A Few Old Friends…

Post by AquarianM on Oct 22, 2008 at 2:07am

A Few Old Friends…

Those simple possessions we live with every day,
Things close and dear to us which can't be replaced,
Anachronisms from the time they were made,
Lose one - shopping for a replacement is heart-breaking.
A Leatherman tool worn on my hip for fourteen years,
The case's belt loop breaks unbeknownst,
As familiar as the way you comb your hair it was,
Gone in a silent act of time's curse,
I bought a new one - larger and clumsier but more capable.

A pair of shoes two years old,
A perfect fit on your feet,
Shined to a gleaming polish by my own hand,
A hundred hours of daily care,
The stitching pops between leather and sole,
No longer in "style" but still my perfect style,
Their replacements leave me less than pleased,
Fake leather you can't even polish,
Totally the wrong look and feel,
Serviceable and durable,
Regardless of size a less-than-perfect fit.

A Zippo lighter I keep in a leather pouch on my belt,
Brass encased in leather,
The patterns of years' tarnish like the back of my own knuckles,
Familiar and coordinated,
Flickable with one finger,
Not lost but irreplaceable.

It's those little things that we use every day that make our lives more defined and comfortable.

Don't even get me on the subject of people close to us.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

© 10/22/2008

On The Brink...

Post by AquarianM on Nov 3, 2008 at 11:34pm

On The Brink...

A new dawn,
A new day,
Or just craziness,
Come out to play,
They're crazy in the streets,
I'm hiding in my bed,
It's a date with history,
Be it blue or red,
Dunder blunder and wonder,
The raven caws and claws,
Thumping beating screaming might be healing,
In a crone-eyed Fate's view the Norns are weaving,
Sisters can you spare a time?

It's voting day again.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 11/04/2008

Jack Space And The Jazzcid Rock-it Sax Galaxy...

Post by AquarianM on Nov 22, 2008 at 4:08pm

Jack Space And The Jazzcid Rock-it Sax Galaxy...

Jack Space was going to race,
Twice round the big Blue Moon,
'Twas a Christmas in Outer Space,
All stars were like lighted jewels.

Jack was nimble until he sat on a thimble,
Which was really an alien space suit,
He shot past Andromeda and spun on a gymbal,
Grabbing his sax made of brass he blew his horn toot-toot.

The sound was round and flew off the ground,
All aliens were fuzzy and green for the chase,
Jack got his ray gun and kept on playin' to be found,
But the green-eyed monster was too fast and they wound up in hyper space.

Next I knew the coop he flew,
Playing inside his tin can,
I stumbled and fell and tied my shoe true,
As the critics all gave Jack the pan.

Our eyes were alive as the telescopes cried,
"A galaxy shaped like a sax - I've never lied!"

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 11/22/2008

www.archive.org/download/JazzcidRock-itSax/Jazzcid-Rock-it-Sax.mp3

The Flying Saucer Era...

The Flying Saucer Era...

I look up at the night,

Always searching.

I'll never believe in that splendor being empty.

Arrogance doesn't become us.

I want to believe.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

© 07/16/2017

"Rembrandt Sleeping..." Poem #30

 

 

Fortitude...

Post by AquarianM on Dec 8, 2008 at 6:20pm

Fortitude...

It ain't over 'til it's over, can't always count on roses n' clover,
Strength is making it through the long school,
And still being what's at the heart of you.

Stars shine on forever - just moments for us,
Everything we do with them is all we have,
So joy had best be inside out - if not it lacks contagion,
Just when those you love need it most.

Ain't nothin' 'bout a movie anywhere but inside a head,
Out here real is the deal we all seal, choiceless but for the approach.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 12/07/2008

Mars Phoenix Syndrome...

Post by AquarianM on Dec 17, 2008 at 2:18am

Mars Phoenix Syndrome...

The board has gone dark,
All circuits silent,
Alone on Mars in cold red sand,
The poetry of endings all that’s left to write,
I am the ghost,
The cipher,
The living epitaph of a dream,
Alone on a sojourn through the universe,
My companions' signals have faded out of reception,
Yet I coast on,
Across intersoular space,
Dreaming there’s a Universe to hear.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 12/17/2008

Author’s Note:
Requiem for Mystic Muse poetry board – it seems I am the last of the last.
mysticmuse.proboards17.com/index.cgi

Last Light In The Window...

Post by AquarianM on Dec 17, 2008 at 1:27pm

Last Light In The Window...

You'll find me here,
Keeping the house just warm enough,
Sheets tucked over the furniture,
One lamp in the window over the foyer,
Heart aglow and whispering alone,
Until you all come home.

My Taliesin this shall be.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 12/17/2008

The Bean Diet...

The Bean Diet...

Bean burritos,
Three kinds,
Only a buck forty-nine.

Red beans and rice,
Maybe an apple,
Would be nice.

Wallet may be thin,
Yet somehow,
We'll win.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 07/15/2017

"Rembrandt Sleeping..." Poem #29

Do The Christmas Slide...

Post by AquarianM on Dec 25, 2008 at 9:20am

Do The Christmas Slide...

Hey,
Cold and windy white,
Sunshine on three degrees for a minute,
Next it's sleet and freezing rain,
Drive baby drive,
A holiday party and lots of cheer,
Maybe there's a hotel room close by,
Wait - reindeer express better yet,
Slip on home with a twinkle in your eyes,
Say goodnight and off to rest,
Santa's coming to give you all the best,
You made it through the Christmas slide,
With a little joy left over.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 12/25/2008

Sartia's Halo Polish...

Sartia's Halo Polish...

Even halos get dulled,
Centuries of flights in all weather,
Missions of mercy and constant scenes of agony,
The acid in an angel's tears pits even the best materials,
And the corrosion of the soul facing death,
Time after time after time,
Followed by the healing expansion of spirit,
The one you get in the joy of a miracle delivered,
The flowery scent of tears of joy,
When a mother sees her child cry away near death,
Surviving with no longer fevered little curls,
Still damp with the sweat of fate,
Sartia's hands have always been brave,
As she scrubs the crags of woe from their halos,
As each touch brings a flash of the visions,
The sight of what the Heavenly host have borne,
As Sartia rinses them with martyrs' blood,
And tears of requited love,
Under God's golden moonlight,
In her little garden world of pale roses,
Her blue eyes are ancient,
And her soft face is ever young,
As the shaken hug her in mutual comfort,
Their halos returned after each brief respite,
Their crushing weight for a time lifted,
She cries but softly in her state of gentle grace.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 12/18/2001


From Poetic Constellations:
Jan Awards this ROTD 11/23/11

Into The Void…

Post by AquarianM on Nov 22, 2008 at 4:05pm

Into The Void…

I tumbled in the sea like stones and glass and shells,
Turning to sand at the shoreline,
Eaten away millimeter by inch,
Lost and out of control,
Thought that I'd been swimming.

There is no fighting the current,
The chop of a charcoal grey sky whipping water,
There is no golden goose,
There is only everyone around me swimming,
Afraid to stretch out a hand.

