Crystal Mystery

 

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	6/15/2000 4:45:37 AM 8/30/2020 6:01:47 PM	816

Crystal Mystery

A crystal spire did gleam, in his eyes a dream.
His vision was so sure. His spells were wound so pure.

Strive for the sky.

The ebb and flow of the tides, an example of the rhythm his vision rides.
Up, down, yes, no, you will, you won't.
It was never quite clear, would the crystal spire ever appear?

A quarter mile high.

The wizard would cast his grandest spell, hoping he is to do so well.
"And yea, they shall live in my crystal spire, the highest anyone could ever retire."
Sailing a sea of concrete, a vision in glass, a magical feat.

To live in the sky.

A bundle so huge this spell requires, that with it you could light bonfires.
Ever guessing could he get the loan, the newsmen said let us be shown.
The highest tower upon the Earth, if you succeed you will give it birth.

Who could guess why?

The origin of this spell, the home of the newsmen and an old subterranean spell.
The place as it stands has become obscure, but the poet knows it as it were.
I watched the articles in the news, I see a tinderbox missing but a single fuse.

To live where seagulls and eagles fly.

A spire of crystalline beautiful glass, incredible suspended mass.
The old place that birthed the news, awaiting the spark, the lighting of the fuse.
Though the ground was in old times penetrated so deep, now in the clouds will reside this keep.

A secret I shall cry!

Can you guess what I'm telling to you? I tell you, this story is true.
At the old home of the Tribune, the crystal spire shall play a tune.
Electronic prayers of HDTV, shall from it's pinnacle be set free.

I know why!

Because the wizard must be higher than the sky, and will continue to try.
He'll bargain with the gods of finance, the lenders he'll romance.
He'll take dough from Asia, even Anastasia.

To be the highest on the fly!

The keeper of the Crystal Tower, shall dwell in the sky, keeper of power.
And the saga continues, hour by hour, day by day, in the news.
The Mystery of the Crystal Tower, will it ever see light and power?

AquarianM

By Daniel A. Stafford
(C)06/15/2000

Author's Comments

The tale of Seven South Dearborn, Chicago Loop. A relatively unknown developer is trying to build the world's tallest building on the site of the original Chicago Tribune building, built by master architects Holabird & Roche in 1902, and controversial in
it's day because of the exceptional depth of it's basement, designed to house the great printing presses of the Tribune. It was feared that excavation to the planned depth might undermine the foundations of the neighboring buildings. What was controversial for being the deepest building of it's day will be replaced by a Building that looks like a circular spire of crystalline glass controversial in our day for being a tribute to sheer height and expense. The top floors are slated for broadcasting HDTV signals from 450 foot tall antennas and there will be 350 luxury condos higher up than any residences on Earth from local ground level. The rest will be offices and retail space, with parking below. Not many are aware yet of the sites' history, because the Tribune apparently hasn't resided there since the 1920's or so. Fascinating, isn't it? Mysterious, a crystal tower of mystical magickal power.

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	6/15/2000 4:45:37 AM 8/30/2020 6:01:47 PM	816

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Daniel A. Stafford	aqmstaffo@mailbag.com	www.mailbag.com/users/aqmstaffo/index.html

One Of My Dad's Stories "Picking Up A Load Of Wood Slabs"

I just updated a story from my childhood and thought I would share it here for my family.

                       Picking Up A Load Of Wood Slabs

                                   January 29, 2015

    On a warm summer day in the late 1940's while I was at my grandparent's farm Grandpa Stafford asked me if I would like to go for a ride with him. I said sure Grandpa.

    Grandpa and I went to the barn and Grandpa brought Dolly and Ginger out of the barn. (his horses) He had me hold them by the halters while he went back for their harnesses. Soon Grandpa had them hitched to the hay wagon.

    Grandpa and I climbed up on the wagon and we started off down the road. When we got to the corner, we turned to the right and kept going. In a few minutes, we turned into the driveway of the Flying Dollar Ranch. Grandpa pulled the wagon up to a pile of wood slabs. He told me that he was supposed to pick them up and we could use them for firewood.

    For those of you that aren't familiar with how trees become lumber, wood slabs are the first cut off the outside of a tree. They still have bark on one side. Sometimes, the first slab is so narrow that they throw away the second cut too and it goes in with the slap pile.

