How do YOU say "cheese"?
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Monday, January 5, 2009
Dorion Carroll - Technorati.com
Huge 4 bloggers. I had no idea. Web 2.0 Heroes
Words are the mind's bridge - its connection to all the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - its connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
Alan Meckler - Internet.com
Wow. Web 2.0 Heroes no. 2
Words are the mind's bridge - its connection to all the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - its connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
Max Mancini of Ebay
Reading his interview in Web 2.0 Heroes. Fascinating.
Words are the mind's bridge - its connection to all the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - its connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
I like Twittermail...
Even more now. Nice to tweet 2 both @ 1ce.
Words are the mind's bridge - its connection to all the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - its connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
I've separated Word Whizzyrds from Plainfield Live Poetry
See http://plainfieldlivepoetry.blogspot.com/ for Western Chicago suburbs poetry reading and event news.
I've separated PLP from Word Whizzyrds.
Word Whizzyrds is my personal writing site.
PLP is dedicated to local poetry readings.
Regards,
Dan
I've separated PLP from Word Whizzyrds.
Word Whizzyrds is my personal writing site.
PLP is dedicated to local poetry readings.
Regards,
Dan
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Blog consolidation or amplified posting tools
I'm considering how to maybe consolidate some of my (over 20) blogs so that I can either post to all at once, or just post to a couple of them.
I have several niche blogs, a few personal hobbies, and a few more serious ones. However, my most successful blog to date has been The Great Lakes Zephyr - Wind Energy & Hydrogen Journal.
The Zephyr usually gets anywhere from 20-100+ hits per day, depending on how regularly I can keep up with posting it. It really needs to have its template updated, and I need to figure out a better way to keep up with posts there. However, it is a very well-defined niche, and my interests are so eclectic that I'd feel confined just having that blog.
I would definitely keep Word Whizzyrds at the least. That would let me drift to other topics at leisure, a more personal-interest blog for now.
At any rate, I'm looking into how to be more effective with at least one or two of my blogs. the rest are just fun stuff. Hmm.
More later.
Dan
I have several niche blogs, a few personal hobbies, and a few more serious ones. However, my most successful blog to date has been The Great Lakes Zephyr - Wind Energy & Hydrogen Journal.
The Zephyr usually gets anywhere from 20-100+ hits per day, depending on how regularly I can keep up with posting it. It really needs to have its template updated, and I need to figure out a better way to keep up with posts there. However, it is a very well-defined niche, and my interests are so eclectic that I'd feel confined just having that blog.
I would definitely keep Word Whizzyrds at the least. That would let me drift to other topics at leisure, a more personal-interest blog for now.
At any rate, I'm looking into how to be more effective with at least one or two of my blogs. the rest are just fun stuff. Hmm.
More later.
Dan
Saturday, January 3, 2009
01/03/2009 Poetweet:
Poetweet - late night sweets, tea and reading treats. Pages finger-burn the world, full of everything under the stars. Whirliword dimension
Friday, January 2, 2009
01/02/2009 Poetweet...
Poetweet: Dreams of the Maker are scars on the Universe. Orchid petals in a swamp; do they still scent well overwhelmed? Dream, Man. Dream.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Winter is calling my name...
...and AquarianM will answer.
Back in January of 2002, I started a fantasy novel entitled "AquarianM and the Heart of Winter." I had only barely begun when a Forgotten realms title which was nearly identical came out. Harry Potter was also quite fresh at the time.
I then decided to shelve the project until the other book with the very similar title had run its course.
The Harry Potter series is now also a wonderful, comfortable old shoe in literature. A classic to be treasured. However, it's been on the scene long enough that I can come back to my story, which has some similar elements and would target a similar audience/demographic.
If I can break ground with this, I have another very special concept waiting to follow.
The best fun is, I have a possible co-writer for the rest of AquarianM and The Heart of Winter. I love doing collaborative works online, especially with a talented female writer. It lends an authentic feminine perspective on the story that makes it more detailed and believable.