In the darkness of the beach the combers run in,
Silvered by the moon,
Boiling and dangerous - beautiful as time,
Entirely as deep as endless space,
What lives under the space between our ears.

Some say they have the Universe in their hip pocket,
But they haven't spent a single day awake,
Nor ever seen the dawn rise in colored fire,
Bejeweled only to fade in an hour,
Like the shape of a cloud.

I put reed to lips and play and play,
The pearl keys and brass are fickle,
Cool to the touch like stone and stubborn,
Yet inch by inch I master it,
Until I swim away.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 11/22/2008

www.archive.org/download/IntoTheVoid/Into-The-Void.mp3

Midnight Moo...

Midnight Moo...

A simple Trade Joe's delight,
Requires the cows to come home,
Full of chocolate dreams.

I dance to the 'fridge,
Beaming...

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 07/14/2017

"Rembrandt Sleeping..." Poem # 28

Author's note:
I love this stuff for making chocolate milk before bed, but have it only very rarely.

Green Leaf Gals Fall...

Post by AquarianM on Mar 20, 2008 at 10:06am

Green Leaf Gals Fall...



Steps and stairs,
A house number by heart,
Cool breath,
Miss you, puppy dog.

So long...

Leaves out of sight,
Never out of mind,
All about the yard,
Were in neat piles raked.

Sign of a season...

A cameo moment,
Camera-captured forever,
"Who, me?"
"Not I wags the dog."

A smile and whistle for such innocence...

Scattered gold and brown,
Wind-blown in their time,
Rustles and frost long faded,
Like clouds in the sky.

They remember the leaves even still.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford - poem, Prahl family photo.
© 03/15/2008

Dusty Old Letters From Tesla...

Dusty Old Letters From Tesla...

You can see the genius in the handwriting,
Meticulously cluttered,
Like an attic closet lost for a century.

The dry must is blown off the yellowed envelopes,
All eyes widen with delight.

Back in the day,
It was known as "correspondence,"
Hand-written and soul-bared.

The wonders of the Universe,
Revealed,
Wax seals that had partly re-stuck,
Grudgingly giving up their sleeping secrets.

It was all tales of love,
Love with a mystical beauty un-bound by our petty rules,
Cosmos was her name.

Nicola gave us an adoring view under her skirts.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 07/11/2017

Rembrandt Sleeping, poem #26

Spindle...

Spindle...

Around,
The creation of sound,
Mostly bright colors,
Adapting to the time.

In a digital world,
Analog sounds sweet.

What lasts is what tells,
Long after the last album sells.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 07/12/2017

"Rembrandt Sleeping..." poem #27

Author's note:
If ever I am wealthy enough, I will buy a beautiful old console stereo, put in a top-of-the-line turntable and sound system, one that glows like stereos used to, and gently, reverently, set needle to vinyl...

It's A Tea-cup Universe...

Post by AquarianM on Mar 30, 2008 at 10:19pm

It's A Tea-cup Universe...

An ancient bush reigns,
Upon the misted hills of China,
Stone trails nearly forgotten,
Walking a way of antiquity.

Can you taste the world or the sky?

Ten days of weather in a basket of leaves and buds,
How high a bush sits on the hill,
What lies far beneath our feet,
How did hands move - long or fast or gentle?

A family art as fine as butterfly wing breezes.

Everything modern can move mountains,
Dead dirt and dull uniforms,
Machine-printed cheap art for the masses,
Careless rush of rough touch.

Stubborn - the seeker of ancient heart.

Masterworks revived from the crush,
Uniqueness in a land of conformity,
Living tradition tied to nature,
Poetry in cupped hands and scent.

Taste it - it's a tea-cup universe that awaits.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 03/31/2008

Upon watching the documentary film "All In This Tea," I was touched by the sheer poetic beauty of the ancient hills of China, covered in fields of tea bushes. For centuries, master tea makers have captured the nuances of location, weather, tradition, soil, and water in small cups, allowing them to pass one's lips as liquid art. Every detail of environment is captured in each cup, every scrap of a bundle of tea's history blends with the water that makes it, and tells an intricate story in flavor to those who may listen.

Nearly overpowered and under threat of extinction by vast commercialization in the form of mass tea exporters, this was feared a dying art. Through the efforts of a man from the West who knew the true flavor of honestly authentic hand-made teas, a hole was pushed through the wall. A new way opened up for the art to survive, and thrive.

From the factories to history to the smallest hand-crafted details and most ornate ceremonies, this is the visual poetry of tea's truth, and how it is both coming home to China and appearing in America. As a cup of tea warms the hands, "All In This Tea" warms the heart, with knowledge and hope.

See it on the Sundance Channel Tuesday, April 29th at 9:35 pm Eastern and Pacific.

Dan Stafford
Publisher - The Great Lakes Zephyr - Wind Energy & Hydrogen Journal
www.whizzyrds.com/Windblog.html

www.sundancechannel.com/

www.allinthistea.com/

Throw-Away People...

Throw-Away People...

Out to pasture young,
Fifty isn't too old,
Nor fifty-five.

When people are just a ledger entry,
In a world of "throw-away..."

Society is insane.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 07/09/2017

"Rembrandt Sleeping," Poem # 25

If A Raindrop Had Eyes...

Post by AquarianM on Mar 28, 2008 at 9:13pm

If A Raindrop Had Eyes...

Floating in a sea of breezes,
Heated, excited, expanded,
The sky is pulling and I fly from blue to nearly black.

Chilled through I shrink,
Speeding toward a mountain top,
Sparkling like a jewel in a sea of stars.

Resting in windy frozen silence,
Contemplating stars and sunshine,
A crack - and my congregation bullets down-slope.

Warming we slither down in congregation,
Picking up toys to play with,
Rocks and pebbles and sticks and paper and molecules.

We sweep all before us,
Anything lying or thrown in our path,
Pills and dead weeds and the things that killed them.

Muddy we sweep into the sea,
Carrying it all,
And some we even keep when we expand up.

Some day soon you'll drink me - and all that I carry.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 03/28/2008

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

The Great Yuku...

Post by AquarianM on Apr 5, 2008 at 5:23am

The Great Yuku...

Once there was a dragon,
Creature of lightning flashes and sparks,
Master of a sea of dreams,
Subject fishes flying low over the waves,
Dropping poetry from their teeth in tiny splashes.

Rainbows and memories are the treasures in the dragon lair,
Missing posts fought out by thieving gremlins,
Who have no dreams of their own.

I sat in a cigar chair smoking,
The Dragon saw me as a child-god,
Twisted and spinning in the mists of real-time,
A mystery of zen-karma lost in emotional currents,
Trying to save a world from its own blindness,
Bearing nothing but a pen and notebook.

I let free a puff of smoke,
To the Dragon's great delight,
Flipped the ash from my cigar,
Jotted down a few lines,
Turned into a zeppelin fish,
Dreaming loudly,
I raced out over the sea.



AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 04/05/2008

Dry...

Dry...

In the midst of nothing,
Sleep is calling,
The well has nothing,
No Muse to move me.

Set the alarm and drift,
Nothing.

So that was last night...

AquarianM

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

Rembrandt Sleeping, poem # 23

Sweetheart Moon...

Post by AquarianM on Apr 23, 2008 at 11:15pm

Sweetheart Moon...

Sweetheart moon,
Over you,
Shining bright,
Silver light,
Shining down,
On your hair,
Your lovely gown.

Strolling the beach,
Aside the sea,
Waves that roar,
Endlessly,
Hand in hand,
As we move,
All the way.

Starlight jewels,
Abed the ink of night,
Warm winds,
Caress my sighs,
Heart afire,
Over you,
Timeless tale,
We shall share.

Love me now,
Hold on tight,
Forever walk,
The sands of night,
My sweet Love,
My heart's delight,
Forever found,
Forever right.

Sweetheart moon,
Over you,
Shining bright,
Silver light,
Shining down,
On your hair,
Your lovely gown.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 04/24/2008

The Legend Of Dac…

Post by AquarianM on May 1, 2008 at 2:27am

The Legend Of Dac…

$15.00 is a small loan,
Even in 1982,
A war-weary collections department,
Frustrated after five years failing,
Seeing through to never-land,
Outburst arisen.

The party at Mom’s that night,
Jokes and a few beers,
One more time I ask,
“Return me mine, Terry.”

Refusal in my own home?

Leave then!

The crowd intrigued,
Drama before dawn,
Arguing back and forth,
“Hand it over or flee the place!”

“No! Two hamburgers on Tuesday!”

“Five years of Tuesdays!
Pay up or get out!”

“No! Two hamburgers on Tuesday!”

“F-you, Terrydactyl !”

Dac for life – worth every penny,
His beak still writ large,
As per the nom de plume.

They still roll on the floor just to think it,
As time stops for a belly roll once more.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 03/01/2008

At The Heart Of The Dream...

Post by AquarianM on May 18, 2008 at 10:11pm

At The Heart Of The Dream...

I've heard what life is,
Slow,
Conceptualized,
Approximated,
Rendered,
Interpreted,
Dreamed,
Acted,
Felt.

Dreamers,
Change your dreams,
Take the reigns of the nightmare,
Ride for gentle pastures,
Recognize life wherever it is,
Before every breath in the world is stilled.

Outside the dream is inside the dream,
If we dream it right we survive,
If we dream it better we thrive,
If we dream it best,
Love is all we really ever needed.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 05/19/2008

www.pachamama.org/

Our Hands...

Post by AquarianM on Mar 6, 2008 at 4:33am

Our Hands...

A hammer is light,
Swinging it flashes,
Nails driven quicksilver,
Houses or crosses,
In our hands.

Fish hooks and old leather,
Falling coconuts adrift,
Dying palms in a rising sea,
A plastic swirl bigger than the USA,
All at our hands.

A garden of summer delights,
Picnic for the hungry,
By the lazy riverside,
Flying cottonwood seed,
Prepared and tended by our hands.

Double edges need no swords.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 03/06/2008

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

Ducking The Poison Pen...

Post by AquarianM on May 15, 2008 at 9:40pm

Ducking The Poison Pen...

Rage,
Fire,
Fury,
Frustration higher than Everest.

I can no longer climb that Mount,
It's peak is lost to my failing and misted sight,
As the air is vacuumed from my lungs,
Horror strikes.

I have tried to burn no pages,
To leave only kind words,
But my ink is ablaze in green flame and the well overflowing.

This unholy house is consuming me,
Just as America is burning,
Smoldering just out of sight,
I know I am but one of millions.

What will it take before the rule of compassion surpasses the lie of law?

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 05/15/2008

Burning For The Lie...

Post by AquarianM on May 27, 2008 at 2:13am

Burning For The Lie...

Have you ever had your dream broken,
Hope left completely unspoken,
Found you had no chance,
To go another round of the pin-head dance,
Lost your way wandering in a trance,
Nothing left to say,
Just another day,
Burning for the lie?

No place to call home,
Chips crashed all alone,
All for number one brings on the fall,
'Cause no one's ever for us all,
The system is completely broken,
Each of us made just a token,
Just another way,
Of burning for the lie.

Tell me to work hard,
For my just reward,
But it all rolls uphill,
Never our dreams fulfilled,
I'm shaken and I'm chilled,
It's a horse-sized bitter pill,
All the edges fray,
Burning for the lie.

My belief is somewhere,
Under the floorboards the bank is going to own.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 05/27/2008

No Wasted Moments...

No Wasted Moments...

If sleep is a necessity,
It is also an enemy.

While I love dreams,
There is a limit I face.

Only so many hours,
Only so many days,
Years on this Earth,
Those are always counted.

If only dreams were instant...

---Or lives endless.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 07-05-2017

"Rembrandt Sleeping," poem # 21

Luminaries...

Post by AquarianM on Jun 17, 2008 at 7:03am

Luminaries...


June is rampant lush in the Midwest,
Utter green in every-other-day rain and heat,
Sun hazed down upon us like clock hands noon,
The hay is tall enough to mow before half past,
Birds flutter and sing about all busy.

I sit in my lawn chair,
Reading of kime and art,
Slow with the scent of fine cigar and kona coffee,
Light falling like a slow drain as orange and indigo fly up,
And there over the fence,
The first rulers of summer come out,
Right where low grass meets hay.

Yellow-green flashes in twilight always make a child of me –

Delighted.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 06/17/2008

(*Kime – the complete focus of attention, intention, and action as a Karate move is executed correctly.)

Sparklers...

Post by AquarianM on Jul 6, 2011 at 3:21am

Sparklers...

www.archive.org/download/Sparklers_736/Sparklers.mp3

Sparklers,

Fire in the sky,

Fourth of July,

Let the bombs die,

Just try,

Sparklers,
Firecrackers,
Hot celebration,
Of the nation,
Hyper-inflation,
This is our space,

Sparklers,

Fire in the sky,

See the pretty colors,

Falling all around,

Flutter and spark,

In the dark,

Hot Summer,

Hot love,

Sparklers,

Keep it bright,

In the night,

Independence,

Full of remembrance,

Sparklers,

Color in the dark,

I love this freedom,

Let's love this spark,

Sparklers,

Beautiful tonight.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 07/26/2008 - music & lyrics

Last Edit: Jul 6, 2011 at 3:28am 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

This River I Run...

Post by AquarianM on Jul 2, 2008 at 8:13am

This River I Run...

