The Secret Under The Bridge

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	7/24/2000 9:14:49 PM 11/2/2020 11:13:41 AM	741

The Secret Under The Bridge

Chicago downtown on foot in summer, blue sky flashes,
Reflections off glass buildings, mad car and pedestrian dashes.
Flowers hanging in pots, purple white and red,
Drawbridges and concrete, islands of green along the river ahead.

River walk, concrete stairs, ornate sky scrapers, marinas in walls.

Family walking in a hurry, trying to make the afternoon cruise,
Take in the sights in stolen glances, the architectural boat tour we choose.
Gates under stairs, tucked away alongside green flowing water,
Trees shade small spaces along the river's edge, still growing hotter.

We missed the cruise, but the competition has seats across the bridge.

Tickets in line we must hurry, across river from Tribune Tower,
Buildings in Gothic, or glass and steel purity, ornate show of power.
Cruise out from the dock gently rolling with wakes,
Dappled ripples reflections, leisurely steaming the boat takes.

Views along river front and small pleasure craft rolling.

Turn around at the Madison Street bridge, heading out.
Riverside cafe's below streets, stone pillars decorative yet stout.
Water bike rentals, sunshine, people hanging waving over rails,
Tiny moments of riverside peace on breaks from works' travails.

Ahead lies Lake Michigan, second largest fresh water lake in the world.

Warmth, all our faces smiling while white sea gulls cried and soared.
Army Engineers locks raise cruise boat, small outboard.
The jet-ski's are awaiting the raise of the lock impatient to run,
And when the lock gate opens wide, dash off for waves and fun.

The sail boats silently grace the horizon with white wings standing full.

The waters change from green to aqua to deep dark blue,
Looking out past the break-water line incredible hue.
Lake and sky as far as eye can see, Lighthouse stands solitary,
And Navy Pier hosts thousands for fun, giant white Ferris wheel not scary.

Wooden sided pleasure yachts, craft of every size, man-made islands.

The blue of lake and sky meets where the eye travels far,
And spray from our wake splashes softly on my young star.
A ten year old with a vacation full of the wider world,
Imagination's seeds planted to be one days wisdom's pearls.

He's smiling, along with sunshine and I, deep inside.

Head back to the dock and gently thump the side,
Passing crew at the gangway, a moment of thanks for the ride.
Walking over the river, seeing the city's life,
The beauty and the hustle, traffic full of strife.

We're free of that now, in timeless moments.

Down stone stairs to O'Brian's Irish Pub,
Peaking out on the water at beauties and an old barge tub.
Sipping ice-cold sodas under the umbrella straight from the fridge,
Looking at the ivory covered bridgehouse walls, door below bridge.

I've discovered The Secret Under The Bridge.

A tiny art gallery hidden in the drawbridge works below,
An unlikely spot to find in this all, under Chicago's flow.
A free show, the workings of the drawbridge, and painted scenes.
Bridges of Pairs hiding in the walls, amid giant gears and machines.

We snuck in for a peek or forty, interesting fun.
State Street Bridge Gallery, hidden away from the sun.
Sneak a peek if you find the time when you're in town,
And you'll see a tiny secret yet to gain renown.

We strolled merrily off into the summer evening sunshine.

I think the fountain at the corner was singing with my heart.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 07/24/2000

Author's Comments

Vacation Rules!!!

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	7/24/2000 9:14:49 PM 11/2/2020 11:13:41 AM	741

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

Total Comments: 3

Comments
ART PAUL SCHLOSSER	artpaul@mailcity.com	http://www.onlinerock.com/musicians/artpaulrocks/folk.html	7/25/2000 7:10:48 PM
I really like how you use description words. Maybe you should write a novel
Sue Allie	bttfly9@yahoo.com	http://www.geocities.com/Heartland/Garden/9843	7/28/2000 9:56:38 PM
Ah, noticing all those "little" tucked away sights!
Janine Daniel	spinnys@hotmail.com	www.spinnys.com	7/29/2000 9:32:35 AM
Dan, you paint such a wonderful picture in my head. I could see all those things as if I were there. Beautiful colors and  mysterious smells with something interesting to see whichever way I look. Thank you...*S*

 

The Great Badger Race

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	7/24/2000 10:26:02 AM 9/4/2020 11:40:00 PM	753

