2000 10:53:35 PM
Yes, memories are very special and we keep them alive by telling the tale to our kids who pass it down to their kids etc. By telling them to others we sometimes realize how all the more they are so extra special to us. You have a way with the words.
Janine Daniel	spinnys@hotmail.com	www.spinnys.com	8/21/2000 12:36:34 AM
You've made my life richer by sharing your memories and now that they are instilled in my mind they become my memories too. Do you understand what I mean? Thanks Dan for all the memories... *S*

Superior Paddle-Wheeler...

 

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	8/13/2000 1:16:32 PM 9/26/2022 8:32:43 AM	1011

Superior Paddle-Wheeler

When I was just a little tyke,
Off to Grandma & Grandpa's we would hike,
Even though it was way up north,
We would dare to sally forth.

Pine trees line the highway in the summer sun countlessly.

Water was every where, lakes, streams, ponds.
Road-side bill boards like magic wands,
Attract tourists from the road in hunger,
"Eat now, you're not getting any younger!"

God's Country, Northern Wisconsin, The U.P.

Pulling into Grandma Varden's drive,
Everything would come alive.
Hugs and smiles all around,
Thankful for every time we found,

Our way back here.

Morning, breakfast cooking on the wood stove,
Pack us up and off we drove.
The giant indian stands downtown at 120 feet,
And Copper Falls, well they can't be beat.

Woods and water, shadows dance in summer breezes.

Walking trails under trees, wooden walkways,
We could soak this up for days.
Further north, it was time to go,
We hit the beach at Lake Superior, you know.

Endless water, white frothed waves rolling.

Smooth round stones upon the beach,
Skipping them as far as we could reach,
The time would come when Grandpa was the star,
He'd made wooden paddle boats, would they go far?

Table saws, sawdust, rubber bands.

The garage down the steepest hill,
Created memories that still thrill.
Tiny boats of hope and wood,
Fun times that were truly good.

Keith H. and I were going to race!

Waters of Superior are cold under a sixties summer sun.

Memories are not.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C)2000

Author's Comments

When I was very, very young, we would all pile into the car and head to Ironwood, MI. My Grandparents lived in the old mining town, Stories of the old copper & iron mines caving in crept around. The wood stove in the kitchen evoked Spells crafted of Magic Grandma Cooking Smells,
And my Grandfather would head out down the hill to the garage and make little wooden paddle boats
powered with rubber bands. We would all climb the feet of the giant towering statue of ?Squantoe?
at the park in town. The following day, we would fill the cars and go off to Copper Falls, followed by Lake Superior. The waters of Superior are endless seeming, A small ocean of fresh water, and cold. Smooth stones made up the beach. My hair was so blond then as to be near white. My uncle Keith H., adopted, a year younger than I. Wading with rolled up pants in little jeans, sunshine, paddle boat races, picnics, smiles. It seems like a magical bygone Heaven now. Like a cameo faded into my mind...

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	8/13/2000 1:16:32 PM 9/26/2022 8:32:43 AM	1011

Comments
Daniel A. Stafford			8/13/2000 1:44:08 PM
Copper Falls Park info: ************************************** Copper Falls State Park Ancient lava flows, deep gorges and spectacular waterfalls make Copper Falls one of Wisconsin's most scenic parks. Stone buildings from the 1930s Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) add a special charm. 2,676 acres. Features 55 campsites, 13 electric sites, winter camping, showers, a dumping station, backpack camping, handicap-accessible picnic area and campsites, concessions, seasonal naturalist programs, lookout tower, vistas, shoreline with marked beach area, canoeing, boating, fishing, 1.7 miles of nature trails, 7 miles of hiking trails, 7 miles of off-road bicycle trails, 13.7 miles of cross- country ski trails. Call 715-274-5123.  On SR 169, 2 miles N of the intersection of SR 169 and SR 13/77, 4 miles N of Mellen, Ashland County.
Janine Daniel	spinnys@hotmail.com	www.spinnys.com	8/21/2000 2:06:01 AM
Again you've shared your memories with me, and now I feel like I've been there too. What a wonderful childhood you had. I barely knew my grandparents. Thanks Dan...*S*

Missing Felicia...

