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Sunday, December 14, 2025
A Silver And Gold Yule...
Friday, December 12, 2025
Captain Yule's Yuletide Chronicles...
Captain Yule's Yuletide Chronicles...
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| Captain Yule |
A seeker of stories,
A journalist of the contemporary Yuletide,
The magic can be green, white, red, or blue,
But it is memories that need to be shared,
The decorations,
The food,
The food fights,
The romance,
The breakups,
The makeups,
The bicycles and trees,
The socks and the ties,
The pies of pumpkin or pecan,
Whatever it is that you carry along.
Have a Cool Yule! (And share it.)
Captain Yule.
(C) 12-12-2025 by: Daniel A. Stafford
Captain Yule's Cool Yuletide Chronicles - Channel Intro:
Wednesday, December 10, 2025
We Passed Second Section On Monday.
Dan Stafford
Sunday, December 07, 2025
Finally Feeling The Christmas Spirit...
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| St. Nick's Yule |
Saturday, December 06, 2025
The Lost Worlds Of The Elder Geek...
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| Elder Geek |
How he longs for the soft internet of the nineties,
When ads were still around the borders of the page,
As un-moving as concrete in the Human jungle.
Wild and free was that West.
A search query brought up obscure pages from bloggers you never heard of,
Delights from the quiet corners of the Earth,
The hopes,
Dreams,
Poetry,
Wonders of the quiet night,
In it for the long read,
Un-disturbed,
Notification-free,
Just a mind and its screen,
A universe of innerspace,
Innocence lost.
The web has gone from sweet young chaos of discovery to bot-splatted distractory hell.
The worlds of wonder that we have lost,
One could weep for it,
If two ad videos and ten notifications didn't block their tear ducts with distractium.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 12-06-2025
When It Comes To Climbing Mountains...
I'm going to meet a new friend tomorrow for a spiritual journey.
We're going hiking on a walking trail to a place where fresh sage grows.
I'm taking my drum, and some gifts for Mother Earth.
Life is always about the journey, until it's about listening to the softer voices that whisper within.
There's no telling where the journey might lead, but we can always wish for something good and decent.
Thank you for reading.
Dan
Thursday, November 27, 2025
Let The Turkeys Run Free...
Let The Turkeys Run Free...
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| "Autumn Creek" created by Gemini 3.0 & Nano Banana from prompt by Daniel A. Stafford |
I am thankful for... The sky over my head so I can breathe.
I am thankful for... The wife who I love, and who loves me back.
I am thankful for... The world below my feet, so that I have a place to stand, and that allows everything else I am thankful for to be.
I am thankful for... The farmers who grow the food so that I can eat.
I am thankful for... The family I come from so that I can be here at all.
I am thankful for... The blankets and pillows on my bed so I can sleep when I am tired.
I am thankful for... The home that keeps us housed, warm, or cool, depending on the season.
I am thankful for... The floor sweepers, the electricians, the plumbers, the carpenters, the IT technicians, the concrete pourers, the landscape workers, the clerks, the servers, the ship builders, the warehouse workers, the auto mechanics, the diesel mechanics, the cashiers, the hosts and hostesses, the cleaning crew at hotels, the ditch diggers, the doctors, the dentists, the dental hygienists, the nurses, the optometrists, the architects, the museum docents, the park rangers, the snow plow and truck drivers, and every other person who makes everything around me function. If you go to work every day, I respect you and am grateful for you.
I am thankful for... The people who give to charities when times are tough.
I am thankful for... The people who have lived on this land for millennia, and try to teach us ways to help life on it survive, whenever we are wise enough to listen.
I am thankful for... The people of all colors and cultures who bring us wonderful new things to make our community and society stronger, richer, and full of wonderful things.
I am thankful for... Books, so that I can learn and read stories.
I am thankful for... Freedom of speech, so that I know who is good and kind, and who is not.
I am thankful for... You.