    Soon we were loading the slabs on the wagon. We were about half way through loading the pile when I heard grandpa let out a howl. He had been bitten by a bee. Thinking nothing of it, he went right back to work loading. The next thing I know he is howling again, then again. The next thing I know there is a swarm of bees coming out of the pile of slabs.

    Well I'm no genius, but I took off running and Grandpa wasn't far behind me. We were clear across the road before we stopped. Grandpa was hurting from several stings. I lucked out and didn't get any. Apparently they had concentrated on Grandpa. I always thought it was funny that the bees hadn't attack the horses too. We decided to wait for awhile before going back. Grandpa said, "I don't think were going to get the rest of the slabs today.

    After about a half hour, we went up to the house and Grandpa told the man there what had happened and said, " were going to leave the rest of the slabs for now."

    He told the man that he recommended that the slabs be left until winter when the bees would be dormant. We climbed back up on the wagon and started back to the farm. It was plain that Grandpa was hurting.

    When we got back to the farm, Grandpa unhitched the horses and took off their harness. He told me to put the horses in their stalls in the barn while he put the harness up. We left the wagon by the firewood pile so we could unload it later. Grandpa said the slabs could wait until later and we went to the house.

    When Grandpa had told Grandma what had happened, she asked him where he was stung. He told her on the back, his chest, his arms and one on his leg. She told him to take off his shirt and went to get something. I think it was alcohol that she put on the stings after washing them first. When she had taken care of the ones on his back, chest and arms, she had him roll up his pants leg and did the one on his leg too.

    I think that was the earliest I had ever seen Grandpa quit work for the day. Grandpa wasn't a complainer, but it was obvious that he didn't feel very good and the stings were hurting him. Grandpa had put his shirt back on, but had rolled the sleeves up. You could see that the stings had really swollen up. Needless to say that wasn't a very happy night on the farm. However; the wood slab trip will always remain etched in my memory.

By: Larry O Stafford

Palace Of Glass And Steel

 

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	6/13/2000 3:47:31 AM 8/31/2020 6:28:10 AM	852

Palace Of Glass And Steel

---

There is a story, full of strife, it was a crossing, by chance in life.

The lady doctor, spared no dime, the famous architect, ahead of time.

A friend's house dining, they did partake, fateful meeting, no mistake.

The lady fair, in her eccentric way, asked the architect, to give his say.



"Have you a young architect, within your firm, to build a house, can you confirm?"

"My lady dear, never fear, I shall design it myself, within the year."

The architect dreamed a wonderful dream, glass and steel, which would gleam.

In his slow, methodical way, he spared no expense, he had his say.



Like the great towers, in cities fair, which he had envisioned, up in the air.

The incredible house, out in the wood, slowly took shape, it was looking good.

Rising costs did escalate, beyond estimates, determined by fate.

The heiress felt she was being rooked, she saw her purse as being cooked.



Letters she'd written were all the rage, the architect had every page.

In the end, she couldn't budge, the payments were due, said the judge.

She paid her way beyond the price, but truth be told the house was nice.

She took control after he'd been paid, they wouldn't speak 'til past the grave.



Changes she made to spite the design, to pull it all within her own line.

As time went on, she lived through the flood, the river near, the house boiled her blood.

The architect had created a palace to last beyond his day, had secured his fame, had had his way.

The garden of sculpture was quite a sight, which should have been to her delight.



I'll sell it to you, she told the Italian from the House of Lords.

He now has a place to keep wooden swords.

A place of beauty back within the woods, Tranquil and serene without her goods.

You'll listen to my poems before you buy, and when you are done I shall say goodbye.



To the palace of glass and steel. Yes, I shall retire to my Italian villa after the deal.

The Lord had to listen for half an hour, to translated poems from the elder flower.

Eloquently she quoted verse, and he walked away with a lighter purse.

The dour Lady died that very same year, and now the Lord takes vacation here.



Another time the Palace was drowned, but the Lord brought it back and held his ground.

The palace of glass and steel, has outlived mistress and creator, was quite the deal.

And now the crowds go wandering through, admiring the work that the architect drew.

Buried in the same hallowed ground, the heiress and the architect can be found.



At times I wonder if they now speak of the place, now they're beyond all time and space.

And the good Lord vacations well, and I think the house was built quite swell.

A tranquil place ahead of it's times, a serene and haunting beauty in it's lines.

