Mmmm...the light is shining above, the night life has slipped away, it's time to cast a *pillow* spell and drift off to dream visions in soft red light...

*POOF*

How To Move (Me):

Baby feel another way to move when you're around,
Wound up in the sound of your fire,
Have you ever lost your mind at the slightest sign,
Fill my eyes with desire,
See you sway like the wind at play,
Touch me in the music,
Touch me in the heart,
Take me by storm where the dreams all start,
Sound of your voice going over my edge,
All I need to lose my head,
Oh, baby you're my wild child,
Reason's been filed away,
Sway in my eyes like the fire inside,
Body electric under my hands,
Shocked with your allure,
Under your spell,
I have to move, can't you tell?
It's a very fine grind every time,
Baby feel another way to move when you're around,
Wound up in the sound of your fire,
Have you ever lost your mind at the slightest sign,
Fill my eyes with desire,
See you sway like the wind at play,
Blow me away.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 12/09/2002

Author's Comments
I still have that beat stuck in my head.

I remember a crystal screen vision once that spoke about making *music* magic, some of the prettiest magic of all. It said you needed *words* and *music* blended together to craft the art. Somehow, someday, I need to find a *music* whizzyrd to work with my words.

Fire Of The Flower:

Orchids in bloom,
Filled with songs of wind and abandon,
See the blush of their heat,
Shimmer your vision,
Sounds of their song drive you wild,
Beauty wraiths in glory,
Upon their self made Orchid Throne,
Voices burning into your depths,
Youth and fire and desire,
Every scent and sight and sound,
Plays you upon the field,
Where the flowers dance you to paradise,
Magic you can't touch,
Can you hear the dream,
Blooming to the beat,
In a Fireflower blush,
Hear the Wild Orchids,
Just,
Oh, just hush,
And listen,
With your eyes,
With your ears,
The Orchids,
Sway,
That way,
Hush,
Blush...

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 12/09/2002

Author's Comments:
Based on the Gal Band "Wild Orchid" and
the glam and Rapsong sound they have goin' on.
Wild Orchid

I had an interesting look at a screen belonging to a coven of lady bards that call themselves Wild Orchid just a bit ago, it seems the third member of the coven has left and they are only two now. So sad, they did a Christmas vision last year that was absolutely stunning in my opinion. At some point I'm going to ckeck further into their *vibrations* on crystal disc and see how their non-holiday sound is.

I don't know what made that one appear in the old crystal screen just now, but *mnemonic* visions appear just when they've a fate to, so there it is.

I'd say it's time for a good old war story.

There once was an old whizzryd named Rudini. (He was really, really old. Ancient. Antique.) Generally, he was full of *happy* spells, but as young whizzyrds, one of our Circle decided to buzz him with a taunting *chant* spell. It was particularly unpleasant to that generation, and old Rudini sent a *flying rake* spell on us, the rake chasing us down the sidewalk and scattering the circle. Still, the nervy aprentiwhizzyrd kept up his taunt spell until both he and old Rudini were all tuckered out. (Somehow, I don't think it's very pleasant to have a magic bullhorn follow you around chanting "Come on, Rudini, get some buttini, I done had me some!" for hours on end, either.) The sad part was, poor ol' Rudini was never very nice to apprentimages after that day. He had been somewhat of a friend of my Grandfather's, so I wasn't too thrilled with the whole thing, but it WAS pretty funny at first. Personally, I think the young Stinkerspell that set up the *chant* was lucky old Rudini didn't fry him and have his brains on the cauldron, but for some reason he chose not to.

Dream In Red Velvet:

I had fallen through the fog of sleep,
Landed on a gentle touch calling eylids open,
The Angel Of Fire stands in my eyes,
Where the winds are hot and steam blasts free,
There is a red sky in all directions,
Even up and down,
Mirrors whirl slowly at our edges,
Eye corner glances amid red velvet flickering,
As slowly silk and cotton fall free to disappear,
My eyes are pulled into the fire...