Happy Thanksgiving, with love.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 11-27-2025
Image prompt: "Please create an image of at least 20 wild turkeys walking through a valley where the hills on either side are covered in Autumn leaves, a babbling creek runs along the bottom with shiny river rocks and rainbow trout swimming in an eddy pool near the point of view, and there are vattails growing and tufting at the near edge, and milkweed with burstin pods near the creek, a couple of pheasants on one side of the creek, and a red fox on the other. Have a few wild gourds growing near the creek as well. Make the sky a soft charcoal grey overcast with a slight fog rising from the creek. Use watercolor as the media."
Sunday, November 23, 2025
When Poets Became Master Magicians...
I wrinkled my nose @ scents of a technological onion in #2025,
& being the #MWGIC,
I wrote of the time that #poetry became wild & dangerous,
4suddenly #poets were the geniuses of tech,
And where there is #blackpoetry there must be #whitepoetry, & maybe gray, like #magic
https://futurism.com/artificial-intelligence/universal-jailbreak-ai-poems
AquarianM
Friday, November 14, 2025
Tikinauts Episode 1, Chapter 3: Inside The Mothership
Thursday, November 13, 2025
Tikinauts Episode 1 Chapter 3: The Mothership
Tikinauts Episode 1 Chapter 2: Party Gods
Tikinauts Episode 1... The Arrival
They came from a water world being boiled by its sun thousands of years ago.
Tuesday, November 11, 2025
My First Virtual Tournament...
Dan Stafford,
Saturday, November 08, 2025
The Dragon Lounge Dojo...
Tuesday, November 04, 2025
The Tired Horse...
Sunday, November 02, 2025
Bamboo Grasshopper Blues...
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| The Blues Of Feeling Better |
The Bamboo Grasshopper...
An endless journey,
Moves that are crystalline fluid,
The Master will always tweak,
A voice that never leaves your head,
Gathering chi with every breath,
Hoping for a graceful flow,
So you can feather-dance on rice paper,
For the rest of your life,
The moves will haunt you,
Like the ghosts of old friends,
A spirit life that you strive to fold into,
Always reaching for that latest move,
Always better,
Always getting better,
A never-ending reason to move.
Keep moving.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 11/02/2025
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| Bamboo Grasshopper |
Sunday, October 26, 2025
Poets' Trance...
Dan Stafford
F the algorithms, power to the blogging people!
Empty Hands, Force, And Energy...
Saturday, October 11, 2025
Pine Trails Inn Sunday Bloody Mary Special
So as it turns out, in the summer of 1988, I went to bartend at the Pine Trails Inn in Hazlehurst, Wisconsin.
This little bar was owned by a friend of my mom's, and the previous bartender had been stealing out of the till.
Pine Trails Inn had a weekly Sunday bloody mary special. People used to come from miles around for the bloody Marys.
I used to make the drinks for them, so I know the secret recipe that made them come from miles around.
Since the bar closed in the fall of 1988 I'm pretty sure I'm safe to release the secret recipe.
It calls for stock bloody Mary mix, probably the Cuttars, and a shot or two of vodka, and then a quarter teaspoon of creamy horseradish sauce, and a dash of Worcestershire sauce in a Tumblr. Salt or season the rim, add a stick of celery, add some olives on a stick.
And there you have it the secret of the Pine Trails Inn Sunday bloody mary special.
This also might have something to do with my son being born, since I met his mother there. That, however, is an entirely different story.
Regards,
Dan Stafford
Sunday, October 05, 2025
The Mystery Painter Of My Autumn Youth
Wednesday, August 27, 2025
Dulcet Caramel Butter of the Heart...
Monday, August 04, 2025
Firelight In Our Bones...
Saturday, August 02, 2025
The Never Stop Moving Blues...
Sunday, July 27, 2025
Time Of Joy...
| Author | Date Entered/Modified | Views |
| Daniel A. Stafford | 11/12/2000 8:41:14 PM 10/16/2006 6:31:13 AM | 134 |
Time Of Joy:
Time is a limited dimension,
Each of us apportioned,
Unequally, unevenly,
Our cups at the table filled at random.
