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