Keep this note in the back of your minds, because I'm hoping to drive this one home in the next year or so.
Dan
Back in January of 2002, I started a fantasy novel entitled "AquarianM and the Heart of Winter." I had only barely begun when a Forgotten realms title which was nearly identical came out. Harry Potter was also quite fresh at the time.
I then decided to shelve the project until the other book with the very similar title had run its course.
The Harry Potter series is now also a wonderful, comfortable old shoe in literature. A classic to be treasured. However, it's been on the scene long enough that I can come back to my story, which has some similar elements and would target a similar audience/demographic.
If I can break ground with this, I have another very special concept waiting to follow.
The best fun is, I have a possible co-writer for the rest of AquarianM and The Heart of Winter. I love doing collaborative works online, especially with a talented female writer. It lends an authentic feminine perspective on the story that makes it more detailed and believable.
Keep this note in the back of your minds, because I'm hoping to drive this one home in the next year or so.
Dan
Sunday, December 28, 2008
12-30-2008 Poetweet:
Poetweet: Time and space bend 'round your words, the only blisters seared by willful ignorance. Dancing with light and fire, upon ice spun.
Monday, December 22, 2008
12-21-2008 Poetweet...
Poetweet: Raging winds whipping ice crystals like bad ponies, express'll freeze your face as clouds of snow put on a mad race. Bye, Mercury.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
12-20-2008 Poetweet...
Poetweet: Head's spinning with magic - holiday dash or two - twinkles and lights and pretty music, no romance left unturned. *Falling hush*
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Happy Holidays...
Christmas is coming near again, and a new year will soon arrive. Here's wishing all of you a Merry Christmas and joyful holidays no matter which you celebrate. Let's hope for a new year filled with peace, prosperity, joy, and compassion in 2008.
Thank you for reading,
Dan Stafford
12-18-2008 Poetweet...
Poetweet: Late the hour, screen aglow, candles great but old-school, Sylvester can stay home. I'm a happy bird, even caged. It's a choice.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
12-17-2008 Poetweet...
Poetweet: Last light shining, the board dark, poetbirds flew intersoular space. Alone in verse. http://mysticmuse.proboards...
Mars Phoenix Syndrome...
Mars Phoenix Syndrome...
The board has gone dark,
All circuits silent,
Alone on Mars in cold red sand,
The poetry of endings all that’s left to write,
I am the ghost,
The cipher,
The living epitaph of a dream,
Alone on a sojourn through the universe,
My companions’ signals have faded out of reception,
Yet I coast on,
Across intersoular space,
Dreaming there’s a Universe to hear.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 12/17/2008
Author’s Note:
Requiem for Mystic Muse poetry board – it seems I am the last of the last.
http://mysticmuse.proboards17.com/index.cgi
The board has gone dark,
All circuits silent,
Alone on Mars in cold red sand,
The poetry of endings all that’s left to write,
I am the ghost,
The cipher,
The living epitaph of a dream,
Alone on a sojourn through the universe,
My companions’ signals have faded out of reception,
Yet I coast on,
Across intersoular space,
Dreaming there’s a Universe to hear.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 12/17/2008
Author’s Note:
Requiem for Mystic Muse poetry board – it seems I am the last of the last.
http://mysticmuse.proboards17.com/index.cgi
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
12-16-2008 Poetweet
Poetweet: I'll take a break - in my arm, if only my shoe could fly - straight. It's a disgusting face, looking better in leather, lotsa sole
Monday, December 15, 2008
Poetweets...
Poetweets...
I'm doing Twitter - http://www.twitter.com - which is like a vast, interconnected multi-user blog that only allows posts of at max 140 characters. I'm planning on trying to do poetic tweets, which are poetry Twitter posts (Poetweets is my made-up label for it) as a kind of new-fangled internet-age haiku. Instead of syllabic rules, the only rule is 140 characters max. Here's my 1st shot:
"The winds are cold and the Moon is full, the times as interesting and sharp as diamonds. Cut or glitter, it'll hook you hard. Live harder."