Skin under gliding fingertips,
Cupped hands overflowing with soft warm delight,
The wet taste of fire burns sweet on the tongue,
Just the right touch ignites the straining fuse,
Eyes filled with uncontrollable magic vision,
Scenes burn into us igniting our cores,
Touching and incredibly touched,
Enspelled to a rhythmic electric connection,
Touch bombs we've become,
Giving voices helplessly to the explosion.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 12/08/2002

Author's Comments:
Interesting wave we're all riding. I wrote this before
I read a single poem, but it seems there's some spice out
there in the undermind of late.

Whissler's Paradise:

Snow flakes fall in a small town,
Early on on a mid-December eve,
An old man meanders slowly through the snow,
For once in his many years,
He has a place to go.

Street lights only add to the Christmas light cheer.

He'd sipped from the bottle,
The one in the pocket of his tatty black overcoat,
Just enough to get a warm glow in his center,
He walked down the decorated sidewalks,
Past places running down slowly that he'd known for years.

Cracked sidewalks and rust, busted shingles and faded paint.

The snow covered any litter,
Falling on an eyelash or cheek in cold awakening,
He walked slowly with purpose,
Unlike the street people with no place to get warm,
He had a small apartment filled with memories.

Lonely winter years lair.

Soon the sign his rheumy old eyes sought was ahead,
Faded and flaking colors held hints of past glory,
"Majestic" in bold lettering a masquerade of days gone by,
There was something special playing,
It had been so many years.

Glory days will pass you by.

As he drew near Christmas music played,
Kind and gentle and sweet like he remembered it,
Although there were few who would know these songs,
As long ago as it had been since there had been charts,
Let alone they'd been atop such a thing.

All those notes now played in Heaven.

He stood under the lights he so long had remembered,
And the faded colorful marquis read something,
Something he'd thought dead long ago,
In these days of holograms and space colonies,
"It's a Wonderful Life" in grand, so grand bold.

Visitations were now due.

A smile and a tear escaped his face in the same moment,
And his eyes closed as he saw Her there,
Some butter-haired pixie girl he once knew,
He remembered plucked daisies and a shiny Schwinn,
Blue jeans and puff coats and incessant youth.

When love was still alive and hugging.

His lips tingled with memories of a long-gone high school kiss,
And she faded into his longing missing lonely heart,
And he opened his eyes and walked up to the booth,
A novelty in his hand many hadn't seen in years,
Crisp green bills of paper, real paper.

No picochip implant readers here.

The child at heart wearing grey pigtails in the box office,
Took his bills and popped another faded novelty,
Bubble gum pink as she smiled with her red and green bows,
She handed him real paper tickets,
And he smiled shaking as he stepped inside.

Oh, the smell of popcorn butter!

They say scent is the last to go,
That was his thought as he looked at chrome and glass,
Waiting in the concession line,
Imagine a concession line after so much time,
Movie posters brought so many memories to flooding front.

Walking toward the usher, real live usher!

He walked in and sat down amongst a sea,
A sea of white and grey hair and smiling tears,
And the lights dimmed away softly,
The old silver screen flickered to glowing life,
The notes and credits rolled in black and white flickers.

Oh, God, Jimmy looks so young!

They found him there with smiling still eyes,
The half eaten popcorn in his cold hand,
A salty tear drying on his cheek,
The coke was still full of ice in the cup holder,
No longer lonely or old Mr. Whissler.

He's now the ghost of Christmas past.

I hear Christmas bells ringing, I swear, somewhere.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

(C) 12/15/2001

Author's Comments:
I've seen it happen to generations before,
in time we all must go here, the things we
love fade from the world slowly drawing
us off into the sparkling night.

The Electric Elf:

'Twas the night before Christmas,
And all through the house,
The parents were scrambling,
Because the twinkle lights were out!

'Twas the night before Christmas and no one slept a wink,
Where are those spare Christmas bulbs,
Oh please help me think,
Before I call a Christmas shrink!

'Twas the night before Christmas and I keeled over in bed,
As my wife and I looked at the clock in dread,
I set the alarm for six when the clock said four thirty,
So don't blame Mrs. Claus if Santa is surly!

The bells just rang without moving the sleigh,
Oh, my goodness, it's Christmas Day!

I hopped in my suit and a candle I lit,
I ran down the stairs and I stared like a twit,
For just at the tree was an incredible sight,
There was a Neon Elf with a spare Christmas light!