The Great Badger Race

---

High school Freshman in springtime.
Afternoons that were free to be mine.
Shining red motorcycle, vast green field across the street.
Riding like the wind upon two wheels, soon to meet.
Small creature of fierce heart,
Never needed a head start.
Waiting by the fence post half across the field,
And racing to the badger hole against the demon on wheels.
Side by side we'd run on those sunny spring days,
We must've had twenty or so replays.
He'd always win by disappearing into the ground,
And I'd look forward to the next round.
As I rode off for the green trails along the tracks,
My mind would take all different tacks.
I remember you, Mister Badger you won.
But I think both of us lived in the sun.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 07/24/2000

Author's Comments

I had a red Kawasaki 100cc street / trail bike in junior high and through high school. There was a badger living across the street from the old farm house we lived in on Troy Drive in Madison, Wisconsin back then in 1977 and early 1998. He was both my nemesis and in a strange way, my friend. I hope he still lives there.

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Daniel A. Stafford	7/24/2000 10:26:02 AM 9/4/2020 11:40:00 PM	753

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Comments
ART PAUL SCHLOSSER	artpaul@mailcity.com	http://www.unsigned-music.com/html/body_art_paul_schlosser.html	7/24/2000 3:36:12 PM
I could really relate to this poem whenever I'm walking by trees or railroad tracks or am in someone's garden. This really has feeling.
Daniel A. Stafford	aqmstaffo@mailbag.com		5/15/2001 2:29:43 AM
I have since learned that the field where Mr. Badger made his home, And across the street from where I once made mine, has been converted into community garden plots. There apparently was quite a political battle over whether or not to build/develop the land, and the gardeners won. It makes my heart glad.

 

Fountain of Light

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	7/23/2000 2:00:31 AM 8/23/2020 3:22:22 AM	762

Fountain of Light

A family day starts, waking in the morning, three ready to go.
Hoping to make it in time, construction or no.
Riding and weaving we make the train,
Chicago Loop tour on the "EL", I'd thought it would rain.

Just right sunny summer greets us downtown.

Explained buildings from a second story view,
Guides that tell you details of old and new,
Child with wide eyes, both large and small,
Riding around a city that stands strong and tall.

History learned and made at the same time.

Walking through the art galleries and Broadcast Museum,
Cultural tour of old radios and TV's, you can both touch and see 'em.
Pictures of Egypt in grand ancient stone,
And gardens with statues, like kings on a throne.

Abstracts, Lincoln, flowers, blue skies.

Walking the lake front at the marina, water of Michigan.
Rippled surface in a thousand aqua shades, see all you can.
You can not see the far shore, but sails are abounding,
Sea gulls and sunshine, tall white ship astounding.

Beautiful white sailing vessel now giving tours.

Lighthouse on the breakwater, bobbing boats everywhere.
People far gazing, lying in grass, slow motion laid back affair.
Feet take us through the park, Chicago's magic summer day.
People pedal bike cars four to a ride, blue and yellow let's say.

Rose gardens, flower beds, sprinkled on land.

Tracking through tree-shaded greens, small fountains.
Buildings surrounding like man-made mountains.
Finally the centerpiece comes into view,
Buckingham Fountain, old, but to my son and I new.

Dedicated in 1927, ethereal beauty in copper and stone.

Georgia pink marble in three finely sculpted tiers, flowing.
Wide at the base, smaller second dish, upper little and glowing.
Each overflowing into the scalloped next bowl,
And jets all around with spectacular plumed flows.

A one hundred thirty seven foot central plume.

They turn the jets full twenty minutes of two hours,
And the plume in the center then truly towers.
Jets in the corners of the base fountain pool,
Looking like flowers of flowing water so cool.

When the central plume rises towards the Sun, the rainbow comes.

Stretching just across the plaza with colors ablaze,
A rainbow shines strongly in the misty water haze.
Ending upon the bench where my love and I had just sat,
If we'd stayed moments longer the pot of gold would be under my hat.

A flowing plume is the rainbow's flagpole.

Look past the fountain the blue of the lake,
And evening magenta and dark purple begins to take,
Over the sky where the darkness now falls,
Graced with white wings soaring and sea gulls' calls.

That's when the lights begin to play.

Dusk and darkness sweep the night skies in grace,
Skyscrapers lights in varied decorative race,
And the varicolored lights in the fountain begin their dance.
The bowls turn to gold with a rose colored flame atop for romance.