Poetweet: Sun over frigid, Mind over monstrous, Love over lie, Never ever forgo Endeavor, Clocks can't be beat, No chance for retreat, Love.
Poetweet: Mangled mangoes of uncertain origins tangled tangles - wicked flies, walked 2 Wall Street - everyone was wearing a funky disguise.
Poetweet: Living inside my head, a lot of depth with shallow waves. Walk outside and breathe the air, easy on the lungs, hard on the heart.
I'm doing Twitter - http://www.twitter.com - which is like a vast, interconnected multi-user blog that only allows posts of at max 140 characters. I'm planning on trying to do poetic tweets, which are poetry Twitter posts (Poetweets is my made-up label for it) as a kind of new-fangled internet-age haiku. Instead of syllabic rules, the only rule is 140 characters max. Here's my 1st shot:
"The winds are cold and the Moon is full, the times as interesting and sharp as diamonds. Cut or glitter, it'll hook you hard. Live harder."
Poetweet: Sun over frigid, Mind over monstrous, Love over lie, Never ever forgo Endeavor, Clocks can't be beat, No chance for retreat, Love.
Poetweet: Mangled mangoes of uncertain origins tangled tangles - wicked flies, walked 2 Wall Street - everyone was wearing a funky disguise.
Poetweet: Living inside my head, a lot of depth with shallow waves. Walk outside and breathe the air, easy on the lungs, hard on the heart.
Friday, December 12, 2008
I've been on Twitter of late...
...and I'm loving it. Catch up with me at http://twitter.com/AquarianM - 4 the small stuff.
Also, this Saturday will be the monthly meeting of the Bolingbrook Writers' Group - a merry band of three of us, sometimes six, that meets and does a "read & comment" session one Saturday a month. Of course, I'll be reading my latest poetry, which you can usually find in the document library at www.lightverse.com.
Thanks for reading, & happy holidays.
Dan
Also, this Saturday will be the monthly meeting of the Bolingbrook Writers' Group - a merry band of three of us, sometimes six, that meets and does a "read & comment" session one Saturday a month. Of course, I'll be reading my latest poetry, which you can usually find in the document library at www.lightverse.com.
Thanks for reading, & happy holidays.
Dan
Thursday, November 20, 2008
My New Sax Blog...
... is called "66 Sax" after my 1966 Selmer Bundy tenor sax, "Bello." (Serial number 411559 - and the name is a play on the English word for making a loud noise or yell, and the the Italian word for "handsome.")
You can check it out here: http://66sax.blogspot.com/ - including my healing Earth song, "Pacha Mama Prayer."
Regards and have fun,
Dan
Thursday, October 2, 2008
First Dance Of Fall...
Waving, swaying, rustling,
Afternoon sunshine slanted and low,
Birds flocking on wires,
The tufts of grasses rise again,
September is flowing away softly on the wind,
Dreams start to take life and flight,
Turning inward we dance hypnotic,
A closeness of spirits drifts across our minds,
Bounty near and held in spectacle,
First dance of the Fall.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 10/02/2008
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Poetry Of Late...
I Was Born On A River…
September, 2008 Poetry Submission,
Bolingbrook Writers Group
Fountaindale Public Library,
Bolingbrook, Illinois USA 09/27/2008
By Daniel A. Stafford
Contents:
1. A Consecrated Magical Tool
2. Soft Water Blue
3. Raucous Echo At Eleven
4. Gulf Coast Prayers
5. In Between Skins
6. A Lot Of Candle Light
7. Climbing The Tree
8. If A Raindrop Had Eyes
9. For Want Of An Olive
10. Our Hands
11. I Was Born On A river
A Consecrated Magical Tool…
She’s a high priestess from California,
Working magic amidst the sunbeams,
Playing her harp in mystical fashion,
She’ll raise your hopes and open your consciousness,
A darling voice playing under pagan trees joyfully,
Whispering spells of love and success so gently.