 

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	8/10/2000 5:46:09 AM 9/28/2022 4:19:38 AM	871

Missing Felicia

Aunt Felicia, friend and confidant,
Raven hair, tall slender good looks,
What more could you want?
Nephew who listens to your ideas, not books.

Teenage years, so uncertain who to be.

There were things you told me then,
No, I'll never forget when,
I always listened, to your voice,
Because I trusted in that choice.

Could you sing Rose Garden for me again?

You friend Carol my not-so-secret crush,
And the things you blatantly said made a freshman blush,
Moonlight bike ride along the beach,
Certainty just a bit out of reach.

Where, oh where could you be?

Those younger days haunt me now,
Because it's clear that I don't know how,
To find you or to come near,
You're hiding in the pictures and the voices that you hear.

Tiffiny looks so like you I can hardly believe my own eyes.

I heard California is the place for you,
But since Grandma died, I wonder if that's so true.
Your daughter a young woman now,
It's been so many years,

But you are one of the voices, that I'll always hear.

I miss you.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C)08/10/2000

By: Daniel A. Stafford

Author's Comments

My Aunt Felicia. She was like a mix between teacher and confidant.
One year older than me, and we used to spend hours talking late
into the night one summer that she came to stay. We were riding my
bike down past the beach when a dog chased us, laughing home.
All I know now is that she succumbed to her battle with
schizophrenia and is in a home somewhere in California.
It's been since I was in high school that I last saw her. Her daughter
Tiffiny is now just a bit older than she was then and her mother's spitting
image, very near. (Update 2022: Aunt Felicia passed away several years ago. She will never be forgotten.)

	Library Home
Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	8/10/2000 5:46:09 AM 9/28/2022 4:19:38 AM	871

Hand Trim The Grass...

 

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	8/9/2000 9:41:13 PM 9/25/2022 6:46:39 AM	985

Hand Trim The Grass

Just a childhood memory,
From when I was maybe two or three,
A place Noni & Nono took me to see,
A gray headstone in the cemetery.

Hand shears snip-snipping in the shade and sunshine.

Flowers and memories that weren't mine,
Of someone that time had left behind,
My grandmother's mother resides above,
Maybe one that time had left, but not love.

I doubt I could find it now, except in my mind.

Just an adulthood memory,
Driving past the catholic school where I used to be,
In the cemetery a low reddish stone with letters,
Two I love free of life's fetters,

Gino and Sadie Nofri say the letters.

I can't read the numbers to the right with dry eyes,
But over there Uncle Ross resides,
Every time I drive by,
I can't help looking out of the corner of my eye.

I never will say good bye.

God trims the grass, too.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C)2000



By: Daniel A. Stafford

Author's Comments

When I was a child, my grandparents would go to the cemetery once a week in the summer
to trim my great grand mother's grave and put up flowers. I remember helping with the hand
trimmers, those little grass shears. Their grave is in another cemetery, just inside the fence off the
street, right next to where I used to go to school. My brother's house is two blocks away from them
and I am always right next to them in my heart.

	Library Home
Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	8/9/2000 9:41:13 PM 9/25/2022 6:46:39 AM	985

All The Stars That Shined...

All The Stars That Shined...




Sometimes the first time you really see someone is long after they've gone,
And while the leaves are twisting colors on the branch,
That's a beautiful time to sing to your ghosts,
So we have a dear old cousin who likes to pray that way,
And now I've finally seen Gramma for herself.

Wish it was long ago,
So I could let her know,
Gramma Marion and Auntie Birdene,
Long gone but never forgotten,
One I thought I knew,
One I don't recall I ever met.

Time is like that,
It warps your connections,
So it twists the branches and twigs,
Yet as the frost gathers in your breath,
You learn and grow and come to know,
All the stars that shined.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 09/21/2011

Author's note:
Auntie Birdene (left) & Gramma Marion (right), we miss you both, and we'll always remember.
Don't they look like a couple of movie stars from back in the day?