We drink our cups in hasty gulps of pleasure,
In cautious sips of measure,
Often not realizing our greatest treasure,
Enjoying the content of the cup we are given.
There is a way to sweeten our cup and those around ours,
Put a drop of love in each moment,
A taste of consideration along with,
A sprig of peaceful tenderness,
Say a kind word with each sip you take.
Add a dollop of smile,
In fact, keep it with you all the while,
Somewhere in time, you've crafted the cup of joy.
Share the recipe openly.
That is accomplishment.
I'm thankful for those I love.
I'm thankful for those I like.
I'm thankful for moments when I make them smile,
When I see in their faces they're happy for awhile.
I'm thankful for the cameo moments.
I'm thankful for the chance to make this world a nicer place.
I'm thankful for each time I manage to fulfill that chance.
May all of you who read this poem, in brief,
Drink from a cup of joy, and give to love your belief.
Be Well.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C)2000
By: Daniel A. Stafford
Author's Comments
Here's to a wonderful Thanksgiving, and all
the blessings life can bestow, I hope that God may
grant you all in goodwill.
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| ART PAUL SCHLOSSER | artpaul@mailcity.com | http://www.arlotone.com/artpaul/index.html | 11/14/2000 2:57:44 PM |
| This poem is very beautiful and very true and I hope Dan you have a good Thanksgiving too. | |||
Rocket Car Dreams...
| Author | Date Entered/Modified | Views |
| Daniel A. Stafford | 9/8/2001 2:03:29 AM 10/16/2006 7:03:10 AM | 793 |
Rocket Car Dreams:
I used to dream of flying high,
Up above the road,
I'd take my sky blue Monte Carlo,
And swoosh right on by,
I had a mad scheme for electric rockets,
That would zap the very air,
And I go swooshing thrillingly,
Oh somewhere way up there,
And you see a '72 Monte,
Whoosh right over your head,
I had a zillion fantasies,
Of showing up Mustangs shiny red,
And when I'd found my girlfriend,
It wouldn't matter where she lived,
I'd pick her up in style,
And we'd travel for lunch a hundred miles,
While the stereo was rocking,
And when we landed everyone would stare,
It would go right to both our heads,
How silly such dreams might seem,
Until I learned to write a poem,
For now I can live them out,
And let my imagination roam,
So if you should see twin oval tail lights,
Red up in the sky,
Be glad it's not my headlights,
Swooping at your eye!
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 09/08/2001
By: Daniel A. Stafford
Author's Comments
I owned a sky blue 1972 Monte Carlo
back in the early 1980's, and it had a huge motor &
was very fast. (454 CI w/ dual 2.5", headers, TH-400, 4.11 posi, 4bbl)
The motor was from a pickup truck, and I still miss that car dearly.
I had an idea for an electric rocket years ago, (Which actually would've
worked, but not enough to move a car.) One of my favorite fantasies
was to build a rocket car & go flying overhead freaking people out
and having fun. Alas, the car never left the ground, but it left my hands.
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| Andrea D | pieces_ofmy_heart@yahoo.com | http://www.geocities.com/pieces_ofmy_heart/ | 9/8/2001 2:20:48 AM |
| hehe.....I love this, the dreams we had as kids!! I was gonna grow up to be a princess and live in a castle and be a ballerina and a movie star and..... Thanks for sharing your memories and making me smile as I remember mine :-) Andrea | |||
Resonance...
| Author | Date Entered/Modified | Views |
| Daniel A. Stafford | 7/10/2002 7:50:10 AM 10/16/2006 7:14:59 AM | 76 |
Resonance:
It comes home in news print every day,
That little voice you know,
The one that tells you,
Is this mean, or what?
Plain and clear black and white.
Oh, you know what it is,
Sure you do,
After all it's easy to decide,
If you'd like it done to you.
Can you find the other shoe in the picture?
It happens in an instant,
You can feel it clear and strong,
Right off when you look,
"Man, this is WRONG."
Halo to one ear, pitchfork to the other.