She speaks of her harp by its given name,
Enchanted trance-fingers dance the strings by candle light,
When the moon is silver she’ll croon her highest power,
And take your soul on a distant flight,
Breathless and wondering,
Wood and strings she claims are a consecrated magical tool,
Just as any musician would know and say,
Upon recovering breath from when they play.
I know the feeling in my own space,
Bello glints yellow brass about the place,
I seek the notes where the magic lies,
The one that make my hackles happily rise,
For in music there’s such simple joy,
To uplift the spirit we all play to employ.
You can’t play a song to cast a curse,
Because if you try nasty noise will burst,
Over every ear about the place,
Such blasphemy flies back in your face.
You know you know this – it’s a simple spell,
When you play your favorite songs space and time are a deeper well,
Transported away by the treasures of many,
Instruments are a sacred gift,
Come God or gods entrusted to few,
All consecrated magical tools.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 09/20/2008
Author's Comments
*Note: to find the inspiration for this piece, search “Regan High Priestess” and read the latest blog entry on her site.*
Soft Water Blue...
At the beach house again,
Low and slow waves of relaxation,
Young relatives leaving as we arrive,
Passing each other on the sandy path that leads to and from the beach,
"Beach switch" they call it.
The sky starts off cloudless,
Sunshine ripples on calm waters,
Seventy shades of blue and waves topping at one and a half feet.
Plant a folding chair in the yellow-tan sand,
Take off the last vestiges of the modern world,
Except your suit.
The water is chill at first,
Ice lapping slowly up from feet to waist as you wade in,
At some point near there it's just too much,
You have to dive and get it over.
Swimming long and cool,
The waves and boat wakes push you down the beach,
Splashing against your face every now and then,
Reminder of the Lake's power.
As you stare out where sky meets seemingly endless water,
You remember the school of minnows that dodged your feet as you waded in.
Sea gulls glide overhead and float on the waves,
Their brothers and sisters scamper about the beach.
Sun hats and beach chairs dot the sand for more than a mile in either direction.
There is a thick haze on the Western horizon,
It cocoons you into a world of sand and grass and blue and breeze.
People walk dogs up and down the lapping waves,
A cigarette boat roars colorful across the horizon.
You sit drying in the hot sun,Sand squeezed between your toes,
Absorbing every moment you can steal or beg - just being.
A cheeky sea gull waddles around your chair,Curious but not quite close.
A wall of clouds covers the evening sun,
You pack up and climb sand for a shower.
It's just begun.
AquarianM
© 09/02/2008
By: Daniel A. Stafford
*Notes from last week vacation.
Raucous Echo At Eleven...
It's everywhere,
The maudlin whispers,
That celebration of darkness,
A whisper of ghosts from within a black cloud.
The cries and whimpers haunt me,
As I wonder of answers and illusions,
It's all a matter of trust - lacking.
I saw things my own eyes tell me aren't physically possible,
I see shame and sadness in nooks and crannies across the land,
Wondering who won what and remembering the cost,
All the answers in the universe pale,
No matter their say.
Echoes, echoes, echoes and screams - I remember - even without belief.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 09/11/2008
Author's Comments
9/11/2001, shrouded in controversy and politics, is at its heart a horror story of lost lives and lost freedoms. The people and the ideals are what really mattered, and I, for one, will never forget.
Gulf Coast Prayers...
Reading, hearing seeing, dreading.
The weak among us are running for their lives,
The lives scattered and broken for three years,
Faded for many of us,
Ignored by the seemingly strongest of us.
The monster Gustav comes howling and all you can do is beg.
Beg the sky to be gentle,
Beg the sea to forgive and rock softly,
Beg God to forgive our errors and protect our brothers and sisters.
This is why many never went back home.
This comes before we're even close to cleaning up the last one.
If we could reach out and pull them North we would.