Last Edit: Sep 22, 2011 at 12:39am by AquarianM

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
---------------------------------------
All of my published poetry is at:
www.lulu.com/spotlight/coloringbookforallages

All Sweetness And Light...

Post by AquarianM on Dec 3, 2011 at 6:03am

All Sweetness And Light...
All those sayings about sugar and spice,
And everything nice,
I guess a grandparent said that,
One day when it was a good day,
A day like yesterday,
All innocence and a smile,
Having a granddaughter is like that,
Happy and bright,
All sweetness and light.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 12/03/2011

Note: For our Granddaughter Natalie Barry.

Natalie having fun at Chuck E. Cheese's:
youtu.be/CgfHEgMl_SQ

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
---------------------------------------
All of my published poetry is at:
www.lulu.com/spotlight/coloringbookforallages

The Shores of Forever...

Post by AquarianM on Feb 5, 2006 at 10:44pm

The Shores of Forever...



The winds and waves,
Only together make the sands,
You stand upon walking,
The shores of life are long,
May you together create,
Daily the love you stand upon,
The shores of forever to reach.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
©1/07/2006

Author's Comments:
For Dan & Ola.

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
---------------------------------------
All of my published poetry is at:
www.lulu.com/spotlight/coloringbookforallages

Why Poets Poem And Painters Paint...

Post by AquarianM on Mar 12, 2010 at 1:31am

Why Poets Poem And Painters Paint...

It could be some wonder under the stars,
It could be some ancient goddess from story jars,
It could be a sentimental sin,
But then,
Again,
I think it's just the thief named Time,
That endless robber of yours and mine,
The one who takes the frightened rabbits away,
Which we all become someday,
And because places lose their magic all too soon,
When the people who were there fly over the Moon,
And youth is wasted when it's taken away,
And friends and lovers deserve a lot more days,
Just like mothers and fathers and grands,
Great and more they take their stand,
But the river of time sweeps us all off of our feet,
And no one knows how to swim.



For Aunt Felicia...

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 03/12/2010

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.

Author's Note:

Aunt Felicia was my best friend and confidant when I was in high school, she's 11 months older than I am. In my sophomore year, she and my Grandmother moved away to Detroit. A year later, she was diagnosed with full-blown schizophrenia and institutionalized. My Grandmother refused to tell me for many years even WHERE she was at. She had a daughter that same year, who has grown up to be a wonderful woman with a stable family. She's really pulled herself up by her bootstraps. She also looks so much like her mother it's eerie sometimes. I haven't seen my Aunt since I was in high school. I've tried to call, but she hangs up the phone on anyone who calls there. Her daughter went to visit last year, she hadn't been near her mother since she was an infant. From what she tells me, it was as good a visit as one could have under the circumstances. Sometimes, especially now when her birthday is coming near, it really gets to me how tragic life can be.



*Update:Aunt Felicia passed away from cancer a few years ago. She is remembered with love by myself and her daughter Tiffiny to this day.

Dan

Modern posting: https://grymwyre.blogspot.com/2026/03/why-poets-poem-and-painters-paint-rudux.html

A Highly-Charged Particle...

A Highly-Charged Particle...

The stress of the pennies,
They don't rain from Heaven.

A bucket of marital bliss,
Wrapped in a dollar-sign bow.

The wires buzz and hum.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 07/08/2017

Rembrandt Sleeping, poem #24

Good Night Maine Coon...

Good Night Maine Coon...

Orange ball of purring,
Fuzzy good-night.

A heart the size of California,
My buddy Corona.

Who needs words,
When you can head-butt and purr?

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 07-06-2017

The Shadow Disaster...

The Shadow Disaster...

The latest and the greatest,
An ease of discomforted mind,
Convenience that beats the clock,
Perhaps the greatest disaster to afflict Humanity.