There's a place I come from,
That little midwestern town by the river,
I can never escape it's call,
No matter how far I go,
Trees green,
Water near the same,
Limestone and dams,
The festivals of summer,
A glimpse of peace crosses my face as afternoon sunshine,
As the boat cruises down the Rock,
I feel at home,
Where I know in my bones,
This place has never left my blood,
In spite of pains,
In spite of travels,
In spite of gains,
This river I run is at the root of me,
These banks hallowed ground,
My childhood screams it's name,
My family's fate has long been surrounded by it,
The seeming languid waters deceptive in their power,
My grandmother and grandfather,
Mother and father,
Brothers, sisters,
Cousins, aunts, uncles,
Near all have watched this water run by,
And timeless times I remember,
As lives flow slowly by,
Their seeming languid pace deceptive in their power,
And I thank God for moments most would call me fool for,
To cherish this small, unknown, struggling town,
This place so often ridiculed,
But as they often say here,
Beloit Wisconsin calls you,
One can leave,
But in some fashion,
Everyone winds up coming back,
Even if just in memory of times loved or hated.
Happy as I am,
I miss the river I run.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 07/16/2001


Beloit & Janesville, WI underwater, Rock River still rising...

Wish I could go up & help sandbag or something - it's really bad. Beloit is my home town for those who don't know, and Janesville is right next to it.

www.gazettextra.com/photos/galleries/gazette-staff-flooding-photos/

www.beloitdailynews.com/shared-content/gallery/?galleryid=1&gallery_page=0&album_page=0&albumid=1&mediaid=82

Sparklers...

Sparklers...

http://www.archive.org/download/Sparklers_736/Sparklers.mp3

Sparklers,

Fire in the sky,

Fourth of July,

Let the bombs die,

Just try,

Sparklers,
Firecrackers,
Hot celebration,
Of the nation,
Hyper-inflation,
This is our space,

Sparklers,

Fire in the sky,

See the pretty colors,

Falling all around,

Flutter and spark,

In the dark,

Hot Summer,

Hot love,

Sparklers,

Keep it bright,

In the night,

Independence,

Full of remembrance,

Sparklers,

Color in the dark,

I love this freedom,

Let's love this spark,

Sparklers,

Beautiful tonight.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 07/26/2008 - music & lyrics

Independence...

Post by AquarianM on Jul 3, 2008 at 1:03am

Independence...

Sparklers and bangers,
Lightning bugs and picnics,
Swimming hard and warm stars,
Love in the Summer,
Watermelon delight.

It seems so easy,
I always think,
But this dream we live,
It needs eyes that see,
Every day.

Keep your heart in it,
While you see those lights.

Sparklers and bangers,
Lightning bugs and picnics,
Swimming hard and warm stars,
Love in the Summer,
Watermelon delight.

It seems so easy.

AquarianM

(C) 07/03/2008
By: Daniel A. Stafford

My new sax tune just finished this morning - "Sparklers."

www.archive.org/download/Sparklers_736/Sparklers.mp3

Alief Texas 1978...

Post by AquarianM on Jul 25, 2008 at 2:25am

Alief Texas 1978...

All the Gang was round back then,
Young and hale,
Big Lisa & Little Lisa,
Mona & Kit,
Juanita & Angie,
Scott & Michelle & Nick,
I'm sure I'm forgetting a face or two.

Mischief was always the order of the day,
One a.m. night flights to Galveston beach,
Sunshine in the pool,
Wild Parties with parents gone,
Teenage angst and lust in the heat.

What to do with life,
Who grew huge hooters,
Who didn't,
Where was life going.

I stood up for Lifeguard Laura,
Two years older than me,
Southern Belle glam and charm,
Called me her "cuter than a bugs ear" hero,
Cuddlier than her teddy bear,
Left my puppy heart behind when we moved.

It was always like that,
Uprooted every time I grew an inch,
Nothing stays in place,
Except the rosy glow of thirty years patina on old memories.

They're all lost now,
Scattered to time,
I hope all still hale and alive.

I wonder if I'd see a one on that moonlit beach.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(c) 07/25/2008

Rock County Nights...

Post by AquarianM on Jul 25, 2008 at 4:35am

Rock County Nights...

Is there a band playing tonight,
Or will it be the DJ under the light?
Should we cruise Pier 44,
Or the City Limits once more?

Wet T-shirt Thursdays?

You said Gyro's Lounge?
How much can we scrounge?
Pulaski's has a killer floor,
And I want to dance some more.

Pitcher of Water Melon cooler, sunset in glass.

Are they Dropping The Bomb on me?
Is there a cover or is it free?
Man those girls move fine,
Might just make one mine.

Moving in stereo to the rhythm.

Colored lights and a sequin strobe ball,
Gettin' tank topped and bouncin' off the wall.
Lover Boy and Judas Priest,
It was a dancers' feast.

Thump, thump, think I'll do The Bump.

I see what you're shakin',
And I'm hoppin' 'n swayin'.
Back Bar punches out the Metal,
After we go find a kettle.

Let go of that Swamp Water, man!
It's Ladies' Night!

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 08/02/2000

Author's Comments
In my very late teen years and twenties, Beloit and Janesville, Wisconsin were home to the best dance clubs around, folks used to come from out of state just to hit the floors and boogie down. I put a few moves in in my time, too. Every one of the places I used to go to has either closed, burned, or just went under. It's a sad state of affairs. Winter nights walking home after two in the morning smiling...

Stuffed...

Stuffed...

An eerie glow fills the room,
Flick of the switch.

My own thoughts remain unborn,
My head filled to bursting,
With the carefully-crafted thoughts of others,
People I don't even know.

Stuffed.

AquarianM

By Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 06-30-2017

Rembrandt Sleeping - Poem # 20

Prodigal Poet...

Prodigal Poet...

Pages have lain bare,
Wanting for ink,
Thirsty for soul dreams,
Lonely for mind-candy's hallowed release.

More than six years pass by,
Finally my pen is back to hand,
In the wee hours,
Absent the glow of electrons and keys.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 06-29-2017

Rembrandt Sleeping, Poem # 19.

Dream Riding With Night Spirits...

Post by AquarianM on Dec 29, 2007 at 12:02am

Dream Riding With Night Spirits...

A child again I ride,
Pedaling furiously in the twilight,
The ancient oak by the rail yard,
Silent and majestic in the starshine,
Growling wolf stops me cold,
"Wrap in the white light first."

Howling he runs beside me,
In my white light suit I race the tree,
Branches laden with ideas growing all about,
A bough breaks and falls away,
I ignite the rockets to either side,
Bolted to my bicycle,
I scream up the rough bark into the sky,
Arching high over the moon,
Wolf on the back seat singing.

I admire a passing star,
She beats tiny gossamer wings,
A streak of stardust to kiss my cheek,
I see the world floating below,
Having climbed the tree of life,
I ride the winter skies in joy.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 12/29/2007

A Perfect Night For Magic...

Post by AquarianM on Dec 30, 2007 at 10:32pm

A Perfect Night For Magic...

Silence holds me close,
Something Winter is singing,
Utter absence of sound profoundly deep,
Enclosing a glistening world of pure magic.

Each step completely a new thing,
Tracks laid in a fresh-fallen thick carpet of diamond dust,
White with a billion glitter points anywhere in eye-fall,
Streets of cloud filled with tiny gems.

