Saturday, June 30, 2018

Recovery Images For Poetic Constellations

Poetic Constellations is an online poetry forum that was originally hosted on It was later taken over by, which a few years after was taken over by

Through the EZBoard & Yuku years, the forum kept the same look. For myself and many other online poets, it was our cosmic poetic home.

When I was notified that the takeover by Tapatalk was coming, I hurriedly saved some of the forum graphics. I had seen another EZBoard-gone-Yuku forum get eaten by the Tapatalk monster, and the site was completely whitewashed, all graphic customizations lost as Tapatalk converted everything to their sterile fuschia-and-white nothingness. is a competing online discussion board provider, and one of our poets is helping us all move to that platform. Years of posted poetic history will be left in the bland white vault of Tapatalk, but at least the place will look something like out little poetic cosmos again.

These images are posted here for Queen Foxy, who has been working hard on this project. It's my way of relaying the graphics to her for use at our new online home.


New Post:

New Reply:

New Topic Create/'Reply Moon:

Sticky Post:

Constellations Gateway Logo:


Locked post


These are all I was able to save before the place was eaten by the Tapatalk beast.

Show Notes:

Happenings in the web poetry universe: I have a long history with web poetry, and there have been many changes over the years. A big change in my poetic universe is happening now. Also, a reading of my latest piece, "Squeezing Time Out Of A Clockwork Lemon..."


Squeezing Time Out Of A Clockwork Lemon...

Squeezing Time Out Of A Clockwork Lemon...

I live in a tight little universe of words,
My grip on moments of writing impelled,
Compressed by the numerolgy,
Soulless beeping numbers of the no-longer ticking,
Clocks that wind up being an anachronism.

I own one or five of those,
By choice.

If time were an orange,
Ray Bradbury could rejoice,
Cut it in ever-smaller wedges,
Knowing it was sweet.

Time is a lemon my friends,
Fertilized in the bowels of corporate crapitalism,
Sour and tart enough to wash windows,
An acid-etched thimble of life-juice.

Still I write,
Of seeds and sun and ancient things,
There in the juice and pulp of a quick-drying moment.

Perhaps this is why an alarm does what it does,
Makes me pucker and squint.


By Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 06/29/2018

Tuesday, June 26, 2018



Perhaps I love anachronisms so much,
Because they glow with the light,
That glamor of "better" than now,
That magic of what was or might be,
A lamplight free of dross and tedium,
Adventure and romance,
Unhindered by the day-to-day grind,
The sawdust steps of keeping up mere existence.

Princesses and pirates,
Of ancient kingdoms,
Or on the dying Mars of a forgotten future,
Long stories and fading candles.

The zip and zing of the medium of the day is exhausting,
Propagandized in extremity,
Sucking the life out of a vampire world that feeds on itself blindly.

Give me a journal and quill,
Stars I can see,
A woman of love and wit,
A ship on the sea or cosmos,
A destination luminous,
Along with the friends to accompany.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 06/25/2018

Wednesday, June 06, 2018

The Singing Fairy...

The Singing Fairy...

She could bend the world with her voice,
Hearts with a glance,
With pencil and pen and ink the universe was hers in a flash.

Swimming in dew pools or through the air,
With a quill in hand and song to lips,
All hearts,
All hearts,
Melting out your ears.

The world is all strung together with a laugh,
Didn't you know?

We'll never know what got her in the end,
But her song Forever,
It still echoes on the wind...

Just listen.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 06/20/2017

Author's Note:
For my dear departed friend Janine "Spinny" Daniel.
The background art on this blog was hers, and titled "Singing Fairy." Janine herself was a wonderful karaoke singer, poet, and as you can see, graphic artist. She will always be missed. Janine loved the wee folk, and drew them often and wonderfully.

I've scheduled this to post on the first anniversary of when I found out Janine had passed away. Perhaps I'll write another of her then, to keep the memory of my friend alive. - Dan

Sunday, June 03, 2018

Twisting Bits...

Twisting Bits...

I've spun electrons since I was two,
Smoked a finger almost like Franklin,
I could easily imagine a key on a kite string,
And flying kites is a joyful bit of wistful magic.

I've flown phone calls,
Spotted airplanes,
And kept the internet humming,
Now I'm learning all about twisting bits,
Logic pretzels if you will,
As twisted as this ol' brain.

It's funny,
But to keep a career in what I've always done,
I have to become certied to nine levels,
Though most of the world thinks it's black magic,
See all the pretty blinky lights?

My head is so wrapped in this world,
Though life is warping by outside my bubble,
It's like a black hole,
Or maybe Hotel California.

Maybe the poetry Gods can sneak me out for a minute,
But the event horizon is pulling,
Pulling hard.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 06/03/2018