Yes, the stockings were twinkling,
The tree was ablaze with blinking,
The windows were glowing,
Outside it was even now snowing!

I shook and I sputtered,
I think I must have quite stuttered,
As I thanked him and all his ilk,
I even handed over Santa's left over cookies and milk!

Well, he winked,
I swear his eyes blinked,
And quicker than you could say Blitzen,
Up the chimney that Electric Elf was splittin',
A whoosh I heard and I saw a cloud of soot,
The last thing to go was a lighted Kid Nike foot!

Then I heard giggles from the top of the stairs,
I hurried and emptied my bag of merchants' wares,
The tinsel tree was glowing just bright as could be,
Lit by the now fixed cloured light rotisserie,
And down the stairs came my little kids,
When they saw all the lights they quite flipped their lids!

Soon Mrs. Santa arrived and all was Christmas glee,
As little Whosits tore paper up under the tree,
And that's when I thanked my lucky stars,
Mrs. Santa's from Venus,
But that Electric Elf left toy light up cars!

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 11/16/2001

Author's Comments:
I know it's a bit early, but the Muse' gifts
are given when She's ready, so here we are.
(PS: The spell checker wanted to replace Blitzen - with "blitzed"!) *LOL*

Whissler's Paradise:

Snow flakes fall in a small town,
Early on on a mid-December eve,
An old man meanders slowly through the snow,
For once in his many years,
He has a place to go.

Street lights only add to the Christmas light cheer.

He'd sipped from the bottle,
The one in the pocket of his tatty black overcoat,
Just enough to get a warm glow in his center,
He walked down the decorated sidewalks,
Past places running down slowly that he'd known for years.

Cracked sidewalks and rust, busted shingles and faded paint.

The snow covered any litter,
Falling on an eyelash or cheek in cold awakening,
He walked slowly with purpose,
Unlike the street people with no place to get warm,
He had a small apartment filled with memories.

Lonely winter years lair.

Soon the sign his rheumy old eyes sought was ahead,
Faded and flaking colors held hints of past glory,
"Majestic" in bold lettering a masquerade of days gone by,
There was something special playing,
It had been so many years.

Glory days will pass you by.

As he drew near Christmas music played,
Kind and gentle and sweet like he remembered it,
Although there were few who would know these songs,
As long ago as it had been since there had been charts,
Let alone they'd been atop such a thing.

All those notes now played in Heaven.

He stood under the lights he so long had remembered,
And the faded colorful marquis read something,
Something he'd thought dead long ago,
In these days of holograms and space colonies,
"It's a Wonderful Life" in grand, so grand bold.

Visitations were now due.

A smile and a tear escaped his face in the same moment,
And his eyes closed as he saw Her there,
Some butter-haired pixie girl he once knew,
He remembered plucked daisies and a shiny Schwinn,
Blue jeans and puff coats and incessant youth.

When love was still alive and hugging.

His lips tingled with memories of a long-gone high school kiss,
And she faded into his longing missing lonely heart,
And he opened his eyes and walked up to the booth,
A novelty in his hand many hadn't seen in years,
Crisp green bills of paper, real paper.

No picochip implant readers here.

The child at heart wearing grey pigtails in the box office,
Took his bills and popped another faded novelty,
Bubble gum pink as she smiled with her red and green bows,
She handed him real paper tickets,
And he smiled shaking as he stepped inside.

Oh, the smell of popcorn butter!

They say scent is the last to go,
That was his thought as he looked at chrome and glass,
Waiting in the concession line,
Imagine a concession line after so much time,
Movie posters brought so many memories to flooding front.

Walking toward the usher, real live usher!

He walked in and sat down amongst a sea,
A sea of white and grey hair and smiling tears,
And the lights dimmed away softly,
The old silver screen flickered to glowing life,
The notes and credits rolled in black and white flickers.

Oh, God, Jimmy looks so young!

They found him there with smiling still eyes,
The half eaten popcorn in his cold hand,
A salty tear drying on his cheek,
The coke was still full of ice in the cup holder,
No longer lonely or old Mr. Whissler.

He's now the ghost of Christmas past.

