The Last Of Monowi...

The prairie grass returns,
Covering over fallen homes,
Places only ghosts now roam,
Empty houses and broken streets,
The hopes of generations fallen to ruin,
All at the stroke of the globalization pen,
Farms and factories silent and deserted,
Gone back to what it was before we came,
A white-haired stubborn old lady,
The lone inhabitant of a place that's gone,
No future apocalypse,
Nothing you have to wait until 2100 for,
They say we've never abandoned an American city,
That lie is apparent all over the countryside,
The last lady of Monowi can show it to you today.


http://www.whizzyrds.com/Ghostville.html

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 11/21/2005

What Exactly IS In A Word?

A word is a discussion all by itself,
It holds an image of what it tells,
It's a picture agreed upon by you and me,
It's a contract unspoken we speak every day,
Origins that trace back to the first "what is it,"
"Let's call it this - what do you say?"

In order to understand the nature of this treasure,
We must realize that the universe is built of foundational blocks,
Within or without words shape it because they are the basis,
Given to us by divinity and no other creature we do not teach,
We speak to our God with them whatever name we use,
We often fail to understand that we do not have to address God,
Every word is heard and may result in action from Divinity,
As poets we choose words with care,
Missing the proper understanding perhaps,
Although not necessarily entirely.

Forgive me if it seems presumptuous,
For I know of no other creature,
That speaks to and in front of God,
With every breath or stroke of pen,
As such we poets are more than we know,
We stand closest to this particular gate.

Step through the gate into the parlor,
Read the writing on the walls,
Come back out with an understanding whereof you speak,
Turn - the gate is here:

www.concentric.net/~conure/shinn.shtml

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 11/20/2005

An Angel In China...

Wing beats dust bamboo,
Halo shines on rice paper,
Bearing love's soft dreams.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 11/19/2005

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.

Snowflake Whispers...



Falling in silence,
White on winds accumulate,
Swirling pearl dreamscape.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 11/17/2005

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.

Cherry Blossom Steps...



Spring petals soft scent,
Sweet fruit plucked by sun rise,
Petals litter grass.

Pink softness underfoot,
Blooming passion within hearts,
Whispers echo love.

Old monk's walking stick,
Dancing among petals here,
Cherry blossom steps.

Sun sets quietly,
All shadows stretch long and far,
Past life memories.

Spring petals soft scent,
Dancing among petals here,
All jade has faded.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 11/08/2005

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.

Nursery...

They call him Orion and he hunts the night skies,
Appearing above just as Winter wakes from Summer's heat,
You can see a sword hanging at his belt in the cool nights,
Yet not so many know what it guards,
What drives the hunter to the drawn bow.

A mystery it took Galileo and at least a century to resolve.

Right there,
Tucked away in that sword sheath,
Orion's nursery - a nebula where new stars are forming,
The fires of creation lend their soft glow to our nights,
Gracing Fall nights with a harvest of new light,
I've always wanted to go there.

The first thing I ever pointed a university telescope at.



AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 11/05/2005

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.

Under Charcoal Skies...



The winds are dancing the trees like wild Heathens,
Shuddering the last of their leaves from branches too chill to resist,
Cold rain drops fly down coat necks as we lean into our steps,
Awaiting the hushed blanket of white we're soon promised.

Swirling multicolored leaves tornado in the streets,
Rustling at the door like lost waifs in a magic palette,
Burning with the last wisps of the harvest season,
About to gift the Earth for the new year's growth to come.

The black shapes of geese and sparrows punctuate the dimming light,
Their flowing geometry in flocked flight a sign of abandonment,
The Sun is falling South and so shall they,
Bursting from the cornfields of dimming gold stubble and bare-stick trees.

Bluster faces those who decorate the landscape,
Braving the washed-out light of Autumn's wane,
Seeking the soul secrets within this simple grey space,
Walking the Earth paths under charcoal skies.

All these skies' promises whisper simply of curtains of white.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 11/14/2005

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.

Just A Dustin'



Eighteen degrees on a silent night,
Minus eight if Centigrade is your right,
A few fat flakes dancing all about in a swirling breeze,
Two coats with a scarf and ear muffs,
Don't forget the gloves or your fingers will freeze.

It's that time again,
Wishing for Summer a fruitless test,
Yet lest we forget - it's Lady winter who lets life rest,
A cycle we all really need,
Endangered seasons all to meet the need for speed.

When you glide down a slippery road,
Try it with snow shoes all wrapped up in the hush of the night,
Remember all the miracles of icicles and frost,
Adulthood left your Winter magic in ruins you say,
Still it's up to you if your inner child is really that lost.

So even just a dustin' -
It's far better than nothin' -
Let Mother Earth heal a bit before balmy days,
Time enough before Spring showers or harvest to reap,
Gaia is tired and weary - we must let her sleep.