The problem comes in,
When we're too close to see,
After all no one believes,
That mean could ever equal......me?
It's hard to look in the mirror when it's hot.
But you see the results,
Time after time,
How the acid of hatred,
Eats away a once kind heart.
"He never used to be mean, he was such a kind child."
Remember the bitter old people,
Isolated and alone and angry they are,
How they speak of faults,
Living mostly on "when I was...."
Glory days only pass you by if you aren't glorious.
It's obvious when you look,
How so easily anger erodes the soul,
But there's more to it than that,
It adds to an ugly whole.
Anger begets anger, fear begets fear.
It's a simple choice really,
But for some a hard pill to swallow,
But if you can always step back,
Maybe a second breath is a bit easier.
Take another glance at your life.
What is anger anyway,
Just an instinctual reaction to fear,
Look under the rug,
You'll find that particular bug.
Any child understands this clearly.
So what frequency do you vibrate,
What color is your soul adding to,
The red carnage of fear and anger,
Or the soft blue-greens of love and life?
Everything everyone does adds up to a certain,
Resonance.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 07/10/2002
By: Daniel A. Stafford
Author's Comments
I especially relate to this week's
topic challenge. I've written before
on several occasions about how the
things we do can add their energy to the
quality of life on this world. Acts based
on anger are at their heart a reaction to
fear, and add to the fear of others,
and endless feedback loop until it's
countered with acts of kindness - which
are based on compassion, who's root is
love. It's really very simple. And no one
really needs religious training or moral
teaching to understand the simple divining
rod that will always answer the question of
where do our actions come from and contribute to.
It's simple - "Would I want done to me what
I am contemplating doing, or said to me what
I intend to say?" That will tell you right away.
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| Daniel A. Stafford |
Star Parties...
| Author | Date Entered/Modified | Views |
| Daniel A. Stafford | 8/28/2001 2:06:39 AM 10/16/2006 7:18:51 AM | 1352 |
Star Parties:
Out in the desert at night the stars come out.
At Frank Sinatra's in the fifties the stars come out.
Brightly.
Out in the desert at night a satellite dances through the Pleades.
At Frank Sinatra's Marylin Monroe sways in silk voluptuous.
Sweetly.
Out in the desert at night a camp fire flickers a warm companion.
At Frank Sinatra's Judy Garland sings a duet with Old Blue eyes.
Divinely.
Out in the desert at night friends take turns at the telescope and wonder.
At Frank Sinatra's guests take moonlight dips in the pool.
Cooling.
Out in the desert at night they talk of places they'd visit in the heavens.
At Frank Sinatra's they talk of movies they'd make if they were directing.
Visionary.
Out in the desert at night they roast marshmallows and tell ghost stories under the Milky Way.
At Frank Sinatra's Dean Martin sings songs while Irving Berlin plays piano.
Reveling.
Out in the desert the sunrise washes the sky in warm glowing pastels.
At Frank Sinatra's The shadows of morning sun form the keys of the piano shaped pool.
Passing.
Slowly the guests meander on home,
A night in wonder and glamors and warm joy,
And things of beauty that you wish were forever,
But you can only see the stars while they can shine.
Twinkle on, sweet ones.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 08/28/2001
By: Daniel A. Stafford
Author's Comments
Two places I would love to be & see,
This poem lets me get close.
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| Shah Pravinchandra Kasturchand | pravinkshah_2000@yahoo.com | http://home.talkcity.com/LibraryLawn/pravinchandra/ | 8/29/2001 12:39:49 PM |
| Daniel, Everything in the desert is bright,sweet, divine,cool,visionary,reveling and passing.Great man alone can bring the dry desert to vibrating life. Regards and all the best. | |||
She Was Blue...