I hear Christmas bells ringing, I swear, somewhere.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 12/15/2001

Author's Comments:
I've seen it happen to generations before,
in time we all must go here, the things we
love fade from the world slowly drawing
us off into the sparkling night.

Off to the *pillow* spell, I've cast a zillion telecomm spells last night, the gremlins can play with the other whizzyrds. Peace and thank you all for visiting, but even *coffein* spells are no longer working.

*POOF*

The Glow:

I wander the place with the eyes of a Christmas spirit,
Seeing magic at every turn,
The angel Grace flies in the stairwell,
Carrying her gift of a staff of wheat in one hand,
And a soft yellow light of warmth in the other,
The glass tree on the foyer table small and shining hot lights,
The Blue Angel rests in the corner under her star,
She that graced my childhood dreams,
Silverfrost the Snowman,
Dances on the dining room table,
Amidst his cotton puff drifts,
Outside two trees filled to brimming with happy lights,
Shedding a soft fifties Christmas glow,
And the dancing Lighted Snowmen,
All hurrah in a line 'round the snowed in garden,
The fixtures on the porches bright red and green,
And out front the white lit wreath over the garage light,
All down the street the magic carries on,
As neighbors in turn put out Christmas lights,
All of us remember with big child wide eyes,
Something wonderful and magical,
The Christmas Glow...

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 12/03/2002

Author's Comments:
People are really going all out for Christmas this year.
I decorated yesterday outside, my wife did inside.
It looks wonderful and getting better daily.

Christmas Prayer:

I look into the Christmas candle and I see,
A flickering flame of hope for you and me,
Clasp your hands and raise your eyes,
Praise the Lord up in the skies,
Beg him way down on your knees,
No more anger if He'd please,
He sent messengers to speak of Love,
Grant the hope of a peaceful dove,
So let each of us Christmas Eve pray,
That the light of peace and love shall guide the way,
That fear and anger leave every heart,
And then the wonders will begin to start.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 12/03/2002

Author's Comments:
A sincere wish that we all make the personal choice
to abandon the practice of fear.

The hour is late and dark, and I'm visiting with visions of spirits. I see a star up in the sky so bright, that were I to cast magic far enough it just might reach, but the night is too cold to wander that far. Standing feet down in the castle, I can feel the freezing wind blast down my collar, the snow picked up off the ground by an angry Zephyr, and whizzed onto my cheeks and up my nostrils, which stick together by Winter's magic. The waters have grown hard translucent blue, the world turned to white, and even though the sky is open, it's frigid by starlight. When I look up to Jupiter I see the celestial hall of kings, the Palace of Archetypes. The Spirit of Music lives there, though we called him by his lesser name when he was here in the 1950's and made himself known. The Spirit of Wisdom that has visited under many guises, bringing new theories and understandings in each era. The Spirit of Dreams who moves my hand and so many others following the Path of the Pen. The Spirit of Love makes her home in another place closer to the Rosy Dawn. The Spirit of Strength lives there, though he's come often to crack a bat or throw a ball. These are his simpler, lesser spells, he has stood strong in places we're priveledged not to know. The Spirit of Fear has gone furthest from the warmth, hiding in amongst the snow heaps and cold reaches far from sight of Man, yet whispering errors into the undermind. His only dominion is through those who listen in naivete. These and many other spirits wander the halls of the soul, facets of the Godforce that we are able to somewhat comprehend. Take great care in hearing them, for the best of them is Love, she who guards the secrets of warmth. When she holds you to her bosom and opens the thighs of her heat, the Spirit of Passion can be then reborn, yet only her arms can cradle the Spirit of Understanding.

Law Of The Decorati:

Who are these reverse Christmas bandits,
That steal trees and lights into our life,
Somewhere in the frozen night?

Close your eyes and lights appear,
Maybe there or over here,
Try it yourself and you'll find,
The Law of the Decorati...

*At least three bulbs will burn out,
The tree is never even there's no doubt,
The fuses soon will blow,
Faster than blizzard snow,
All the spares in the world matter not,
When one socket gets too hot,
The snow will fall before you set foot out the door,
And you'll be out there six times more.*

When you see those beautiful Christmas lights,
Remember the Decorati and their plight,
Stealing away in the freezing night,
Facing chilblains and frost bite,
To give pleasure to your child sight.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 12./03/2002

Author's Comments:
Just some fun with the Christmas decorating. Wish I could
get a hand from that Electric Elf...