Many years may it last, and may the Lord hold it fast.



AquarianM



By Daniel A. Stafford

(C) 06/13/2000



Farnsworth House Website

Author's Comments

A tribute to the Farnsworth house in Plano, IL and the people who brought it to be. There is a fascinating story there. I just saw it this weekend. And it is now owned by an Italian who holds a seat in the English House of Lords. A good and kind man, I hear. The heiress who commissioned it's creation spent her last days translating Italian poetry to the English language in her Italian villa. She died the year the house was sold.
###################################################################
As of this year, the house has been bought by the State of Illinois, and is now a state-owned historical site. Tours are available through the web site linked above here. (09/07/2001)

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	6/13/2000 3:47:31 AM 8/31/2020 6:28:10 AM	852

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Daniel A. Stafford	aqmstaffo@mailbag.com	www.mailbag.com/users/aqmstaffo/index.html

The Half-Mark On The Journey:

 

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	6/12/2000 12:33:31 PM 9/22/2020 6:32:57 PM	768

The Half-Mark On The Journey:

As I walk down the great road of life, I find many branches, many choices.
There are street signs there, pointing to this, pointing to that.
Each part of the journey that I view, these are the reasons my heart rejoices.
And though there are times, when to a beautiful sign, I must tip my hat,
And move on by without turning, that does not forgive a certain yearning.

All of my friends face a slow decay, my parents, my lover, and Me I must say.
A glorious race in which we participate, as we run headlong to our fate.
I look back at the things I've done. Sometimes, better judgment won.
The branches of the road I did decide. From these choices, nowhere to hide.
As all others, I take my turn, upon this road, here to learn.

In the middle of the race I stop and pause, less mindful now of a cause.
I see old friends upon their roads, and wonder, how do they carry such loads,
Gracefully, they seem to walk, and of what is in their hearts, they seldom talk.
I see all the branches I might have missed, behind me, kissed by the light of these angels.

I miss all of you, even though you are not gone. Your just further away because your road is long.
If my words are ever set to song, I pray that your names ring out like a gong,
Set in memory, carved in stone, because of you I was never, ever alone.
You know who you are, those who've touched my heart, remembered since the very start.

I bless you upon you journey through, and hope you find sweet things true.
Every luck, every hope that I can give, I send to you all, that you may live,
Well. My heart is in it, because all of yours were. I hope I can return enough that you all may win it.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 06/12/2000

Author's Comments

As I get older, I see more and more that life is finite. It becomes clearer and clearer. I am very thankful for those who have  chosen to share their time with me here. Without them, I don't think I could ever have made it this far, in many, many ways. This is a tribute to them all. And in a way, a prayer for all of us to live the rest of life's journey well. Do things you can live with yourself easily after. It feels good. Do things others can live with you easily after. It feels better.

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	6/12/2000 12:33:31 PM 9/22/2020 6:32:57 PM	768

Author	Email	Web
Daniel A. Stafford	aqmstaffo@mailbag.com	www.mailbag.com/users/aqmstaffo/index.html

Total Comments: 1

Comments
APoetsPerspective			6/12/2000 12:56:19 PM
Very well put Daniel! I liked it. -- John

Black Magick Blue

 

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	6/10/2000 12:42:29 PM 9/30/2020 6:50:33 AM	838

Black Magick Blue

There’s a way, that I used to be,
A very sad way, and I couldn’t break free.
That was the case until you came to me,
And I gave my heart unto thee.

Old memories hiding at the bottom of my soul,
Long dark clouds that I couldn’t control.
I have clear skies now, because of you,
But until then, I was black magick blue.

Used to be, I hid in a dream,
An evil nightmare used to make me want to scream.
Now I dream of having fun,
Oh, yes I have a life in the sun.

Older times might have taken their toll,
Left some mud at the bottom of my soul,
But it’s washing away because you’re true,
I’m living without the black magick blues.

That old black magick had a hold on me,
Until you came along and set me free.
Now I can write in oh so pretty ways,
Because your white magick has soothed younger days.

I’ll tell you now, you’re the one that I love,
Yes a greater gift from above.
I’m hoping now, never to rue,
‘Cause the old black magick is scared of you.

I’m finally free of the black magick blues.
Because I receive your "I Love You's".