Lights dance like magic spells cast by fairy entertainers.

The fountain glows with a seeming inner light as the show unwinds.
Crowds of lovers holding hands, families and children night finds,
Ooo's and aaahhs grace these fated ears just sweet sounds,
And the fountain has turned deep glowing red with a violet crown.

The colors change through soft misty rainbows in the magical spray.

And now to add to the show something totally unplanned,
In the back-dropping night sky glowing motes stand.
A fireworks display majestic and grand lights up the night,
All colors and booms, fountains of motes of beautiful light.

Behind the softly colored glowing fountain, motes of light soar in formation.

The Grand Finale In spectacular color and crashes surrounding,
The rushing of the glowing fountains we're ringing.
At last, just the rushing and soft light of the fountain display remains,
Amidst the cool breezes and the lights of ships asail and their horn refrains.

The lights of Chicago, a magical gift for Lover, Father, and Child.

Vacation magic granted by a graceful universe.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 07/23/2000

Author's Comments

This was our day today, my ten year old son, Lady Saren and I. We had no clue that we would end up at Buckingham Fountain in the afternoon and evening, nor any idea that there would be fireworks. Especially not a large commercial display that would backdrop the fountain. All of us were captivated with the natural rainbow in the afternoon and the man-made ones this evening. I am writing this as we have just returned home this evening with the hopes that I can convey as much of such wonder in detail for all as possible. I hope you all enjoy our little taste of magic. And the rainbow really did end on the bench where we had just sat....

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	7/23/2000 2:00:31 AM 8/23/2020 3:22:22 AM	762

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Cold Red Home

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	7/22/2000 12:23:05 PM 9/15/2020 2:43:57 AM	2093

Cold Red Home

I stand in the red-washed sunlight that seems watered down,
And the vista is scenes from a 21st century frontier town.
Conestogas of metal launched on columns of flame,
With hopes that this planet we are able to tame.

Mars is a cold place.

I see orange rock strewn hills, mounds of red desert covering homes.
Lights in the darkness in the frigid night, mining for water under stone domes.
Space-suited working men and women face the vacuum every day.
Here we will change this world in previously unfathomed ways.

The light gravity makes you feel like superman.

The all-pervasive redness here looking so rusty and bleak,
Hides the minerals and treasures we so energetically seek
Building homes sheltered deep underground,
Greenhouses in hobbit caves lighted by fusion unwound.

Faces gather 'round the light of a screen-faced golem.

Searching for answers and new ways to exist,
Adding new knowledge to the treasure list.
Someday, we'll see fields of greensward begin to cover an ocean of rust.
But that joy is for great-great-grandchildren, now there's red dust.

We're building a new world.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 07/22/2000

Author's Comments

Just a taste, a wisp of vision of what will be.

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	7/22/2000 12:23:05 PM 9/15/2020 2:43:57 AM	2093

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Total Comments: 1

Comments
Claud	klugecc@jps.net		7/22/2000 6:56:48 PM
You're going to have to quit smoking that stuff, Dan!! Only kidding guy. Actually it's a very imaginative piece. Far out!!!

 

Navigating The Ocean Of Hearts

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	7/22/2000 2:24:13 AM 10/9/2020 10:15:08 PM	696

Navigating The Ocean Of Hearts

As we sail our course through life, sending out waves,

Rippling the waters by our very presence,

We should always remember that love saves,

Yes, washes over all gently yet warmly, powerfully intense.

It is reflected in the eyes and futures of our brightest stars.

Those we love and show kindness, reflect this wave throughout,

And the more energy given to this direction the lesser the doubt.

We need to hear the keening and sadness of those who hurt,

And wash away the cold anger and fear, emotional dirt.

The quality of everyone's world is truly affected.

So if you question your way, wonder where to turn,

Remember that what feels kind and warm, is where love's fire does burn.

Turn away from coldness, distance and anger, for there lurks the storm,

And you will find an ocean of hearts, where the color blue is warm.

Swim in the seas of summer, life and sunshine.

Others will follow.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

(C) 07/22/2000

Author's Comments

I never really felt that The Ocean Of Hearts was quite poetry so much as prose for an idea. I still think it's one of the most profound moments of guidance to come my way, but I'll never be sure I conveyed it clearly enough. I hope this helps add to it things that need to be said. I also hope for warm waters for all to swim.