Little Angel Walk The Sun:

Without dreams it's just too cold,
Always need your hand to hold,
Touch together light of gold,
In the sea of Heaven above,
Under a star of love.

Little Angel, walk the Sun,
Leave behind ice and cold,
When it's my love you hold,
Little Angel, walk the Sun.

See your toes dance across the sand,
Vision of footsteps across the land,
Washed out by the waves without your hand,
You are my promised land,
Heaven right where you stand.

Little Angel, walk the Sun,
Leave behind ice and cold,
When it's my love you hold,
Little Angel, walk the Sun.

I see a star in the sky,
Feel the fire way up high,
Lost in you too far to be shy,
Forgot to wonder why,
All I know is I'm alive.

Little Angel, walk the Sun,
Leave behind ice and cold,
When it's my love you hold,
Little Angel, walk the Sun.

Like a fiery star streaked across the night,
Of my dreams and inner sight,
You are the light,
In the sea of Heaven above,
Under a star of love.

Little Angel, walk the Sun,
Leave behind ice and cold,
When it's my love you hold,
Little Angel, walk the Sun.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 12/03/2002

Author's Comments:
The Muse is back, singing to me.

Seems like the Snow Goddess sure has a grip on the weather around here. The nice part is, it's pretty when she's in the mood to decorate. It's coming down out there like pixie dust in a hurricane.

Fade Of The Fall:

Look out the windows,
All the world is falling white,
Across the pond and into the distance,
Everything fades from hushed sight,
The fire flickers here inside warm,
Grey is the ruler,
Ice on the pond, sky, everything,
Fading to grey like the mood,
In this music contentment rested lies,
Contemplating shower and get out,
Soon I'll be hanging christmas lights,
Some snow storm laden Decorati,
As breath becomes visible,
And cold stings me to the bones,
Every inhalation speaks of Winter,
Here in the quiet life at home,
We'll cuddle tonight and just look,
And maybe I'll sing like Elvis,
I guess we all miss that guy,
They say to him Christmas was King,
At least of holidays,
Right now it's just the view falling out the window,
The closed in comfort,
Of the faded snow fall sky,
Is it just me,
Or is the whole world closer,
Hidden in the fade of the fall?

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 12/02/2002

Author's Comments:
Just the way it feels right now, a relaxed day,
reminiscing of the Thanksgiving special we taped while
we were away and watched last night, and the calm rested feel
of today as the snow falls outside.

In The Frozen Howling Night:

The truck moves slowly,
Jostled by high winds,
The white snow blows sideways,
Furiously flying past the windshield,
All about is dark and treacherously slippery,
With fools racing on the left,
Trying to sight the twin tracks,
Yawning furiously after midnight,
Gulping coffee in desperation,
As your yawning watering eyes seek sense,
Out of a world of red tail lights,
Dancing in and out of flying white,
The radio a stuttering static companion,
Somewhere in the frozen night,
Stop by the blue sign turning right,
Step out and the blast hits your face,
Snowflies race into your eyes,
Leaving wet drops on exposed skin,
All to the delight of rushing frozen wind,
You strain leaning towards the lighted doors,
Rest stop haven of tooth jangling relief,
And as you batten the snaps and buttons,
Soon to do battle with the freezing dark once more,
Still you know a bit of wonder,
Somehow there is beauty in the furious white,
As you struggle off crunching snow under your feet,
Charging ahead once more to the campaign,
With sleep and caffeine and driving,
On a winter storm lake effect night.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 12/01/2002

Author's Comments:
We arrived back home from my Brother's place at
two in the morning this morning, having battled through
a powerful lake effect blizzard in Southwestern Michigan,
Fighting snow and sleep and traffic valiantly, we had
prevailed.


Some excellent sites to see snow:

Mount Washington

Buffalo

Eagle

Big Bear

Washington

The Mount Washington site is spectacular!

I ran into this around Paw Paw, Michigan, here is today's forcast for Paw Paw:

Weather Underground Forecast - Paw Paw, MI