The Great Pumpkin Is Real...

The Great Pumpkin Is Real...

I saw it in plain sight,
It was three hundred pounds,
No joke,
No boast,
The Great Pumpkin landed in our front yard.

Funny thing,
He always had his back to us,
In daylight that is,
Wouldn't show his face,
Not to a single ghoul,
Ghost,
Goblin,
Skeleton,
Vampire,
Nor witch.

No magic was powerful enough,
Not even when the veil was thin,
Not until kissed by the rays of Harvest Moon,
For at night that Great Pumpkin,
He came alive!

I heard his secret late one Halloween night,
Long after children were abed,
Thrashing in candy throes,
Trying desperately to sleep.

"I believe in Linus you see,
I must visit a different pumpkin patch each year,
For some day,
There will be a little boy,
With a blanket and a girl,
It will be up to me to save her faith."

I wish I could believe in the Amazing Linus,
Who could make a toy piano sound like Mozart,
With one thumb still in his mouth.

I hope the Great Pumpkin finds him someday,
Only to save her faith.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 10/25/2016

Grasshopper Tracks...

Post by AquarianM on Mar 4, 2005 at 2:12am

Grasshopper Tracks...

Hot and sunshine beaten,
The grass is tall over our heads,
Wandering along the rusted rails and timbers,
Grasshoppers bouncing off our ankles step by step.

Sneakers tied tight over tube socks,
Birds were flying over and perching on wires,
I remember the oil-browned poles with blue and white glass insulators,
How the wires could sing at times the birds grew wary.

Garter snakes slithered off into the grass harmless,
Pocket compass and toy binoculars,
What kinds and colors of stones best fill your pockets,
Footpads in bicycle world with un-wound watches.

Wade through the pricker bushes pulling burrs out of socks,
Climbing trees for a lookout or to stare down clouds,
It was a lucky day when the trail ended in watermelon slices on the porch,
And hide 'n seek was the show for the night by lightning bug lights.

July had just started and tomorrow was the lake,
Corn on the cob and hot dogs with lemonade,
Digging up clams from the mud and getting dog-shake splattered,
Grasshoppers bouncing off our ankles step by step.

I wish I could burn THAT in a board with a magnifying glass.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 03/04/2005

A Single Voice...

Post by AquarianM on Jan 5, 2005 at 4:57pm

A Single Voice...

 

Will there be a sound,
The peal of thunder is just upon the verge,
Lightning flashing all about,
The cracked bell tolling wildly in the gale,
Ghosts swarm the harbor and ride a swift steed,
All about the East headstones twitch and Earth rumbles,
Spinning, spinning so that smoke rises,
Amidst the falling snow,
Shall we hear a single voice?

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 01/05/2005

Words Of Water...

Jan 9, 2005 at 6:40pm

Words Of Water...

It was a black wall moving fast,
Surging upon the beach at 500 miles per hour,
Sweeping like the broom of God,
Amidst all the wailing and cacophonous roar,
Driving it's own wind of change.

I could write a thousand words on each of one hundred fifty thousand deaths.

Instead I write these few words on another current,
That after the blackness swirled back out to sea,
Hundreds and then thousands and then millions gave,
Some going and some sharing,
Incredible need reaches incredible numbers of hearts.

There is a wall in another sea greater than a tsunami.

From deep in the Ocean of Hearts a great wave arises,
Lapping the shores of grief over and over,
Common people and un-common people alike,
Hands and hearts extended amidst a sea of tears,
Is a groundswell of sympathy and kindness and compassion.

Words of water indeed...

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 01/08/2005

Time Of Fire And Gold:

Post by AquarianM on Oct 13, 2004 at 10:09am

Time Of Fire And Gold:

 