For myself and piece of mind,
I'll throw you a snowball and put a sled under my behind.




By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 11/17/2005

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 Bluest Angel...



Tiny Angel, wings so blue-white,
Watch over me as I pray goodnight,
Let Mommy be safe and happy please,
You in your robes so blue, me on my knees.

I watch you fly in God's grace.

Tiny angel, flit down upon my cupped palms,
Smile up at me, singing, with no qualms.
A voice so ethereal and uplifting,
Carry my heart through a life that's shifting.

Thank you for carrying my prayers to heaven so well.

Bluer than the skies,
Angel with the bluest eyes,
Singing and free,
Thank you for loving me.

Fly always in beautiful childhood dreams.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C)2000

Author's Comments:
A dream, from very early childhood in Madison, WI.
This took place when I was three, in the time of the Dinosaur Safari.
I think it may have been inspired by watching a show on
TV about the Navy flying team, the Blue Angels.
You see, to me as a child, airplanes were the grandest
vision in the whole world. We lived off an Air Force base.
I lived in a world of fast jets, heard sonic booms before they
stopped supersonic flight over the continental USA.
I woke up crying because the dream was gone.

*One thing I should note but never have before posting this at Flowing Quills: the entire dream was very vivid, but I dreampt it as if it were a Saturday morning cartoon that I was living in, like I was in the world of comic art. I never really had that piece stand out to me until now. Perhaps that's telling me something I should do...* (I just had a thought - the Fire Angel - I think she is my Bluest Angel from childhood) This was also my first paper-published work.

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.

A Day of Peace...

It whispers under the skin like a silent need,
An itch that needs to be scratched,
We all pray we'll find it somewhere,
Under the next law where they snuck in this or that.

"Not a single drop of blood shed today."

Some of us can live and let live,
Maybe that's an excuse not to pay attention,
We think our struggle is too important for all of that,
Pooh-pooh on it all my ostrich friends.

"Peace agreements today were signed in the last conflicts on the globe."

We come home looking for dinner and the TV,
Bathing in a make-believe life instead of our own,
Wandering away from everyday miracles non-chalant,
Dulled by incessant friction like a bug in the ear.

"Poverty finally averted as the last drop of oil was burned."

It's a slick predicament filled with glassy-eyed stares,
The tired Earth is weeping of loneliness,
Her children having fallen to electronic dreams,
Too lazy to even enjoy the beach.

Just once in this life I'd love to read the headlines of a true day of peace...

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 11/19/2005

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.

Under Charcoal Skies...



The winds are dancing the trees like wild Heathens,
Shuddering the last of their leaves from branches too chill to resist,
Cold rain drops fly down coat necks as we lean into our steps,
Awaiting the hushed blanket of white we're soon promised.

Swirling multicolored leaves tornado in the streets,
Rustling at the door like lost waifs in a magic palette,
Burning with the last wisps of the harvest season,
About to gift the Earth for the new year's growth to come.

The black shapes of geese and sparrows punctuate the dimming light,
Their flowing geometry in flocked flight a sign of abandonment,
The Sun is falling South and so shall they,
Bursting from the cornfields of dimming gold stubble and bare-stick trees.

Bluster faces those who decorate the landscape,
Braving the washed-out light of Autumn's wane,
Seeking the soul secrets within this simple grey space,
Walking the Earth paths under charcoal skies.

All these skies' promises whisper simply of curtains of white.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 11/14/2005

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.

Cherry Blossom Steps...



Spring petals soft scent,
Sweet fruit plucked by sun rise,
Petals litter grass.

Pink softness underfoot,
Blooming passion within hearts,
Whispers echo love.

Old monk's walking stick,
Dancing among petals here,
Cherry blossom steps.

Sun sets quietly,
All shadows stretch long and far,
Past life memories.

Spring petals soft scent,
Dancing among petals here,
All jade has faded.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 11/08/2005

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.

---

All of my currently available poetry Chapbooks are for sale at:
www.lulu.com/Daniel-Stafford

Fire Angel...

Walk upon the still waters,
Pouring down in silent sunshine,
The waves of blue that touch a poet's soul,
This vision of peace a gift,
Bow your head in silent prayer,
Nevertheless,
God hears you as clear,
As the color of your heart,
In that cool blue moment.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 04/04/2003


Note:

This is also the cover photo for my chapbook, "On God's Doorstep" at www.lulu.com. This image was taken with a 35mm camera - a $3.00 child's toy plastic camera, which was all I had at the time. It was scanned on a flatbed scanner, no digital re-touching was used - this is exactly how the image came out as developed by the film lab. It was taken early on a Saturday morning facing East towards Lake Michigan at the doorstep of the Madonna Della Strada Chapel, also known as "The Poem In Stone" at Loyola University's Lakeshore Campus. The chapbook features poems written on Saturday mornings at the chapel terrace, which is the place I call "God''s Doorstep." Each poem describes what it was like to be there on that given Saturday morning, what I was thinking and feeling, how it looked, etc, and is accompanied by a photo of one aspect of that part of the campus grounds. 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 Word Whizzyrd's Castle...