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	7/22/2000 2:24:13 AM 10/9/2020 10:15:08 PM	696

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Total Comments: 1

Comments
ART PAUL SCHLOSSER	artpaul@mailcity.com	http://www.theglobalmuse.com/schlosser	7/24/2000 3:49:00 PM
This is very beautiful and in a case like this if it is beautiful without rhyming it is best not to make it rhyme.

Bubble Mountain

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	7/21/2000 12:21:46 PM 9/27/2020 5:44:26 AM	817

Bubble Mountain

An eight year old attempting to learn something new,
A mother teaching thought she'd had the job true,
"Fill the little door there with dish soap, push the lever."
"Push the button there and then you can leave 'er."

Mom says she's off to take a nap.

Me, I'm off playing hotwheels in a sixties Nebraska summer,
Chargers and dragsters and hotrods, but nary a Hummer.
The field behind the house is hot, and sand burrs in the yard,
Long summer days in the middle of nothing are not hard.

Usually not, until you hear Mom scream!

I ran in the house, expecting a louse, or a monster's glare,
But the sight that I saw I couldn't even draw, all I could do was stare!
From the living room door they were coming out of the kitchen,
A mountain of bubbles, suds taller than a skinny kid due for switchin'.

I couldn't believe my eyes!

A myriad tiny rainbowed suds, filling a twenty foot room,
And a screaming mother wading through with no broom.
Trying to find the sink, or the dishwasher door,
So that Ivory Liquid wouldn't make any more!

The bubble blob was eating our house!

Twenty minutes more and the basement would be,
Drowning in foamy white suds 'cause of me.
We spent the rest of the day bailing with pans,
And cold water running and filling our hands.

It took hours to wash them all down.

I spent the next two days washing everything five feet and under,
And with a spinning head full of childish wonder.

Why hadn't she said Cascade?

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 07/21/2000

Author's Comments

A real life tale of childhood. I know it sounds like Little Rick and Lucy, But it truly was me and my Mom. I've never seen anything like it since. It's a Famous Family Episode now. (FFE) We still laugh 'til tears come to eye.

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Daniel A. Stafford	7/21/2000 12:21:46 PM 9/27/2020 5:44:26 AM	817

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Total Comments: 1

Comments
Leigh	marin@kci.net		3/2/2001 5:18:41 PM
Oh Dan, this is sooo funny! The imagery is so vivid ... I can see why you and your family still laugh about this! It's wonderful! :) Leigh

 

Eternal Lamp Of Night

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	7/20/2000 2:26:47 PM 11/11/2020 6:38:37 PM	4240

Eternal Lamp Of Night

Night of amber Moon, summer evening ending,
Time of rest and musings near, heart time I'm spending.
Romantic, mystic, beautiful full lamp of night,
Surrounded by a fairy ring, pillows of silver cloud surround just right.

Gracing the night skies eternally.

Watching over us, leading the march of tides in timeless fashion,
Diana, Athena, huntress of the night, watcher of passion,
You've guided our women's tides as surely as those of Earth,
Sister to our great Mother, your beauty gives birth,

Bringer of romantic visions, harbinger of love.

As timeless as the seas and sands your hand does gently wash,
Caressed by summer winds and poets' words so posh,
You enrich our existence, and promise to make our future,
And by your storied light shall we mature.

As your eternal lighted hand gently rocks the cradle,

Lovely night light, we adore thee.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 07/20/2000

Author's Comments

This was inspired by the skies over my head the past week, the times I have lived and loved, and Skye's beautiful fantasy work. Some things you are glad will last beyond you.

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	7/20/2000 2:26:47 PM 11/11/2020 6:38:37 PM	4240