Everywhere, everywhere,
The leaves are burning without smoke,
Sun or grey skies the fields glint of gold and harvest,
The land is calling to be taken and I walk the hills and paths in my dreams,
The honking of vast clouds of geese circling whirling over corn,
Blackbirds fill the trees and wires,
The burning bush is rampant and replicated innumerably,
I landed in a field of harvested corn with still neat rows,
Walking in the morning that should be silent,
But the geese are speaking in volumes and I long for open hills,
Free of the concrete burdens of clocks and city,
This is no time of life for lifeless lines and angles,
Give me the wild disarray of red and orange and gold leaves,
The sprawled leaves lying in evidence of harvested corn,
The endless wisps and blankets of grey fall clouds,
Breath on the wind and following the sun and moon,
Haunted nights speak to me of dreams and changing guard,
I am ancient in the fields and reminiscent of fire in stone circles,
Of stealth in the woods and grasses and wielded hoe and scythe,
Of dancing to echoing drums by firelight 'round golden sheaves,
Watched by the blazing yellow of Jack 'O Lantern eyes and such ilk,
Silent in the moment of drawn bow in my mind like Orion in the night,
The world is starting to turn here in earnest,
The world is ablaze,
I am bathed in the time of Fire and Gold.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 10/13/2004

Author's Comments:
Fall is an incredible gift.

Inscribed In Stone...

Inscribed In Stone...

Words are everything.

Read it again;
Words are everything.

They make us.
They break us.
They echo us to the future,
Long after our dust is eaten by Earth.

When we are stars,
Shining in the depths of night,
Words give voice to our silent light.

See and remember,
See and hear,
If you can read the stars,
Inscribed in stone.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 10/20/2016

For our stars gone to the sky.

*Side note: We just had to put down our 19-year old cat. He was a very mellow and intelligent guy, and of course a total foodie. Indy, you get a star up there too, old man. 

The Quiet "Why?"

Post by AquarianM on Jan 13, 2005 at 1:18am

The Quiet "Why?"

Don't whisper that, or even hint.
It's no place to shine the sun.

I'm half-believing, half fearing.
Unable to admit to myself that, that...

My world isn't that way, it just isn't.
Everything will be just fine, in time.

Don't whisper that, or even hint.
It's no place to shine the sun.

I'm half-believing, half fearing.
Unable to admit to myself that, that...

I refuse to see the reflection off of tin foil hats.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 01/13/2005

Celebratory Lights...

Post by AquarianM on Jan 14, 2005 at 2:14am

Celebratory Lights...

In the January darkness cold breath is rising away,
God's house is full of candles tonight,
I'll never stop looking up at them,
Stars up on high crisp and clear,
These celebratory lights,
A season of rest,
Sleeping frost,
Silent.


AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 01/14/2005

A Majority of Angels...

Post by AquarianM on Jan 13, 2005 at 1:53am

A Majority of Angels...

Wings aren't all they've been cracked up to be,
Some darlings caught between moments whisper softly,
Dear prayers rise up like smoke in the night.

How many hearts really just want everyone and everything to be alright?

The majority of Angels stand between human heartbeats,
Just one second away, just all around you,
Looking out through the carefully-labeled toughness mask.

It's something you have to count with insight.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 01/13/2005

Stars and Stones...

Post by AquarianM on Jan 14, 2005 at 2:37am

Stars and Stones...

Is it something tribal or just a hint of survival,
A place in the heart so dark and lonely only God could fathom,
That black hole of a missing soul gone too far from heaven,
Just a dream I see when a certain stone tells me to believe,
Wrapped up in silk and flying in the future,
Dancing like a dervish under my silly skin,
A dream of Neptune for children of Uranus, Saturn rising,
Garnets and amethyst in the night,
Polished and shining and forever recorded,
We were poetry whose page burned,
An ancient ritual of the Spring's return,
Whispered in a far too brief dream,
Like the fallen leaf turning scarlet,
Too bright and pretty for forever to bear,
Still, we once were there.

It was written in the stars...

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 01/14/2005

Borrowing Arthur's Car Park...

Borrowing Arthur's Car Park...

I know we're in America,
Silly,
But when it's THAT space,
You simply must say it in that fashion,
There's just nothing else for it.

Have you spilled the pages yet?

Of course I mean Hitchikers' Guide To The Galaxy,
What other pages could there be?
Did you lose your Babble Fish?
Is it sick or drunk?

We went to the International Society for Astrological Research conference,
Where we proceeded to borrow Arthur's car park for two days.

Arthur is off in Space again you see,
You can tell by the missing towel and bathrobe.

I hobbled,
I wobbled,
My knee was just ripped to junk,
But I have stars in my eyes,
Have heard all the astrology of elections I could bear,
And wish for all the world to have a return to Normality.