AquarianM

By Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 06/10/2000

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	6/10/2000 12:42:29 PM 9/30/2020 6:50:33 AM	838

Author	Email	Web
Daniel A. Stafford	aqmstaffo@mailbag.com	www.mailbag.com/users/aqmstadffo/index.html

Total Comments: 1

Comments
Daniel A. Stafford	aqmstaffo@mailbag.com		6/10/2000 12:51:06 PM
I forgot to fill the "Author's Comments." But here they are, like Magick. Ain't e-magick grand?  This Is dedicated to my sweet love, Saren. You saved me, Baby. Dan

House On The Water

 

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	6/9/2000 4:53:28 AM 9/30/2020 1:09:48 PM	748

House On The Water

A new place. One in the sun.
Happy, shining, joyful and fun.
Love lives here, in our new home.
The memories we will make as we no longer roam.

My love and I have a house on the water.

It's only a pond, a quarter mile long,
but white herons fly to here, and walk right along,
the geese are there honking, the ducks it attracts,
And little birds entertain our cats.

We call the windows kitty T.V.
We're building a home, my sweetheart and me.
We'll fill it with sunshine, with love and joy.
A time soon to come, we'll share with my boy.

As I admire, the door there that stands,
in my love's office, I hung and trimmed with these hands.
Each little piece that I built for us,
extends my thinking of love I can trust.

I open the blinds most every morn,
that look over the pond which was by mankind given form.
It seems like an ocean though it is quite small,
And I rejoice in it's beauty, which to me stands tall.

Yes the house on the water is where we'll be,
The love of my life, my son, and me.
On sunshine mornings we'll be happy and warm,
And I'll be a poet, giving words sweet form.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 06/09/2000

Author's Comments

My love and I just bought what is my first home and our first home together this last February. We've spent hours putting in little touches here, big touches there. It fits us both, expresses the combination of our lives and passions. It is unfinished in a few details here, a little piece there, but already quite lovely. It is filled with light and the view over the pond is fantastic. There is a rookery three miles away and in the mornings the white herons and occasionally a gray fly in and wade at the waters' edge. There is a lot of glass and the largest number of windows face the pond. I am happy here. I started writing here. I think I'll stay and continue with us and with writing forever.

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	6/9/2000 4:53:28 AM 9/30/2020 1:09:48 PM	748

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A Candle Calls Sweetly

 

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	6/8/2000 2:27:02 PM 10/13/2020 12:19:14 PM	888

A Candle Calls Sweetly

Late at night, there is something in the air.
The moon shines on the horizon, stars twinkling and fair.
A soft breeze of salty ocean air,

Whispers in my ear.

The sand is smooth, washed out white in the night.
I sit on my towel, with one candle for light.
The sound of ocean waves, their silvery sight,

Rhythmically I hear.

I think to myself, deep inside.
Inside me I go, a natural ride.
Here there is something, but nowhere to hide.

No need for fear.

I watch the white caps silvered by moon,
And dream of ships, sailing to the tune,
Of the waves that forever, dance, sparkle, and grace me in june.

Wish you were here.

Where, with creaking masts and gently flapping sails,
Could we go, without travails,
In places tropical, leaning on rails.

For me to hold near.

An ocean of water, stars, moonlight, canvas and wood,
and the rocking of all the places I've stood,
Could never match how the love of you has done me such good.

My sweet Seer.

Yes the call of the candle, that flickers and shines,
Could not match your love, the finest of wines.
A smile over the waves, dreaming of times.

Yes, A candle calls sweetly, here near the waves.
A nightly ritual, because thinking of you saves,
My heart and sanity, and the way my world behaves.

I will hold you soon, here under the moon.

AquarianM

By Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 06/08/2000

Author's Comments

I loved the romantic beach scene. I wanted to visit it again. This helps me to go there.

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	6/8/2000 2:27:02 PM 10/13/2020 12:19:14 PM	888

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A Tribute To Art And Light

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	6/8/2000 4:11:02 AM 9/25/2020 8:19:17 PM	937

A Tribute To Art And Light

Thank you Art, for pointing the way.
Thank you Light, for helping me see.

Without you Art, I wouldn't have known.
Without you Light, I wouldn't have grown.

Art guided me, gave me direction.
Light gave me a home with a view.

I am a poet now, thanks to the two.
Without both of you, that wouldn't be really true.

Led there by the one, the other gives a place in the sun.
You know it's quite fun, getting these bits of creativity done.