| Author | Date Entered/Modified | Views |
| Daniel A. Stafford | 9/3/2002 3:26:53 AM 10/14/2006 10:13:25 PM | 1034 |
She Was Blue:

She was a blue china doll,
Away in a blue room,
Where blue water had bubbles floating up,
In an aquarium lit with blue lights,
And she had a blue suede covered notebook,
With a blue pen loaded with blue ink,
And she wrote blue music to blue poems,
Wearing her too hip blue jeans,
All the while cussing a blue streak,
Because she was trying for and missing true blue,
And when the blue lights came on,
Over a blue stage with royal blue curtains,
The blue guitar twanged under a slider,
The blue bass thumped out a broken heart,
The blues harp moaned and wailed so sad,
And the only other color after her blue dress,
Was that silver mike reflecting all that blue,
Focussing the blue like a beam,
To hear it just sent a blue chill,
Right down even a blue blood spine,
And just as the bluebird of happiness,
Perched on the blue sash on her shoulder,
The result of her blue loving the music,
Turned every heart in the room blue,
A shade of very cool, lonely, blue....
I can still hear her, she was blue,
Just.....blue.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 09/02/2002
Hear it my way: She Was Blue...
By: Daniel A. Stafford
Author's Comments
Love the Blues and like the legends,
Maybe a singer like this, they would call
the Blue Ice Queen, but this is just a very,
very blue fantasy dream.
The picture posted above is my design for the cover of a demo CD of poetry reading that I am working on. I have a rough copy burned, I'm working on a bit of polish on the four tracks, which will be: 1. She Was Blue 2. Slowfire 3. Cigar Smoke In Old Havana 4. Stardust Falling.
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| Shah Pravinchandra Kasturchand | pravinkshah@indiatimes.com | 9/4/2002 10:44:26 AM | |
| Shah Pravinchandra Kasturchand | pravinkshah@indiatimes.com | 9/4/2002 10:59:15 AM | |
| Daniel, I hope you do not want every thing to turn blue. An ocean of blue hue; Touched blood once But that also blue; Nothing except blue. I am not in any doubt Beauty blue Ice Queen left with no option To rise from Blue Fantasy Dream Best regards. | |||
Sail Upon A Soft Glow...
| Author | Date Entered/Modified | Views |
| Daniel A. Stafford | 11/3/2001 2:07:27 AM 10/15/2006 6:56:56 AM | 832 |
Sail Upon A Soft Glow:
A gentle written note,
As hushed and husky,
As a smitten lover's voice,
Long on love,
Late in the candle lights,
Lost somewhere behind your eyes,
Will you read love sweet,
Wishing two could meet,
Where the Moon softly glows,
As you sway upon glittered feet,
Arms wrapped close about you,
Arias and alabaster skin aglow,
You sway over the glass block floors,
Yearning for a soft nibbled ear,
Yes is somewhere mysteriously near,
Say you'll kiss me so tender and sweet,
Singing in my ear for only me to hear,
Sweetness your gift is,
Yet to lead to lover's rosy bliss,
Out upon the terrace for another kiss,
Under poetic seduction as you've always missed.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 11/03/2001
By: Daniel A. Stafford
Author's Comments
A spin around the ballroom.....
For my sweet Saren.....not enough of this could ever be.
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| Debbie Hunt | hu6nt@yahoo.com.au | 11/5/2001 4:44:56 PM | |
| Dan, I especially loved the last line, 'Under poetic seduction as you've always missed.' Well written! Debbie | |||
| APoetsPerspective | 12/4/2001 7:18:19 AM | ||
| Dan, this one started out on a gentle written note, yet was filled with such imagery and passion. very good! - wei | |||
| Sharon Wilshire | sewilshire@cox.net | 12/4/2001 8:33:01 AM | |
| Daniel, What a lovely spin around the ball room! I could just picture you and your wonderful Saren. Sharon | |||
| Leigh | leigh@leighscorner.com | http://leighscorner.com/ | 12/7/2001 7:23:01 PM |
| Dan, "As hushed and husky, As a smitten lover's voice" .... Simply exquisite! Wow ... my heart went "ohhhhhhhh" :o) Beyond romantic ... Congratulations on winning, Dan! This one was a given! :) Leigh | |||