Little white mice squeaking at my feet have to be better than this,
I'm as depressed as a hyper-intelligent robot opening doors,
For no one told me that Vogon Poetry was portrayed in American politics,
But there it is in orange emails.

Of course,
Earth might be destroyed,
If one of them wins by 42 votes,
If I could only get to the local galatic planning office!

I'm sure the plans were on public display in another star system,
For they seem to have been written for years and years.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 10/18/2016

Author's Note:
We did attend ISAR, and we did get parking space 42. As to the rest, only Wikileaks and Anonymous know.

It Was A Fish Floater...

Post by AquarianM on Jan 23, 2005 at 7:17pm

© 01/22/2005 by Daniel A. Stafford

(Inspired by the movie "Silver City")

To Be A Child of Muses...

Post by AquarianM on Jan 25, 2005 at 1:21am

To Be A Child of Muses...

Who else could see a dust speck floating in a ray of sunshine,
Single it out and see it as a star in some Lilliputian universe of dreams,
Speak it's name upon the wind even as it was slipped into your whisper ear?

In the shadow mind with your heart-eye open to listen...

Who could see a yellow flower growing alongside tarmac at seventy five,
Tell the whole world of every breeze and raindrop each petal touched,
Whisper out every secret of a life lived in one place all in a single springtime like a child?

Swimming the current of sentimentality like a dolphin racing a great white clipper ship...

Who else could stand upon a flying thistle seed,
Brush a kiss upon the cheek of the amber Moon,
Then spin a pillow story around the crown of a young child well loved?

Seeing strength in the keenest eye of make-believe Paradises...

Yet somehow these velvet visions become real,
Watercolored upon the pages of history where only Love wins in the end,
Breathed out in insight-guided whispers of inner-speak...

Simple things in the world of a child of Muses.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 01/25/2005

January's Sign...

Post by AquarianM on Jan 27, 2005 at 11:52am

January's Sign...

I heard it on the radio as the tiny snow flakes fell,
Just as she was singing "Kiss Me," the D.J. broke the news,
Something I can only wish I saw...

The tiny lake effect flakes were dancing,
Road humming under my tires about going home,
Sun was shining behind me East through the thinning clouds...

Cold and clearing,
Salt spray painting my windshield like fog,
I was just about to sing along with the chorus...

"I wish we hadn't missed it,"
She said in her best smooth radio voice,
"...I hear they're very, very rare..."

"The beautiful snow rainbow everyone's been calling about."

Some people complain about January in Chicago,
I just wish I hadn't missed it.

January's sign...

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 01/27/2005

Author's Comments:
True story this morning, listening to The Light, www.WLIT.com

You Are NOT Alone...

Post by AquarianM on Feb 5, 2005 at 10:43am

You Are NOT Alone...

There was a bad whisper coming from the high hill, just a lie on the wind.

Followed by many, and many more.

You chose NOT to listen while you spoke of sunshine,
Dreamt of warm hearts and caring arms being a global fashion,
Sowing the seeds that would devour the bull refuse in a blaze of green and sunshine,
You wrote poems that spoke of a spirit of giving and caring and inclusion.

Eyes are opening with every whiff of bad wind blowing, believe it.

A thousand years of peace is not a dream - just a prayer waiting to happen,
And you stand there with love in your heart for Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall...
Wondering why you only hear dark and see dark and dream light,
Waiting for tears to end and people to "get" embracing everyone - instead of coloring circles of enclosure.

Don't just change the channel...turn it off, leave pages un-turned, go into a different paradigm.

If you look in the right places there are thousands and millions awake,
See the right weathervane - it's racing in bit torrents like a flood,
The congregation rising from where the fooled say only fools live,
But you can see that the finger pointing for lunacy is being done by the insane.

Look up - look out and about - see all the sunshine and cool breezes....you are NOT alone.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 02/05/2005

A Short Bio...

Post by AquarianM on Feb 5, 2005 at 10:42am

A Short Bio...

I was born, I breathed, that breath,
- it was filled with the mist off a Midwestern river,
I walked the Earth and read the people,
I wrote,
I write, and I live -

...and I want everyone to live.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 02/05/2005

The Ghost Bird Of Plainfield...