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

Total Comments: 6

Comments
Janine Daniel	spinnys@hotmail.com	www.spinnys.com	7/21/2000 11:32:51 AM
I think this is a beautiful poem. I could see the night sky as you described it to me. What a majestic sight!
Sue Alllie	bttfly9@yahoo.com	http://www.geocities.com/Heartland/Garden/9843	8/2/2000 7:46:37 AM
I can picture you laying on the soft grass with your hands crossed behind your head, all your cares thrown away and just dreaming gazing up at the stars. Into your mind enters this beautiful poem.
Katrina	KatzMeowSS@netscape.net		8/7/2000 10:03:37 AM
Wonderfully descriptive!! You do so well with the mystic approach. It's like you see things in the way they were meant to be seen....magically and as if for the first time. Great job!!
Maven	acheowing@yahoo.com	Http://www.marksofxcellence.freeservers.com	6/2/2002 7:16:53 PM
Have you ever published any of your work ? It' s simply riveting .
Boundarylesseyes	Boundarylesseyes@aol.com		3/20/2004 7:35:53 PM
I am new to this site and I felt compelled to read this. I'm glad I did. It's a wonderful poem. I have some friends who honor nature and I will forward it along to them.
Daniel A. Stafford	aqmstaffo@mailbag.com	www.whizzyrds.com	3/26/2010 3:36:56 AM
This was one of my earliest attempts at poetry. It's been on the "most active 50" list for 10 years. I guess I got it right. It was originally inspired by a night out on the river one summer in my brother's boat with both of our wives. There was an absolutely gorgeous amber Moon rising up from the horizon as we were trolling to the dock at the end of the day.

 

Minibike Summer Haiku

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Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	7/19/2000 3:48:26 PM 10/19/2020 4:19:07 PM	723

Minibike Summer Haiku

I just put in gas.
The minibike moves summer fast.
Speed bought for a dime.

By: Daniel a. Stafford
(C) 07/19/2000

Author's Comments

My eighth birthday present was a lawn mower engine minibike. I lived in Genoa, NE. I had trails all over and roads with nothing but cornfields for company of gravel. 1970 and a childhood dream come true.

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	7/19/2000 3:48:26 PM 10/19/2020 4:19:07 PM	723

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

Total Comments: 2

Comments
Daniel A. Stafford	aqmstaffo@mailbag.com		7/19/2000 6:58:02 PM
Oh, by the way, the dime? That's what it cost then to fill the tank.
Janine Daniel	spinnys@hotmail.com	www.spinnys.com	7/21/2000 11:37:38 AM
Even without your message at the end I saw your endless summer days flashing past you as you rode your minibike. A very good Haiku.

 

Platte Cats...

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	7/19/2000 1:39:34 PM 10/12/2020 11:25:46 PM	730

Platte Cats...

Mother fierce, leading three young wild ones.
Black hair, blond hair, red hair, one daughter, two sons.
Off to the tiny Nebraska back water park.
We lived in a one horse town and were there just before dark.

We'd been dancing on sandbars all day.

Wild long hair, sun tans, and blue jean shorts.
Children in the late 60's and full of smart aleck retorts.
I was eleven, the other two younger trouble and fun.
My little sister, the mischievous one, brother with a mean streak.

We'd been to the Powwow the day before.

The Indians called him Red Tornado in their native tongue.
I'd many a happy childhood memory here where their songs were sung.
A fisherman on a Platte river bank at dusk did stand.
He'd hauled a huge channel cat out of a river of sand.

The fish was bigger than me.

Ooo's and aaaahhh's and children's wide eyes.
This was a fisherman that needed no lies.
A four footer if it was an inch.
"Could you please give me a pinch?"

I thought I was dreaming at first.

Sunset stories, campfires, pitched pup tents.
Marshmallows roasting on sticks that are bent.
Stars you could see in their millions galore,
And places I see if I just close my eyes once more.

"What are you going to do with that thing?"

"I'll sell it to the local restaurant for catfish steaks!"
After a careful picture he takes!
A foot and a half off the ground at the dorsal fin,
And near two feet across the gills with not a drop of gin.

Ain't that something to remember, Mom?

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 07/19/2000

Author's Comments

When I was eight years old, we lived in a tiny town, Genoa Nebraska. Population 1050. It was an incredible place to be a child, gravel highways and all. We went back one summer to visit friends, and there was an Indian Powwow at the park. The really did call my brother the Red Tornado from his hair and temperament. And if anything I underestimate that channel cat we saw after the following days' swim. We were definitely the Platte Cats then! And that fisherman could brag for years!