Light fog lends the open field mystery,
Light-dust falling through the mist from streetlights,
Others surrounded in faded white globular nebulae,
Charcoal clouds ragged about the edge of the world.

Directly above the open sky rains constellations,
Dancing within and without the invisible clouds,
Feast and famine of light brilliant and fading and gone,
All around - trees crested in white flocked snow and frost wigs.

My breath joins the show as I set the last recycling to the curb,
An extra trip on a perfect night for magic,
The remainder of faded Christmas' lights an eerie burst of color,
The last night of the year else-wise bathed in black and white and starlight.

Happy New Year indeed.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 12/31/2007

Drumbeat Feet…

Post by AquarianM on Jan 3, 2008 at 12:19am

Drumbeat Feet…

I’m walking the track at the Y,
Fast paced and tired,
A thousand kids haven’t made it back to school yet,
New Year free on the basketball courts,
Dribble and shoot,
Dribble and shoot.

It’s the middle of the day my night,
And I hear the basketballs drumming,
Drumming like spirit-callers,
My eyes half close as I step to the erratic ecstatic,
Beat trance dancing I pretend it’s the savannah,
Wildebeast herds off in the distance,
Hoof-rocked and pounding stampede.

A dingo dog appears and walks with me,
Dusty trail not withstanding,
I see no lions or tigers,
Until an Aborigine man steps alongside,
Walking walking walking,
Footfall pounding the dirt with me,
Another dreamwalker.

I conjure up a snow globe,
Full of tiny wet flecks,
A nose-tickler and breath froster,
A toy so he can know snow,
He hands me a globe of hottest summer,
Full of croc breath and burning dry air,
Endless hotfooting across the burning Outback.

We smash the two together to create a balanced world,
The clock tells me to stop walking and go home.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 01/03/2008

Nothing Roasted, Nothing Drained...

Nothing Roasted, Nothing Drained...

I reach for the long blue handle of the antique English coffee mill,
Only to spin it again and again,
Lovely roasted brown flows into a paper sack,
Awaking the aroma that makes this the best-scented garage in the world,
If only for a day.

I've tried electric grinding,
It simply hasn't the soul,
Yet better than nothing.

Put your arm in it,
Along with some heart.

It's like the difference between a sea foam green Hermes and paper,
Vs. the light of a glowing screen,
You can't feel the pages,
Never hear the bell,
Don't feel the "thunk" in your wrist of the hard return,
It hasn't the grace.

Stainless steel is the basket in my percolator,
The better not to strain out the flavor you know,
The scent and steam and bubbling rattle of morning,
It's gratifying and more addictive than stopping time,
The heat of the stainless steel and the winding of the cord,
Or the bakelite handle and fuzzy aluminum with a bubble on top,
Stowed in my camping gear.

Does the scent filling the house awaken you?

Can you hear the rattling siren call?

I drift back to a younger time,
Transported,
Adrift in sweet dreams of my grandparents,
In the days before Hemingway drowned in a bottle,
When pages were real and could yellow with age,
When you could hold spirits in your hands and work flowed from flesh and bone,
Time was slow and daylight languid on a Summer weekend.

The world has gone wide and shallow and fast like rapids,
I miss the deep still lakes and the slowness of actual books,
Things that might never be really known again.

I am a deeper puddle in the muddle of splash,
Staring into the empty coffee cup of the old life and times,
Thinking slowly,
Lavishly,
"Nothing roasted,
Nothing drained..."

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 06/28/2017

Appraisal...

Post by AquarianM on Jan 4, 2008 at 1:46am

Appraisal...

Shhh…don’t let the secret out.

It’s a horrible dollar amount,
Dead plastic dreams in the dust,
A breach of your own trust.

Squeak and squirm and fidget,
Find a way to sell a new widget,
Before the flood comes.

Eating on credit cards,
The gas to move the car,
A pretty house not too large,
But wages are flat,
Paid by rats.

How much is it really worth?

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 01/04/2008

Lost In The Mist…

Post by AquarianM on Jan 9, 2008 at 2:04am

Lost In The Mist…

…of time,
So little to be found,
Like grains of sand passing one by one,
A rainstorm in January,
Thunder and lightning,
Tornado roaring,
Green grass in February,
Floods and drought,
What wins out?

Picture postcards in a lost museum,
Snow as high as your house,
Children in snowsuits sledding,
Night riding in a sleigh,
Melted away.

Who will remember Winter?

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 01/09/2008

Eggnog Latte...

Post by AquarianM on Jan 15, 2008 at 1:07am

Eggnog Latte...

In the falling afternoon sunlight,
Lazy Fall Sunday afternoon,
A steaming cup of holiday,
Whirls about my mind,
Stirred and lidded hand-warmer,
From which I spill poetry.

As I sip from that cup of memories
Of holidays long gone by
I savor the fragrance of their joy
Amid the velvet echoes
Of loves' sweet caress

Creamy and dreamy,
blackness and fluff
sweetness lingers
covering the bitter bite

Last minute shopping,
frantic wrapping,
hiding all the whimsical surprises,
at last a reward of frothy delight,
time being held still with a sip of holiday enjoyment,
a sense of satisfaction of new memories
being created and old ones passed on.

By: Green Leaf Coffee House Poetry Circle
© 11/24/2007
Contributing Authors: (In order of verse written)
Daniel A. Stafford
Russ Pergram
Shannon Prahl
Mary Andersen

The Question…

Post by AquarianM on Jan 15, 2008 at 11:56pm

The Question…

I have to ask it of you,
I must know the score,
Who is to be President,
Who will get the chore?

I’ll make you rack your brains,
The answer to guess and hack,
But what comes out of the machines,
Is what got put in the back.

If you think you have a crystal ball,
I’ve got silicon crystals to beat them all,
I’ll type at buttons and laugh,
You just voted for a blue giraffe.

An army of hackers red and blue,
A dog and pony show that’s now true blue,
Super Country killed by pieces of Nerdite,
Computer-scanned ballots black-inked on lilly-white.

Pay no attention to the electrons behind the curtain…

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 01/16/2008

Secret of the Ruby Heart...

Post by AquarianM on Jan 24, 2008 at 3:42am

Secret of the Ruby Heart...

She whispered “hold me, yet not with arms,"
A lost look in weary eyes was all you knew,
Some dream wandering hither and yon.

Close your eyes and see the ruby heart,
Pour it out upon her like chalice blood,
Delicate as life’s balance can be,
No drop wasted.

The sunset in her arms can beget a new dawn,
If you fill her cup with love under the stars,
To take the loneliness away.

Close your eyes and see the ruby heart,
Pour it out upon her like chalice blood,
Delicate as life’s balance can be,
No drop wasted.

“See me,” she whispered, "not with eyes."

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 01/24/2003

The Pear Tree Circle Mural Project...

