Friday, October 28, 2005

There Go The Tomatoes...

Jack Frost paints silver,
Tomato leaves turn Fall brown,
His fog breath floats low.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 10/28/2005 Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to all the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
The Mars Effect...

It last came so close in A.D. 2003,
And a nation of law turned to its first un-provoked war,
The Red Planet was burning in the sky,
God of anger was rending spirits from their bones,
Looking for what wasn't there while Baghdad burned.

Marching along in the sky he raged far and wide,
The anguish and misery festering like a boil under the skin,
Maimings and flag-draped heroes falling home,
Angry faces in the desert exploding with rage,
Giving a "go home Yankee" bang on every street corner.

October first 2005 saw the warrior planet start walking backwards,
Mars retrograde at his closest approach in 60,000 years this Halloween night,
Right next to the severed head of the Medusa,
A malignant star called Caput Algol whose baleful glow has darkened history,
A time for leaders to lose their heads or their way,
Time for a very cautious step as the stars are serving dangerous beauty.

When you see the sky on Saturday night,
Look for his baleful bright red eye in the East,
And wonder which way the knives of fate will dart,
It's a whole new era rough and tumble starting in,
Yet when the Red God finally wanders away,
Will we recover from the Mars effect?


By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 10/28/2005

Author's Comments:
For more insight on this particular Mars retrograde, see the below two linked sites.
Mars retrograde occurs when the planet appears from our perspective to be moving
backward across the sky. It's strongest effects are at the "station" points, where the planet
appears stopped in the sky, and it lasts until the planet passes back over the point where it
first stationed and starts gaining ground in it's proper direction again.

Wednesday, October 26, 2005

Godfingers Touch...

With quiet silence reaching down through the wind,
He touches you like a saint full of kindness,
Brilliance stabs your eyes like a whispering ghost,
Barely inside existence yet your powerlessness shines in your face,
Where destiny will take you is woven in a cloth,
Like the small traces of a mystery you await it,
What comes down off the sky.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 10/26/2005
Mile Markers...

Another mile whispered by,
A season on the road behind,
As daylight fades into starry night,
Where do we seem to fly?

Every leaf of memory fallen away and passed,
Another piece of existence and I wonder,
Is there a great book somewhere,
Something it will take an eternity to read,
Speaking volumes about love and lies,
What would it say of me and mine?

Another year now passing by,
Tires on pavement moaning hum,
Who sits in the passenger seat,
Are they filled with happy love,
The radio is a small thing - just part of the road,
Blaring out things out of sight of pavement.

It's nice to know of pot holes and rain clouds,
When to roll the windows down,
But kissing in the back seat under red Autumn trees,
That's what seals the gold of summer to my heart,
The foundations of you and me,
A leaf in a vast pile rather than one swirling in the breeze.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 10/25/2005
"For Saren."
Grieving Elephants...

I heard it this morning on the BBC,
Elephants grieve.

They walk up to a skull and bones,
Stroke it gently where it fell alone,
Try to bury it if they can,
They bring no flowers and have no hands.

They can walk away for weeks and miles,
When they return to this place quiet rules,
Walking directly to the spot they stop in silence,
There is no hiding grief at death.

We're not alone on this Earth,
Something to remember,
We have a hand in all creatures' greatest treasures,
A place to live and a reason to go on.

If you can't love Earth for our sake,
Love her for theirs.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 10/26/2005

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

Falling Leaves...

Leaf falls slowly down,
Orange Autumn sign of God,
Beautiful cool rain.

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 10/25/2005


Friday, October 21, 2005

Seasonal Detail...

The beauty in the small things is priceless,
An eye close to the world so seldom reviewed,
What falls to the ground un-noticed is of short duration,
A day or two too late and everything changes,
Too early and it's not at your feet,
A world all around you singing a song in color and whistling wind,
Look and listen closely now and again,
In the still small places so few choose to go a universe awaits,
Poems can fall to the ground and become of the Earth,
Leaves upon the human tree and the ground that nourishes,
All around you just waiting for a moment of intention,
Or lost in the lack of attention,
You choose the colors of your own Fall,
Twisting and turning in the breezes of life,
What do you whisper into the winds?