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	7/19/2000 1:39:34 PM 10/12/2020 11:25:46 PM	730

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

Total Comments: 1

Comments
Janine Daniel	spinnys@hotmail.com	www.spinnys.com	7/21/2000 11:47:53 AM
I feel like you've let me see something very personal and special with this poem... a trip down memory lane. I felt like I was there with you...*S*

 

Little Summer Magic

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	7/18/2000 2:55:59 AM 10/15/2020 3:40:15 AM	846

Little Summer Magic

I think that when I was a child, there was more magic in the world.
I think that maybe, just maybe, sometimes reality twirled and swirled.
I remember summer days, hot sunshine and ice-pops, training wheels.
Before I got that far, just a wee tyke barely three I learned how it feels.

Red, blue, and green lightning bugs.

Yep, those fireflies came in neon colors and flew jigs.
I later wondered if the red and blue ones found different digs.
What happened to the red and blues, I went on and on.
Noni, Nono, are they all gone?

They were sitting in those lawn chairs just after dark.

Smiling while I chased lightning bugs laughing.
Summer was different back then. I saw all.
Just like the wee folk dancing in the small,
Only a child's eyes could see them.

Then I was older, and the whole world just, well, shifted.

The color fliers vanished with the fall.
I just happen to remember it all.
Moon glowing, warm night breezes,
The King of the Fairies freezes.

Another bit of magic lost in the mists of time.

The Greens stay to remind us, and the stars still twinkle.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 07/18/2000

Author's Comments

A very, very early childhood memory. I actually remember a night when my grandparents were sitting out in lawn chairs  watching me chase all three colors of lightning bug. I wonder if the color is grandparent magic or child magic, but the sense of wonder lingers. This was a sweet time, and  it's colored happy, too.

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	7/18/2000 2:55:59 AM 10/15/2020 3:40:15 AM	846

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

Total Comments: 1

Comments
Leigh	marin@kci.net		3/2/2001 5:21:45 PM
What a lovely memory .... magical, to be sure. *s* I think it was a little of both -- grandparent AND child magic. *s* Leigh

 

A Case For Better Angels...

A Case For Better Angels... 

The chance stands before you,

Open blue sky East,

Twinkling starlight West,

Storm clouds fading away South,

An epic chance to save true North.

Thw world is nearly your oyster,

Will it be loaves and fishes,

Or pearls and wishes?

All the world is a theater,

The stage under your feet,

Every human alive your audience,

The mic in your hand,

Breathe.

May your case for better angels.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

© 11/09/2020

Post Season...

Post Season...

I've watched jack-o-lanterns after Halloween,

Tossed onto the compost heap,

The dark soot of burned-out candles,

Trailing from pumkin eyes,

Blackening pumpkin lips,

Shriveling and rotting,

Back into mush,

Melting into the Earth,

Becoming one with the dirt,

That from which they arose.

Even pumpkins of thunder,

The giant of noisy gourds,

Loud in their season,

Yet when it passes they return,

Back to the formless underworld,

And even wide-eyed children dream of them no more.

Wail pumpkin,

Thrash pumpkin,

Writhe as you melt,

For tomorrow is another season,

None of it yours.

Then we give thanks.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

© 11/09/2020

Underhill Designs

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	7/13/2000 11:38:08 PM 9/14/2020 2:26:48 AM	756

Underhill Designs

Green forested hills rolling in flowers,
Long grasses in fluttering sun shadow towers,
Sweeping across the ancient Earth,
A hobbits' homestead of beauty and worth.

A stone lined door with lantern aside.

Walk into the hill past the strong oaken door,
And quite a surprise will be there in store.
Mirrors and verticle tubes from above,
Fill an underground home with light, there was already love.

Surprising how beatiful it is living under a park.

Small architect with gnarled hands,
Building a nation under verdant green lands,
No spreading concrete above to despoil,
Just historic landmarks of old toil.

History need not fade.

The Hobbit crafts a fine magic spell,
And Underhill City begins to swell.
Parties and work and life abound,
And above is a natural grass covered mound.

Mowing your roof can be quite fun!

Little heat and no cooling does it require,
Eight feet under is 58 degrees, no lower, no higher.
Year round it is the same,
While seasons above will still hold their claim.

Can you see why there's a glow in his eye?

Stone and glass, magic, Earth and light.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 07/13/2000

Author's Comments

I've long been a proponent of building under the Earth and living on it. The surface should be left as is and future construction go under the world where the temperature remains constant and wilderness, parks, and fields are reserved as is above. It makes sense from a habitat standpoint, from an energy standpoint, and if done correctly can be quite surprisingly beautiful. I imagine Lunar and Martian colonies, as well as those in other solar system locations will need to do this for additional reasons, such as radiation shielding and atmospheric containment, shielding from meteorite impact, etc.