The following mural was painted on the wall & ceiling of our 2nd floor at our townhouse in very early 2003 by me:

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The mural was painted over about three weeks ago as we are in the process of selling the town house. The upstairs area is now a stark, sterile, neutral white. The wall to the right of the mural had been painted a warm, tomatoey red and had black and white Elvis portraits and album covers in frames hung on it. The lamp in the stairwell is an imported Italian light fixture of an angel flying with a staff of wheat in one hand and a yellow-green lamp in the other. Like most Italian art, it is a touch risque'. The ceiling had the sunset fading to a deep indigo and then to black with stars and a comet on the ceiling. All the painting was done on a scaffold made of six two-by-six boards laid on the top stair and a ladder rung, and tied together.

Dan

(C) 10/27/2005 By Daniel A. Stafford

I Was Born On A River…

Post by AquarianM on Jan 31, 2008 at 4:16am

I Was Born On A River…

I was born in the midst of frost and snow,
Ice jagged on the riverbanks,
Stars chilled almost still on a cold night,
Some small town I still see magic in.

The old lagoon used to freeze over,
Ice skaters in the warming house,
Now the paddleboats reign,
A fresh coat of paint on the doors.

The people that imbued that place with magic,
It seems many have fled to someplace higher,
Or flowed down the stream of life,
Salmon run out to sea.

Springtime comes and the fish jump,
Life awakens all about,
Green water and green hills,
Trees budding in the scent of river water.

New dandelions flower,
Tadpoles turn to frogs,
Cottonwood seed floats in the sunlight,
Yet the limestone blocks of the water tower stand.

I was born on a river,
Where the current never stops.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 01/31/2008

Sleeping Under Misti...

Post by AquarianM on Feb 21, 2008 at 2:21am

Sleeping Under Misti...

The Three Sisters of Arequipa,
Nearby the sea,
Saucy and hot,
Eruptive,
Chaotic.

They sleep for a time,
How long no one knows,
Your guess as good as mine,
Yet day or night,
They can roar with fire,
Smokingly explosive.

Ampato the tall one,
Chachani the middle sister,
Beautiful and dangerous little Misti,
Daughters of Peru,
What will you do,
On an Arequipa night?

Senoritas calientes…

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 02/21/2008

www.andeantrails.co.uk/misti2.htm

Rembrandt Sleeping...

Post by AquarianM on Feb 18, 2011 at 10:30pm

Rembrandt Sleeping...

Painting a night's impression in soft and vivid dreams,
Imagery jumbles life like a learning curve,
Pillow-lust in linseed oil tints,
A renaissance of nightly mind evolves slowly,
Whispering like momentary centuries of colored dust,
Mutable and yet credible,
Inspiration ripe to pluck,
On the finished canvas of drowsy morning.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 02/11/2011

"Rembrandt...Sleeping" poem # 5.

Torrone...

Post by AquarianM on Feb 25, 2008 at 6:34pm

Torrone...

A little yellow box,
Pictures of the old places,
Famous names and faces gone,
Sweet Arancio,
Vaniglia gentle on the tongue,
Lemon gentle,
La Florentine,
From the red white and green,
I grew up with them,
In each box I taste childhood,
A mystery of long ago,
And all the magic people inhabiting it,
A wonder that suits my taste.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 02/25/2008

For Want Of An Olive...

Post by AquarianM on Feb 28, 2008 at 12:17am

For Want Of An Olive...

I stalk down memory lane – hiding,
Lest a breath blow away my ghosts,
Hearing whispers of happy times,
A place where dreams were infinite.

You can’t lose here as long as you don’t disturb anything.

The filters that bring me to this place are diverse,
Songs or dishes or old antiques,
Some wisp of yesteryear on the internet,
A picture haunting a magazine page.

I can never get enough – how about you?

I tread with utmost caution,
Trying to glimpse anything I’ve forgotten,
Put it in my treasure box,
Filled with the ultimate of ultimates – memories.

My hunger growls from my gut - unquenchable.

For want of an olive my shadows hear me,
Running off to Heaven on rainbow wings,
Discovery thwarted by distraction,
A lack of hypnosis and focus.

I awaken starving for more sleep.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 02/28/2008

A Matter Of Focus...

A Matter Of Focus...

What I say,
What I see,
Large-looming things I water in the garden of my life.

It maters little if I despise them,
Not a whit if I wish to uproot,
Nor love and cherish,
The flowers or weeds I speak to will grow.

All the World should pay attention,
Give that payment to the flowers,
For the weeds grow so easily.

It's really all a matter of focus.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 06/19/2017

When Sunset Falls...

Post by AquarianM on Oct 4, 2007 at 12:04am

When Sunset Falls...

I used to love the soft fiery orange of you,
The feel of your wheel under my hands,
Responsive and agile and powerful,
We raced rainbows and hawks,
Toured the countryside and highways,
Listened to soft jazz and hard rock,
But tonight I hear the blues.

In the silvery haze of falling rain,
You danced free of my hands,
Like a wild thing I’d found myself riding,
Throwing us both into hard concrete,
Smashing and abrading at forty five miles an hour,
In the darkness of a washed-out night.

It’s not the pain in my chest pulled,
Nor the bruises on my arm,
Nor the missed night of work,
But the hard-earned payment freedom,
The feel of something that finally fit me perfectly,
Torn and ruined and twisted,
A forlorn broken child,
Huddled in the driveway.

Instant replay keeps me near steaming,
Boiling and furious and lost,
I never thought the Sunset Truck,
Would try to water ski down I-55.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 10/04/2007

A Breath Of Chill...

Post by AquarianM on Nov 6, 2007 at 3:12am

A Breath Of Chill...

In the clouded dark of November night,
Autumn whispers softly fall,
Starless grey-yellow glow of city lights,
Flurries come to call,
Luscious sisters to Jack Frost,
He’s been painting a delicate web,
Listening nights of summer lost,
Longing for warm covers abed,
Leaves, leaves, leaf and twig,
Dancing all about the air,
Just a falling mercury jig,
A hat upon my grey-speckled hair,
Goodnight is not yet - it’s early eve,
Treasure the light and candle’s warmth shining in the air.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 11/6/2007

Eagle Boy's Gift...

Post by AquarianM on Nov 28, 2007 at 1:05am

Eagle Boy's Gift...

A thing of pure beauty,
Easy to rest the eyes on,
It sits on my finger in a silver circle,
Graceful oval with silver wings,
Looking like the globe of the Earth,
Perched in my own personal space.

It’s my own little ceremony,
I have three rings,
One gold and white-gold wedding band on the left,
One silver and turquoise on ring finger right,
Right pinky silver with a black and white yin-yang,
The last I bought when twenty,
On the banks of the river in my home town,
My first time at Riverfest.

The turquoise and silver was made by Eagle Boy,
It even says so inside,
I bought it at Hozhoni’s – a friend’s shop,
Janet knows the artist now retired.

Every day I put them on,
Starting left to right:
“I am connected to, protected by, and supplied by love.”
“I am connected to, a protector of, and supplied by the Earth”
“I am connected to, protected by, and supplied by God and all the Universe.”

Eagle Boy gave to me the Earth.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 11/29/2007

Frozen Delivery...