I must say, it is no trifle, when your creativity hides in a stifle.
But now here my words are, thanks to the twain. Because of you, we have starlight on rain.

There are titles now that have found a home, and now my mind is free to roam.
So I'll remember my Art, as I work in the night, And I'll use it to grace the domain of Light.

Dedicated to my friend Art who showed me the way.
And my new friend John, who gave my work a place to stay.

I wouldn't be here, and neither would my work, without both of you.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 086/18/2000
**********************************

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	6/8/2000 4:11:02 AM 9/25/2020 8:19:17 PM	937

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Total Comments: 2

Comments
APoetsPerspective			6/18/2000 6:52:48 AM
I am both honored and flattered. Thanks, -j
Debbie Hunt	hu6nt@yahoo.com.au		10/8/2001 8:46:13 PM
This one put a smile on my face. Very clever, Dan! Debbie

 

Forward Motion

 

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	6/7/2000 1:01:28 PM 9/27/2020 4:22:42 PM	852

Forward Motion

You know, we dream and look up into the night.
We use it for romance, enjoy the sights.
Wow, sweetheart, see the pretty lights?

The stars are more than that. Worlds await.

You know, we currently contemplate, slowly move to our fate, but is it too late?
There are places to explore, lives to live, beyond the cradle.
Hopefully we make it soon, before endings shall destiny ladle.

I look up and wish for time, things I hope to see.
But if time blinds me, then I've at least helped foundations be.

I put my heart into helping my people grow beyond one small world.
I said so openly, I have hidden no words for popularity.
Opinions I have many. This one is not negotiable.

There is more for us. It will be here soon.
Then we shall dance feather light, upon the silvery moon.
Yes we'll see Jupiter as half the sky, as Europa draws icily nigh, living celestial boon.
The rings of Saturn shall entertain us, Titans' wealth uncovered.

Floating in the asteroids, surprises at every turn.
We shall travel beyond our star, and for an eternity learn.
Life goes on. Love goes on. We must grow.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

06/07/2000

Author's Comments

I'm a huge promoter of exploring space. I think our future both depends on it and will be immensely enriched by it. I hope to see much of it's early days in my lifetime. I've already witnessed it's birth. You know, the stars are in all the colors of the  rainbow. Diamonds are in all colors, too. They are just washed white by a few miles of air and preferential marketing in the popular media.

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	6/7/2000 1:01:28 PM 9/27/2020 4:22:42 PM	852

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Total Comments: 2

Comments
Janine Daniel	spinnys@hotmail.com	www.spinnys.com	6/25/2000 11:53:48 AM
Dan, I'd like to think that one day I can soar into the clouds and explore the night skies. If I really have to I'll even accept doing it in a spaceship ... :o) I love this poem.
Claud	klugecc@jps.net		7/19/2000 11:07:01 PM
Hi It occurred to me that as poets we tend to be somewhat self-centered at times and thereby miss a lot of good things that others have to offer. I, therefore, have undertaken to read and comment on all the poems posted on the 50 most veiwed and 50 most recent catagories. I can find some good in the poorest of poetry and something to critisize in the best of poetry. The project may take some time but the fact that you are reading this should indicate that I've read this piece and enjoyed, at least, some if not all of what you ‘ve written. I'll leave the judging to the experts. It.s enough for me to know the you cared enough to share your work with us all. I would also encourage you all to share your thoughts with me and all the others that have contributed to this website. Just remember: A SONG IS NOT A SONG ‘TIL YOU SING IT A BELL IS NOT A BELL ‘TIL YOU RING IT LOVE IS NOT PUT IN YOUR HEART TO STAY LOVE IS NOT LOVE ‘TIL YOU GIVE IT AWAY Claud

Nostalgia Invasion

 

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	6/7/2000 3:25:36 AM 10/3/2020 7:09:15 PM	743

Nostalgia Invasion

Lifetimes, hard to pass, it was a gas.
Remembering so hard you cry to kiss them goodbye,
The old times. The sweet times.

Can you go back and watch Neil take that small black and white step?
Can you feel the power still of Apollo?

Can you see the cars so huge, a moving refuge?
Can you see cruising the streets, starlight meets?

Can you find a time before bits, to frustrate your wits, with challenge?
Can you see an old friend, looking back to then, and admire their youth?