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	7/13/2000 11:38:08 PM 9/14/2020 2:26:48 AM	756

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

 

Moon Glow Salad

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	7/13/2000 9:55:06 PM 11/3/2020 3:11:02 AM	3562

Moon Glow Salad

They're holding conferences, clear across the deep blue sea,
Officials from every country, it seems but we.
They want to divide up the Moon, eat it up for lunch.
And they speak of solar power there to give it extra punch.

Moon glow salad, microwaves beamed to mother Earth.

Diana grid-lined and divvied up by the boys.
United States does drag it's heels, soon to miss the joys,
Of having a near place from which to launch,
From a place where gravity is not so staunch.

NASA turning a blind eye.

You know, it's just about the most conveniently placed,
Stepping stone next door to any place,
And we're just giving it over without participation,
And giving up the future of our nation.

We, who first walked upon the Moon Man's face.

We won the race, and are now giving up the stars.
The place our focus now resides? Look you to Red Mars.
With the Moon for a boost, oh night light Ruler of tides,
The Red Desert is far easier, to take in stride.

Shall we scoff at God's great gift?

Balance in our plan, we need to stand in forefront!
Where is our leadership, who should not punt?
Right next door, barely across the celestial street,
Is the silvery Lady of Night, who's solace is sweet.

We need her guiding, helping hand.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 07/13/2000

Author's Comments

http://www.space.com/news/spaceagencies/lunar_europe_000710.html "Exploring the Moon: Europe Leads the Way By Leonard David, Senior Space Writer WASHINGTON -- The moon can be seen as an escaped continent of Earth. The question now facing the world is how best to transform that barren landmass into a thriving hub of scientific research and industrialization. Increasingly, many nations are taking a longing look at Earth's celestial next-door neighbor. To prove the point, you don't have to look much farther than the Fourth International Conference on Exploration and Utilization of the Moon. Set for July 10-15, the lunar conference will be held in Noordwijk, with the city heralded as the "Capital of the Moon." Plotting the next steps on the moon is already on Europe's space agenda. Similarly, Japan is readying its Lunar A mission in 2003, and the Selene moon lander for a 2004 touchdown. All manner of ideas are to be discussed, Foing said, be they lunar astronomical observatories; cost issues for a human return to the moon; even the economic and legal aspects of setting up a commercial business on Luna. During the conference, a "Lunar Declaration" is to be drafted. The document serves as a plan of action for international lunar explorers and space agencies keen on 21st-century exploration and use of the moon, Foing said. Mars myopia: Michael Duke, co-chairman of ILEWG, said that interest in the moon appears higher in Europe than in the United States. Duke is also a research scientist at the Lunar and Planetary Institute in Houston, Texas. "The upcoming conference can serve to promote an international lunar program. However, there is no sign of U.S. leadership in this area, as NASA appears to be placing all of its attention on Martian exploration," Duke said."
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ME: I am quoting this article because it is such a huge issue. Many people quite simply do not understand what the Moon REALLY is. It is our closest celestial neighbor. It is also a very convenient launch point for space missions to anywhere beyond Earth. It is extremely difficult and expensive to lift anything off the Earth and escape it's gravity. The Earths' atmosphere adds to the problem by adding heat and drag to the picture. 250,000 miles over yonder sits this huge glowing heap of raw materials for space craft, factories, power stations, and one sixth the gravity and no atmosphere to interfere with launches. Mars is a lot further and in the long run much more expensive without a Lunar waypoint. We need to be doing the raw robot exploration of Mars, yes, because we'll need to go  there next, but first we need the Moon. How convenient a place for it to be. Is our country going to let every square inch go by default? We need to be in on this!

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	7/13/2000 9:55:06 PM 11/3/2020 3:11:02 AM	3562

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

Total Comments: 1

Comments
Janine Daniel	spinnys@hotmail.com	www.spinnys.com	7/13/2000 10:30:50 PM
This poem has incredible impact. Sitting here "Down Under" I can feel the rest of the Earth above me pressing down. We don't have a space exploration program so PLEASE don't leave me behind when you all leave! I agree something has to be done but is it going to turn the Moon into just another over-populated Earth?