Post by AquarianM on Dec 8, 2007 at 12:54am

Frozen Delivery...

Just a child,
Long ago,
A memory,
Of sweet young summer,
Little dark haired girl.
Daddy's girl,
Before there were ice cream trucks,
Horse's bells chased children's ears,
Brick paved streets,
Small midwestern town,
The ice man is coming,
Cut from winter rivers and streams,
Crystal shards the tongs break free,
Shine dripping in sunlight,
Given to a child,
Wood and leather and horses,
Clip clop, clip, clop,
Pet the horsy,
Blessed cool clear ice,
On a sweltering summer day,
No other relief unless water's found,
Not an air conditioner anywhere around,
Frozen fingers in the nineties,
Mom told me about those days,
I guess it's different things,
But kids don't change their basic ways.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 11/07/2001

Author's Comments

One of Mom's fave childhood memories, I
could picture this so clearly when she was
telling me about it. How men with horse-drawn wagons delivered ice cut from the river in winter on summer days before air conditioners or ice cream men existed in the everyday world.

Something About The Moon Last Night...

Post by AquarianM on Nov 25, 2007 at 11:51pm

Something About The Moon Last Night...

They say it's just ice crystals,
High in the atmosphere,
Twenty two degree refraction,
Across forty six degrees of sky,
But that's just science for you.

They say it means weather on the way,
However many stars in the ring are the number of days,
Frost and fraught with hazardous white,
A portent of frozen night,
But that's just folklore for you.

I say it's rare and wondrous,
The moon a brilliant pebble dropped,
The sky a frosted grey pond of night,
And wonder of folklore and science,
But that's just me for you.

All I know for sure is it covered a quarter of the sky that night.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 11/26/2007

Latter Day High School Saints...

Post by AquarianM on Nov 25, 2007 at 11:29pm

Latter Day High School Saints...

I looked around a bit,
In the mirror I saw what the blow dryer had wrought,
I was back to seventeen,
Wearing my Barry Gibb wings of golden hair,
Sans bell-bottoms, wide collars and stacks.

We went to the mall like that,
Stopped at the Fanny May kiosk,
The Rappers were the checkout clerks,
All giant hood and baggy pants,
It suddenly occurred,
The bell-bottom curse had grown,
Something fed in the Little Shop of Horrors,
These latter-day high school saints,
Are wearing the bell from top to bottom,
If they go polyester I'll know for sure.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 11/26/2007

Snow Skies Whiting...

Post by AquarianM on Dec 7, 2007 19:56:26 GMT -7

Snow Skies Whiting...

I look up and the sky is a close ghost,
Grey mist roof dome waiting,
Dreaming of fractal designs in crystal and soft white,
Hiding the soft underbelly of gliding hawks,
Which alight in the standing sticks like snow spirits,
Peering at an up-staring mad poet,
Who bothers so much to often notice.

The streets are push-dried and lined with plow-plunder,
Wet whispers wishing for more,
And I can’t get past the child-in-wonder in me,
Delighted despite the chores,
I fantasize snow down a co-worker’s neck,
Laughing clouds of jewel-smoke breath,
Surrendered completely to winter.

I was putting up and out Christmas just that morning and afternoon,
The perfect time to winkle and twinkle and blinkle,
Colors like candy-light over white,
Dancing boughs in the grey-blue steely wind,
The sun is a blinding white spot of haze just waiting to retire early,
I am cocooned soundless under snow skies whiting.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 12/08/2007

Why We Need To Save The History Of Web Poetry (Video)

Online poetry is a very unique *global* culture. It speaks to the emotional mindset of a large cross-section of the world. Web poetry began in the mid-1990's, and some of the poets that started with it have already passed away. For understanding the psychological history of humanity, if nothing else, this is an important tool. How it came about and was shaped over the years is an important factor. This history is little-known, and in danger of being lost. This is the second in a series of videos I plan to do on the subject, so that at least what I know of it is recorded for posterity. - Dan  

Silent Blue Hills…

Post by AquarianM on Dec 20, 2007 at 2:38am

Silent Blue Hills…

In the late night fog freezing,
Shivering stars above,
Dancing in and out,
Moon ghost floating high,
Faded and lazy night,
Silverfish memories swim my blood,
Bone chilling wonder and regret,
Alone in the snow light,
Too much for tears ever to melt,
The silent blue hills are calling,
Wishing me into the mists,
Not ready I stand in the falling snow,
A dash of Christmas in my hand fading,
Led dazed by a cruel heart,
To water now flat blue ice,
I shall never again consent to drink,
A specter of frost and glassy ice,
Gleaming in holiday lights.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 12/20/2007

The Golden Age... (With Video)

The Golden Age...

In this matrix everything was new,
Young,
Naive,
Hopeful,
Wistful,
Only a few imps played about.

All about the poets danced their pens,
Everywhere everywhere were their secret gardens,
Full of gemstones all tucked away,
Glittering glittering bright.

The world was crossed with them,
Neither mattered country nor creed,
The words poured between,
Quiet little treasures of humanity.

Soon enough the matrix grew up,
Bridge trolls eyeing pots of gold,
jewels are not their thing,
Gold, only gold.

They dug up the gardens and laid them waste,
The jewels buried in the rubble dissolved in the rain,
Sugar-baubles washed away away,
Ephemeral.

A few gardens survive,
Oases in a hard-paved desert,
Only a token away from the trolls' destruction,
When the last piece of gold has gone.

Who will tell the story of the Golden Age,
Will the world even remember when the poets wrote the world,
Their names and their names,
Or even their bones?

A scribe we need,
To cage the Golden Age,
Bottle it up for all to see and remember,
When the electric fields and we were young.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 06/10/2017

Author's note:
We're at a unique time and place in history. Many of us here witnessed the birth of the internet...and with it, internet poets.Too often, when a website goes down for lack of funding, the poetry goes with it. The poets, like all people, age and pass. It strikes me that the last twenty years has been a sort of golden age for internet poetry. The web has grown soooo commercial. The sharks circle the heavens, and there are ghost towns strewn about like after the wild, wild West was no longer young. If this era and these things aren't chronicled in some way, this literary history could be lost; Dandelion seeds on the Summer winds. There is a reason the Beat Poets and the Romantics are remembered. Their works were put down on something more permanent than electrons on chips. Their history and legends were chronicled, their works made available to the public. I wonder of ours.

Whisper Winter’s Name…

Post by AquarianM on Dec 14, 2007 at 3:58am

Whisper Winter’s Name…

A night of soft glow reflection on whited-out ground,
Lost in the coal-grey night starless,
Boot-crunched slip-slide among the candy lights,
Dreaming of fire-lit morning and torn wrappers,
Everything just-right white,
If the ground be seen on the eve prior,
I whisper Winter’s name,
Calling and begging for decorations falling,
Frosted window panes,
Happy music and brown grass tufts afloat in white waves,
A need for light in life’s respite,
We’re whispering Winter’s name,
Whispering wishing waiting and wanting,
Crystal art became from falling rain.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 12/14/2007

With A Little Love…

Post by AquarianM on Dec 22, 2007 at 12:43am

With A Little Love…

A sigh and a long look,
Out a winter window,
Small snowflakes fall,
White blanket to tuck the world abed,
Grey-white light fading fast,
The Christmas lights are all about.