How can they know, those who now grow, the awesome times they missed?
We must bear witness. We must give fitness, to the time we define.

Extoll the worth. We gave birth, to joyous days, musical ways, and freedoms that let all
that follow be. Remember the days we loved. They are worth every moment they took,
and had a beauty all their own. Carve the memories in stone.

You and I, my friend, we were back then, and now.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

(C) 06/07/2000

Author's Comments

There is a magic, to the decades I grew up in. An innocence that was just before my time. And one that lived in it. I think I'm far from the only one to feel this.....it bursts forth in my mind time and again. We sure had a great time to grow up in!

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	6/7/2000 3:25:36 AM 10/3/2020 7:09:15 PM	743

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Total Comments: 1

Comments
Sue	bttfly9@yahoo.com	http://www.geocities.com/Heartland/Garden/9843	7/23/2000 11:58:08 PM
Yes, it was a great time to grow up in. I think we appreciated life more back then too. Life was simpler. Now, time has to be shared and we find ourselves limited to enjoy and appreciate.

A Singular Peace In Simplicity

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	6/6/2000 12:09:11 PM 9/24/2020 4:20:40 PM	893

A Singular Peace In Simplicity

Sometimes, when the world is a complicated place,
I take my place, and live in the whirlwind.
Yes, I go a twirlin' with a smile upon my face.

Whispering for a singular peace in simplicity.
Wishing, oh wishing.

When what you want is right around the corner.
But the gates just aren't open.
Hold on, someone has the key.

Asking, for help from above, to find a simpler place and time, in my mind.
Smiling, oh smiling.

I can be here, but why not there? Or maybe I should just stare.
You know, I remember, the joys. I used to play with toys.

Remembering back, there was no lack, of peace in simplicity.
Dreaming, oh dreaming.

I listen to music, and hold an unknown yearning.
Maybe it's simpler things, that I should be learning.

In the future, I will try, to find a singular peace in simplicity, in my mind.
Hoping, oh hoping.

And how does your memory serve you today?
Have you found a simpler way?
If you care, when I find mine I'll share, so that you can join me there.

Basking in a singular peace found in simplicity.
Happy, oh happy.

With you for a friend, I feel I'll find it again.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C)2000

Wasn't it so much easier wih the mind of a child? You liked someone, you said so, no ulterior
motives, just fun. You were straight forward, never shy, never questioning. You knew what you
wanted. Little dreams were easier. I remember.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

(C) 06/06/2000

Author's Comments

I think this is pretty clear. It comes from a certain nostalgia, but it's one I think many of us share in today's world.

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Daniel A. Stafford	6/6/2000 12:09:11 PM 9/24/2020 4:20:40 PM	893

Author	Email	Web
Daniel A. Stafford	aqmstaffo@mailbag.com	www.mailbag.com/users/aqmstaffo/index.html

 

Translated Invalid

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	6/6/2000 11:43:55 AM 8/21/2020 12:14:13 AM	731

Translated Invalid

Many days, many ways, you don't hear what I say,
You hear it your own way.

Listening a lost art, isn't it time to start,
before I'm translated invalid?

Hear my prayers, my hopes and dreams,
Tell me what will become of me, it seems.

You know you are, my brightest star.
Without you the heavens become a dull place,
And though I go to the end of the universe,
yes, even so far.

I cannot see without your light, oh, my love,
for the tears of myself and angels has blinded my sight.
I'll see you again, feel your arms, oh yet up above.

Do you know the depths of me, you shall know the
torture it has been to lose your love. Back where I was.

Silent, alone, a voice in the dark.
Oh so hurtfully did I miss the mark.

Perhaps an angel will rescue me, yes oh set my soul quite free,
but that would still fall short of the spark.

I pray for your soul to keep it's lovely light, out there in the dark.
Even though I've been translated invalid.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 08/21/2000

Author's Comments

Remembering times past.....not all bright, not all dark, but there was certainly quite a spark. Remembrances of sorrows gone before.