By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 10/21/2005

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

Fields of The Tawny Days...

Flowing like gold across the field,
Lost in an endless sea of breeze and waving amber,
Life floats upon the sky that seems boundless,
To walk here is to be healed,
To live here is to understand the cycle of life with intricacy,
A season and a season's passing,
Promises of renewal too priceless to forget,
In this vast place called the Heartland,
Here the Mother whispers in her childrens' ears,
Awaiting the embrace both so desperately need.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 10/19/2005

Monday, October 17, 2005

For The Love Of Life...

I will whisper incessantly of the beautiful things I find,
The alive things and the necessary things and all that holds us up,
I will never remain silent as fools' errands are run,
I will show the glory of Mother Earth in all it's forms,
Be it God or any superior notion that created this,
It was never ours to destroy,
For the love of life I will walk through dreams and nightmares,
I will point my finger to the Moon's tides at night,
I will wash the shores of souls like a rolling wave that never sleeps,
For the greatest gift of life is love,
The Universe would share none without the other,
For the love of life I can never leave you alone,
Until you understand the sacredness of every seed,
Man - raise your intellect to walk hand in hand with that from whence you came,
In walking roughshod over your Mother's unconditional love you spell doom,
In working with in the stead of domination you find Grace,
And only Grace will suffer you to live,
Or have you learned nothing of true efficiency in the struggle to heights,
For the love of life...feel love.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 10/17/2005

Sunday, October 16, 2005

Dance Of The Prairie Winds...

Even as the Milkweed faeries dance down the breeze in whistling sunlight,
The Thistle sisters sway their crowns like a trance waiting to happen,
A seed falls here or gets stuck on pant leg there,
A little brash maybe but no secrets to hide,
Dressed in Prairie gold they play with Zephyr princes,
Baiting foxes, stags, even wolves for a ride,
Far past their honey bee pink blush and no longer green with envy,
Fall is their amber season of reward and delight,
Even in Winter's frigid arms they show but little restraint,
They will lonely-peek over pure white blankets,
Always ready for their turn at the ball,
Pretty as gilded lilies in a simpler fashion,
Queens of the prairie waving and fluttering,
They'll always gift you a back -home feeling if you look long and slow,
Sort of child sisters of Mesmer.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 10/16/2005

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to all the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.

Saturday, October 15, 2005

Mister Scott's Final Miracle...

He's going back up,
High up into the black silent void,
Where the stars never blink in myriad colors,
Riding a quaint old rocket's roaring flame,
No impulse nor warp nor ion drive,
Although he'd "miracled" them all at some place or time,
Now his ashes will orbit the Earth as is only fitting,
A little something he engineered while still alive,
The inspiration of thousands of engineers,
Aye Cap'n and a star to steer a teary eye,
They twinkle and sparkle don't ye know,
Mister Scott's final miracle utterly fitting and right,
God bless you James Doohan as you ride the endless ebony night,
For this time, you've gone where every man has had to go before.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 10/15/2005

Author's Comments:
James Doohan's ashes will ride a rocket into space on December 6th, 2005, to orbit the Earth until atmospheric friction causes them to spiral in and burn up. His vaporized remains will eventually become utterly a part of all the Earth thanks to mortality, the one ship he couldn't fix. He inspired so many young people to go into engineering he was awarded an honorary engineering degree. He sails the night with the hearts and hopes of many millions, exploring the final frontier even in spirit.

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to all the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.

Friday, October 14, 2005

Benny The Bug's Fall Diner...

Step it slow and cautious down my block kid,
You never know who'll punch yer lunch ticket,
Better fly high right on by,
It's a hungry day and I've got a thousand babies to feed,
I've climbed the ladder and I'm all set,
It's the Halloween hustle if you come too close,
I've got a sticky spell better than most,
A cold and calculated contract to fulfill,
I'm a bug-eyed bandit out for a thrill,
I'll sit at a witch's door full of poison brew,
Bite a black cat or a Druid what's more or even you,
Come see the pretty silvery shadows that shine,
I'm Benny the Bug and your carcass is all mine!