The songs we sing are joyful or longing,
Happy or hopeful or wistful,
Tender music sculpts the holiday air,
Putting our spirits in a gentle reflection,
A year fading fast and a new one slipping in.

Walking in breath clouds we dream,
With a little love our tears slip out,
Maybe washed away by snowflakes,
Maybe we’re just a bit more open about the heart right now,
All dream-wide and mystical.

With a little love.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 12/22/2007

Steppin' Over The Line...

Post by AquarianM on Sep 7, 2007 at 11:02pm

Steppin' Over The Line...

I feel the pull of a puddle of jet,
Trying to keep my feet from getting wet,
I'm high-steppin' to leave it behind,
Burning the darkness from my mind,
A waste of breath and ticks of the clock,
I'm seeking the light from bottom to top,
Goin' to turn left or right just in time,
'Cause there's just no use,
In steppin' over the line.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 09/08/2007

Tree To The Sea...

Post by AquarianM on Sep 11, 2007 at 10:09pm

Tree To The Sea...

Drumbeat waves roll - heartbeat sand crashed night,
Into the small cave by the sea,
Climbing glowing drú into the upper world,
Wading dream-time star seas,
The voices of waving grasses sing,
Chants of stones and sea-foam moonlit,
Lightning symbol crescendo emphasis,
Wounds bound of dry sea oats,
White light whispers from heaven,
Hawk guides albatross to my shoulder,
Climbing down we emerge,
Healing union.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 09/11/2007

*Note: drú - Gaelic for oak*

Dear Sally...

Post by AquarianM on Sep 17, 2007 at 8:58pm

Dear Sally...

Ahhh, sweetheart -
You've been our girl next door since I was just a teen,
Amazing yet and all the better,
You still are.

You've got a heart on you hon.
I can hear it -
They might not want me to,
But oh yes - I most definitely can.

I remember that about you,
It was always there as long as I remember,
And you reached out with it on that stage again,
But the fox is a hound and tried to muzzle.

Dear little riding the Bandit's hood,
You said it like it is,
And all the stop action in the universe failed,
Because you've got a heart on you.

You've got a heart on you hon.
I can hear it -
They might not want me to,
But oh yes - I most definitely can.

Dear, dear Sally.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 09/17/2007

(For Sally Field)

Of Grass And Tree...

Post by AquarianM on Sep 13, 2007 at 12:09pm

Of Grass And Tree...



There is no world without trees.
There is no world without grass.

Tall and strong and whispering flutter on the wind,
Leaves and blades rustle and wisk,
The color clock of seasons shades the hour,
Holding the land steady,
Soil firmly in place and neither wind nor rain diminish that life,
From the deep earth they nourish,
All the beasts of the land live by their sacrifice.

The air itself is thus replenished,
The sky is balanced and whole in their presence,
The butterfly and bison,
The cattle and the sheep,
The grasshopper and spider,
The earthworm and the bear,
The chipmunk and the squirrel,
The wolf and the cougar,
The tiger and the lamb,
The owl and the man.

Of God who gave the gifted world to us,
Use it and them as we will,
God put our life in our own hands.

Balance lives, and all else falls.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 09/13/2007

I Want To Believe...

Post by AquarianM on Sep 23, 2007 at 10:18pm

I Want To Believe...

I want to believe,
Yes I want to believe - oh, believe,
In something bigger than me,
In something more than a season,
Of change,
Or more of the same.

Love can hold away the blues,
Sometimes -
Think you might know what you'll find,
But the winds never stop,
They just blow and blow.

I want to believe,
Yes I want to believe - oh, believe,
In something bigger than me,
In something more than a season,
Of change,
Or more of the same.

Can we touch the world,
Some way beautiful,
Some way sane,
Some way fine?

I want to believe,
Yes I want to believe - oh, believe,
In something bigger than me,
In something more than a season,
Of change,
Or more of the same.

You color the spring and summer and fall,
But winter always comes,
Freezing for a frightened soul,
That doorway each faces alone.

I want to believe,
Yes I want to believe - oh, believe,
In something bigger than me,
In something more than a season,
Of change,
Or more of the same.

What goes around,
What goes to ground,
What everyone remembers,
Maybe just for now.

I want to believe,
Yes I want to believe - oh, believe,
In something bigger than me,
In something more than a season,
Of change,
Or more of the same.

I live by this season's love,
A gift so precious,
I'll give and receive but never let go,
It's all the forever I get to really know.

I want to believe,
Yes I want to believe - oh, believe,
In something bigger than me,
In something more than a season,
Of change,
Or more of the same.

Come with me every night,
Every winter's cold road,
Every lane to a fireplace,
You know the only way home.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 09/24/2007

Weather Wishing...

Post by AquarianM on Oct 1, 2007 at 2:18am

Weather Wishing...

Whispers inside you sigh,
Rain from a cloudless sky,
Bring the silence of still air just in time,
Grow the grass and feed the trees,
A touch of warmth lingering longer by the year,
When the cool breath of Fall finally blows by,
Black birds and geese rule the sky,
Herons and mallards and peregrine,
In the hush of a misting mind I sigh,
Turning to watch the stars.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 10/01/2007

In The Quiet Hours...

Post by AquarianM on Oct 1, 2007 at 10:30pm

In The Quiet Hours...

The clock rolls round past the mid-mark,
Into the space of the inside,
When we’re all closer to the ragged edges of space-time,
Not far from the gusher of raw undermind,
And specks of light fire the imagination,
Lack of sleep breaking down barriers,
Let us forget “reality” for an hour or three.

If you stand under the stars on these cool nights of fall,
Feel the hackles on you rise,
See off into distant space,
Feel closer to some ancient camp fire than electric lights,
Don’t worry much about it.

Poets do that all the time,
See things with inside eyes,
Illuminated more by heart-light than cold reason,
We touch the stuff of everything,
Trying to bring back a little something,
In the twisted little cacophony that words become,
When compared to that vision.

Maybe some night,
A hint of melody will follow them through,
Reason enough for this life’s quest.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 10/02/2007

In Dreamtime...

Post by AquarianM on Oct 6, 2007 at 1:53am

In Dreamtime...

Whisper a lovers' secret,
In a word artist's nibbled ear,
Something gently gleaming,
Of stardust and golden stairs,
Far away in twilight's forest,
A clearing of moonlit glade,
My siren my dryad darling,
Break through my rosy haze,
Dancing with silver spring waters on our feet,
Rippling in love-night's aching glow,
The music in the trees rustles softly,
An orchestra of wayward stars,
Give me a lover's token,
To whisper over mere mortal ears,
Slumbering upon pillows far below.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 10/06/2007