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	6/6/2000 11:43:55 AM 8/21/2020 12:14:13 AM	731

Author	Email	Web
Daniel A. Stafford	aqmstaffo@mailbag.com	www.mailbag.com/users/aqmstaffo/index.html

 

Rocking In A Ball

 

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	6/5/2000 12:14:20 PM 9/13/2020 9:56:51 PM	711

Rocking In A Ball

When you're feeling down, no fooling around, it's so bad that you're rocking in a ball.
Think past now.
When it hurts the worst, you are not the first, to be rocking in a ball.
There is more to come.
Lose someone you love, they flew just like a dove, away, and you're rocking in a ball.
They can't help but remember you.
When you break your back, and feel attacked, on all sides, just rocking in a ball.
There are those who love, if you will just see.
Feeling three inches small, instead of ten feet tall, shamefully rocking in a ball.
We still love you anyway.
Your not always right, frustrations hurt and fright, have you rocking in a ball.
You are not alone, except physically.
When the future's bright, you're dancing throughout the night, rocking at the ball,
We're joyful for you too.
Can we rock in the ball with you?

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

(C) 06/05/2000

Author's Comments

Just trying to throw a reminder out there....there's always someone who loves and misses you....think about it. Stay with us.

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	6/5/2000 12:14:20 PM 9/13/2020 9:56:51 PM	711

Author	Email	Web
Daniel A. Stafford	aqmstaffo@mailbag.com	www.mailbag.com/users/aqmstaffo/index.html

Reflections And Balances

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	6/4/2000 2:26:32 PM 9/17/2020 11:48:56 PM	761

Reflections And Balances

For every light, there is a darkness, for every darkness a light.
Although it is mightily possible, there is no guarantee to get it right.

In our own spirits do we define our fate, yea, even if the hour may be late.
Destiny is like a fine wine, prepared well it can be divine.

Even though outside forces may make it sour, yea at times all happiness to devour,
Never does a man shine as when he stands with strength and lives through the darkest hour with an
unbroken spirit.

In being wrong there is no shame, we all must learn.
Yes, each of us at times must share the blame, at times it must be our turn.

In the end the only value that can be assigned, to the lessons that we learn,
Are those that stand within our hearts, when it is our turn,

To bear the price of our share of the darkness that is the night side of the human soul. In the end,
having faced every joy and every sorrow, we shall know how.

Each in our own way. Take the time to see the lights, notice the smiles along the way. Let them
balance the darknesses, the tears. Endure....because life changes. Not all of these changes are foul,
not all are fine, but God knows, at least they are yours and mine. We are alive, and we must through
our own strength keep our balance. My heart goes out to those who have the courage to try.

AquarianM

Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 06/04/2000

Author's Comments

This was inspired as a response to the work of another poet, questioning the meaning and reason for life and karma, with all the hurt and pain they can bring. This is how I think and feel on it.

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	6/4/2000 2:26:32 PM 9/17/2020 11:48:56 PM	761

Author	Email	Web
Daniel A. Stafford	aqmstaffo@mailbag.com	www.mailbag.com/users/aqmstaffo/index.html

 

The Sunlight Shining Upon My Life Is You

 

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	5/27/2000 1:16:15 AM 10/19/2020 2:50:21 AM	912

The Sunlight Shining Upon My Life Is You

Dear sweet, kind love, you are the other half of me in truth.
If there was a day I wondered, it was before I met you.
If there was a time I was lost, it was before I met you.
If there was a time I cried, it was before we were returned to each other.
If there was a time I needed healing, it was before you brought such joy.
If there was a time I was unsure, it was because you were not yet there.
You are the sunlight shining down on my life.
I could not live it in full without your light.
I could not begin to live it right.
Without you, the stars have little shine.
I bless the day you remembered to be mine.
You have wiped away old tears I've cried.
You have warmed my heart being by my side.
If to one I give my all,
upon you every blessing I can give shall fall.
I feel complete knowing you are near.
You are the sunlight shining down on my life.
Thanks to you, I have walked out of the storm,
Out of the trail of tears,
Away from clouds of sorrow,
and into the joy of the light of day.
You are the truest blessing to come my way.
I will always love you, my sweet sunshine.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

(C) 05/27/2000

Author's Comments

This is dedicated to my sweet Saren. Always.

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	5/27/2000 1:16:15 AM 10/19/2020 2:50:21 AM	912

Author	Email	Web
Daniel A. Stafford	aqmstaffo@mailbag.com	www.mailbag.com/users/aqmstaffo/index.html

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Comments
Sue	bttfly9@yahoo.com	http://www.geocities.com/Heartland/Garden/9843	7/24/2000 12:03:10 AM
Whoever is/or gets to be the sunlight in your life is one of the luckiest persons in the world!