By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 10/14/2005

Milkweed Magic...

Soft silk bursting to float on chill Fall air,
Milkweed pods like cotton puffs release their aviators,
When the winds kick up and a hawk circles amid swirling white motes,
The sun breaks through the grey cloud fluff and mist,
A single beam onto the amber and straw prairie below,
Lancing through the center of a flotilla of Canada geese,
Lazing down a little Midwestern river,
Their follow-on mallard groupies quack and dive,
The world is slow and at peace.

Coffee mug in one hand and slow cigar in the other,
I smoke signal the sky along the walking path,
Watching toast-gold thistle crowns swaying in the breeze,
Ruling over rustling gentle bleached yellow grasses,
Yellow tiny butterflies flutter around the occasional regal monarch,
Tiny denizens daring the silvery spin of spiders' web,
Giant oak and walnut trees tower over the maple,
Red or yellow or orange or rust with sugar maples for company,
The thickets and the canopy full of bird chatter,
Flocking blackbird pit stop full of brown sparrow gossip,
The robins too good and cheery to participate,
My steps are slow and soaring easy over the path.

Feeling connected to the Earth I walk this path of peace.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 10/13/2005

Monday, October 10, 2005

Ghosts Of The Fall
This picture was taken at Eaton Preserve in Plainfield in the Fall of 2004. This house was the original farmhouse of the farm that became the preserve. This house was torn down this past week, only a hole in the broken ground remains.


It is the small things in their billions from which we derive life,
In the shades of every leaf of the Fall and every blade of grass,
It is in the unknown stories of abandoned houses that the past haunts us,
And we see ghosts in the colors of the Fall.

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 10/10/2005

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to all the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.

Monday, October 03, 2005

When Comes The Fall...

Sun low and slow across the sky,
Each ray slightly tilted,
As cloud fish fish swim the sky in earnest,
A different tint of azure comes above,
Ancient trees give leaf prayers to the cooling winds,
The amber fields are drawn up and cleaned as we pray thanks,
Birds swirling swarms alight on wires by the mile,
Gold of grasses past their season,
Candles and back yard fires glow as sun falls,
Stars come out and the Hunter rises again,
Hearts turn inward in reflection,
Seeing the season and seasons past,
Wondering at the spectacle of rest before renewal,
All things come in their time,
We remember such grace and grandeur anew,
When comes the Fall.

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 09/02/2005

Saturday, October 01, 2005

A moment to point out my new chapbook of poetry, "Battle For New Orleans."

You can find a link in the column to the right where a copy may be purchased. All royalties earned will be donated to Oprah's Angel Network for Katrina survivors. (Oprah pays the administrative costs, so anything I raise will go directly into relief for the victims of the hurricane.)

This book includes 14 poems that I feel sum up the timeline of the hurricane emotionally and spiritually. For $0.69 you can download a copy and $0.50 will go to the Angel Network. (After I recoup the $34.95 fee for the ISBN number) If you prefer hard copy, you can order the print version for a little over $5.50 and $0.50 will still go to the Angel Network.

Even if you decide not to purchase "Battle For New Orleans" please consider donating to the charities supporting Katrinas' victims as often as you possibly can for the next two or three years. They have suffered terribly and will need all the help they can get to get back on their feet.

You can purchase the book here:

Battle For New Orleans
Battle For New Orleans Cover
Royalties go to Katrina charity.

Sincerely and with thanks,

Magic Mirror...

She looks in the misty silvered glass with a deep sigh,
Black candle burning with bright purple fire,
Black cat with burning purple eyes curled up in her lap,
Such tedium as she puts on the basic green,
Glues on warts and a crooked nose,
"Mirror, mirror, tell me no lie,
Am I finally ugly enough to fly?"

Silly silly rules to fly by an amber gibbous Moon on Halloween,
After all, if you had crystal balls and love potions by the numbers,
Wouldn't you snap your wand and look like Clarke Gable or Marilyn Monroe?

A gal's gotta keep up her image, you know!


By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 09/31/2005