How many Grandmothers' recipes lost?
The skill of splitting wood,
Reading the habits of squirrel and wolf come Autumn,
How to cook ebelskives and forest mushrooms,
To know the breath of Winter and survive?

If the grid died,
Would we?

Will we ever know the glory of our ancestors' dishes,
Feel the breath of their spirits breathing the kindling of our hearts?

Thousands upon thousands of years these treasures took,
The stories and the marvels,
The handicrafts and the ken of seasons,
All to be oiled on a slide to oblivion,
For the sake of ease and comfort.

I wonder if I am the last,
To ever taste or feel the heart and soul of the past.

Winter comes,
But in a hundred years,
Who will know the meaning of cold,
Or white flight upon the winds?

Jack Frost may die,
So also millennia that ride His frozen back.

Come,
Ride the toboggan into nothing,
Eating the last taste of our ancestors' dust.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 11/20/2016

The Goat Is Dead!

The Goat Is Dead!

I missed the night of Hailey's Comet,

Cloudy skies,

Was working instead.

I was asleep,

Last time the Eagles played,

No time off I was home in bed.

I've never seen,

The Pyramids of Egypt,

No trail to that ancient dusty land.

Never saw,

The space shuttle landing,

Not a single rocket take off.

But I was there,

Yes I was watching,

The night we learned the Billy Goat was dead.

The last time,

They couldn't announce it,

radio hadn't been invented yet.

Six-to-six,

In game seven,

Bottom of the ninth it went to ten.

Got rained out,

The tarp was over the field,

It dried up and on they played.

I was there,
Yes I was watching,
The night we learned the Billy Goat was dead.

2016,

The Cubs won the Series,

First time since 1908.

I missed the night of Hailey's Comet,
Cloudy skies,
Was working instead.

I was asleep,
Last time the Eagles played,
No time off I was home in bed.

I've never seen,
The Pyramids of Egypt,
No trail to that ancient dusty land.

Never saw,
The space shuttle landing,
Not a single rocket take off.

But I was there,
Yes I was watching,
The night we learned the Billy Goat was dead.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

(C) 11-03-2016

Author's note:

The Billy Goat refers to a supposed curse on the Chicago Cubs imposed after they wouldn't allow the owner of the famous Billy Goat Tavern to bring his mascot on the field at Wrigley. This one is for you, Lenny "Pops" and Uncle John O'Hara - they waited their entire lives for the Cubs to win the series and missed it by two years. They passed within two weeks of each other in 2014.

The Goat Is Dead!

The Goat Is Dead!

I missed the night of Hailey's Comet,

Cloudy skies,

Was working instead.

I was asleep,

Last time the Eagles played,

No time off I was home in bed.

I've never seen,

The Pyramids of Egypt,

No trail to that ancient dusty land.

Never saw,

The space shuttle landing,

Not a single rocket take off.

But I was there,

Yes I was watching,

The night we learned the Billy Goat was dead.

The last time,

They couldn't announce it,

radio hadn't been invented yet.

Six-to-six,

In game seven,

Bottom of the ninth it went to ten.

Got rained out,

The tarp was over the field,

It dried up and on they played.

I was there,
Yes I was watching,
The night we learned the Billy Goat was dead.

2016,

The Cubs won the Series,

First time since 1908.

I missed the night of Hailey's Comet,
Cloudy skies,
Was working instead.

I was asleep,
Last time the Eagles played,
No time off I was home in bed.

I've never seen,
The Pyramids of Egypt,
No trail to that ancient dusty land.

Never saw,
The space shuttle landing,
Not a single rocket take off.

But I was there,
Yes I was watching,
The night we learned the Billy Goat was dead.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

(C) 11-03-2016

Author's note:

The Billy Goat refers to a supposed curse on the Chicago Cubs imposed after they wouldn't allow the owner of the famous Billy Goat Tavern to bring his mascot on the field at Wrigley. This one is for you, Lenny "Pops" and Uncle John O'Hara - they waited their entire lives for the Cubs to win the series and missed it by two years. They passed within two weeks of each other in 2014.