Post by AquarianM on Sep 2, 2004 at 12:10pm

The Ghost Bird Of Plainfield...

It was something graceful,
The way the tree leaves streamed with the afternoon breeze,
The sharp slant of early afternoon sunshine,
Easy old music on the baby blue cream white and chrome radio,
Retro with dials and red hands and yellow numbers,
A wasp flew by and two butterflies,
Three flies and a swift flock of pigeons raced over the rooftops,
Grey and speckled white and seeming swift,
I looked to neighbor Ron's swaying red flowers and purple tall grasses,
It was then that I saw it unrecognized at first,
Hovering at first one red bloom then another then gone,
It took a moment to register,
Just three tiny inches with invisible wings,
In that flash of fleet beauty,
I had witnessed the appearance of the hummingbird.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 09/02/2004

Author's Comments:
Instant replay via poetry.

Labor Day Rain:

Post by AquarianM on Sep 6, 2004 at 10:50am

Labor Day Rain:

 

I kind of wonder if the edge of Frances is touching us here,
Thinking of far away friends scattered about the windy circle,
But here it's gentle rain and breezes blowing,
No hullabaloo in an unhurried morning,
Ducks on the pond and vast green view out the window,
Simply four Mallards paddling,
A little yellow tinge on leaves everywhere,
Yesterday's ride through the country as gold climbs down the soybeans,
I've thoughts of amber leaves and red and brown,
Of milkweed tufts burst free,
Of wandering the corn maze holding my wife's hand like children,
Of the passing of another year,
Amber moons with black cloud veils,
The occasional bat flying past,
Even in this season young hearts falling in love,
Caught in the hurricane of time,
Enjoying every rest of landing feet,
Yet for now the warm coffee calls me,
And Fall can wait another sleepy day.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 09/06/2004

Author's Comments:
Fleeting thoughts, a note from one of my nieces, a morning of reading poems after a wonderful day and night.

Broom Rider:

Post by AquarianM on Sep 15, 2004 at 3:13pm

Broom Rider:

 

I've often wondered if it was a cackle of glee,
Or a twitch of black cat claw on the backside,.
That lifted the first broom off the cauldron lip.

Perhaps the long green stockings,
And whippy black cloak,
Just trappings to hide picking broom splinters,
Out of something "nether" or such.

What they don't show you in corn bristle assembly class,
Is how to wrap milkweed fiber over toad skins,
So you can cling to an upside down spinning yew spear,
After you blast up the chimney in a puff of soot and sparks,
Big screeching black tom spike hackled and all.

The big question of the day,
Corn strings or long straw,
Batwing leather or worn old scalps,
The best method of cleaning black wax off cracked skulls,
Which type of toadstool stew to use for broomsores,
Or the best angle from which to cross an ambered gibbous moon.

Just remember to tip the vampire valets,
After you finish landing in the pumpkin patch,
Never let them catch you out racing ghosts,
And make sure you have a solid supply of sandpaper,
Before you take off for any spell casting match,
Standing naked and green under the stars,
There in the pentagram of a Druid circle.

There's a reason Fall brings out slang like,
Cold as a witch's...well,
Considering the entry fee is getting kicked in the face by a unicorn,
Is it any wonder you'll eat only small things stewed?

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 09/15/2004

Author's Comments:
For some ghastly reason, I'm looking forward to Fall and Halloween.

Even The Tiniest Place Needs The Sun...

Even The Tiniest Place Needs The Sun...

Ah, the gifts of muses,

To hear their call is to see life with a poet's eyes,

That permanent magnifying glass,

The very air in front of your sight,

It bends time and space,

Makes them pull on your heart in such a way,

Such a way indeed.

You who read me often know it;

A flower never moves,

Nor the blade of grass worshiping at its root,

Unlike the dog,

Or the butterfly,

The world is a small place for a tree or flower,

Not much less for the spider who weaves,

A web for just one season amidst its leaves.

This world has almost lost its flowers,

Might never notice a blade of grass,

But for the sight of poets,

Like fairies and elves,

The small world would be lost.

This then is the true gift of the Muses,

To bring sunlight to the existence of every little thing,

To bring depth and meaning to each moment,

So that all of life receives just enough hurrah,

For attention and love fuel this universe.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

© 10/12/2016