An airy place full of holes in the walls,
Gaping and black from spell blasts,
The stones are slowly uncrumbling and crawling back into place,
Even around the courtyard where the young whizzyrd played,
A healing spell on stones whipped up from sparkly grey dust,
Fossilized dragon scales and bones ground up.

The banks of the moat are jagged and cruel,
But the secret mejik spell is something like rocket fuel,
The whizzyrd begins chanting with arms raised to stormy skies,
Like a majestic balloon the entire castle begins to rise.

The guests are all unknowing as they party in the grand ballroom,
Sipping on zephyr honey and star twinkle wine,
Eating moonbeam soup from griffyn bone bowls with phoenix feather spoons,
*Puff* they go and the soup is glowing and hot,
The spoon rises from it's ashes for the next sip,
Moonbeam elf waiters bring kraken claw knives,
To cut the sunshine noodles from the blue sky.

Flying up to the edge of space,
The Word Whizzyrd castle begins to race,
Off to Saturn in a bubble of air and light,
Soon to chase ring baubles for an orbit in the endless night.

Won't they all be surprised the whizzyrd thinks to himself,
I'll give the whole party the grandest show,
Of shepherd moons made of fire and ice,
Huge dented rocks of mountainous size,
The coffee cream swirl of saturnine clouds,
And whiz-bang asteroid showers with basket ball sized diamonds,
Maybe mountains of pure gold.

Inviting the crowd for a roof-top dessert,
Cosmic ray candy with aurora borealis sauce lights,
Up the stairs they walk until gravity reverts,
Wide open eyes on a fanciful night flight.



AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 11/01/2005

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.

Nursery...

They call him Orion and he hunts the night skies,
Appearing above just as Winter wakes from Summer's heat,
You can see a sword hanging at his belt in the cool nights,
Yet not so many know what it guards,
What drives the hunter to the drawn bow.

A mystery it took Galileo and at least a century to resolve.

Right there,
Tucked away in that sword sheath,
Orion's nursery - a nebula where new stars are forming,
The fires of creation lend their soft glow to our nights,
Gracing Fall nights with a harvest of new light,
I've always wanted to go there.

The first thing I ever pointed a university telescope at.



AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 11/05/2005

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.

Exposure...

The lies that are told are no longer on hold,
The ice is all melting to reveal what it kept,
Every corner is filled with light,
Angels are circling and guiding moonbeams through the cobwebs,
The covers are all thrown back,
Pulled wool now faces Spring's sharp shears,
The scales will creep back into balance,
All the creeps will find dark corners,
Standing behind iron-barred shadows,
Sunlight streams into the cell they painted themselves into,
Meanwhile the mystic walks with a wooden staff,
Mumbling sunshine spells for poets to spill,
An afterthought of the Green Man dancing beneath Autumn trees.



AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 11/10/2005

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.

The Word Whizzyrd's Castle...

An airy place full of holes in the walls,
Gaping and black from spell blasts,
The stones are slowly uncrumbling and crawling back into place,
Even around the courtyard where the young whizzyrd played,
A healing spell on stones whipped up from sparkly grey dust,
Fossilized dragon scales and bones ground up.

The banks of the moat are jagged and cruel,
But the secret mejik spell is something like rocket fuel,
The whizzyrd begins chanting with arms raised to stormy skies,
Like a majestic balloon the entire castle begins to rise.

The guests are all unknowing as they party in the grand ballroom,
Sipping on zephyr honey and star twinkle wine,
Eating moonbeam soup from griffyn bone bowls with phoenix feather spoons,
*Puff* they go and the soup is glowing and hot,
The spoon rises from it's ashes for the next sip,
Moonbeam elf waiters bring kraken claw knives,
To cut the sunshine noodles from the blue sky.

Flying up to the edge of space,
The Word Whizzyrd castle begins to race,
Off to Saturn in a bubble of air and light,
Soon to chase ring baubles for an orbit in the endless night.

Won't they all be surprised the whizzyrd thinks to himself,
I'll give the whole party the grandest show,
Of shepherd moons made of fire and ice,
Huge dented rocks of mountainous size,
The coffee cream swirl of saturnine clouds,
And whiz-bang asteroid showers with basket ball sized diamonds,
Maybe mountains of pure gold.

Inviting the crowd for a roof-top dessert,
Cosmic ray candy with aurora borealis sauce lights,
Up the stairs the walk until gravity reverts,
Wide open eyes on a fanciful night flight.



AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 11/01/2005

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.