Pray, pray, pray - for mercy.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
08/31/2008 - copyright donated to public domain.
In Between Skins...
The drum beats softly,
Heartbeat across lands and continents,
Frequencies of light invisible,
No colors left.One world - one tribe - one family,
Members bellicose and benign a common thread.
Dance for the world,
Move for life,
Seeing tree leaves and wind and rain,
A web of life interconnected.
Spirit lies between skins,
Breathing the same air and water,
Every soul and piece of creation,
Recycled from endless time.
There is no here and there,
Only everywhere,
Lines in the sand are wind-blown nothingness,
Figment of a moment ephemeral.
Neither the sun nor moon care for sight,
Yet light is given freely,
Stars are had by all,
None is the wiser.
The arts of division equal to a prison,
Something is changing the equation,
Finally we breathe freely,
Regardless of fear or word one world.
Every disillusion must pass - it's clearly time.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 08/22/2008
A Lot Of Candle Light…
It’s August 16th again,
The candles are lit again,
In parade.
The songs we sing are sung again,
For the losses of summer,
Things dear never to be forgotten,
Neither humor nor heartache.
Memphis is glowing tonight.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 08/16/2008
In Memory of Elvis Aaron Presley,
01/08/1935-08/16/1977
Climbing The Tree…
Drumbeats like gumdrops on my mind,
Ripples on the pool I throw my troubles into,
Prayers of guidance and protection wash my mind,
Lush green and cool in the forest where the cave lies,
Deep inside,
The roots permeate All,
Tree of life,
Up or down I climb,
Another world of symbols,
Like wisps of candle light,
August is half-by,I
am opened tonight.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 08/15/2008
If A Raindrop Had Eyes...
Floating in a sea of breezes,
Heated, excited, expanded,
The sky is pulling and I fly from blue to nearly black.
Chilled through I shrink,
Speeding toward a mountain top,
Sparkling like a jewel in a sea of stars.
Resting in windy frozen silence,
Contemplating stars and sunshine,
A crack - and my congregation bullets down-slope.
Warming we slither down in congregation,
Picking up toys to play with,
Rocks and pebbles and sticks and paper and molecules.
We sweep all before us,
Anything lying or thrown in our path,
Pills and dead weeds and the things that killed them.
Muddy we sweep into the sea,
Carrying it all,
And some we even keep when we expand up.
Some day soon you'll drink me - and all that I carry.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 03/28/2008
For Want Of An Olive...
I stalk down memory lane hiding,
Lest a breath blow away my ghosts,
Hearing whispers of happy times,
A place where dreams were infinite.
You cant lose here as long as you dont disturb anything.
The filters that bring me to this place are diverse,
Songs or dishes or old antiques,
Some wisp of yesteryear on the internet,
A picture haunting a magazine page.
I can never get enough, how about you?
I tread with utmost caution,
Trying to glimpse anything I've forgotten,
Put it in my treasure box,
Filled with the ultimate of ultimates memories.
My hunger growls from my gut - unquenchable.
For want of an olive my shadows hear me,
Running off to Heaven on rainbow wings,
Discovery thwarted by distraction,
A lack of hypnosis and focus.
I awaken starving for more sleep.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 02/28/2008
Our Hands...
A hammer is light,
Swinging it flashes,
Nails driven quicksilver,
Houses or crosses,
In our hands.
Fish hooks and old leather,
Falling coconuts adrift,
Dying palms in a rising sea,
A plastic swirl bigger than the USA,
All at our hands.
A garden of summer delights,
Picnic for the hungry,
By the lazy riverside,
Flying cottonwood seed,
Prepared and tended by our hands.
Double edges need no swords.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 03/06/2008
I Was Born On A River…
I was born in the midst of frost and snow,
Ice jagged on the riverbanks,
Stars chilled almost still on a cold night,
Some small town I still see magic in.
The old lagoon used to freeze over,
Ice skaters in the warming house,
Now the paddleboats reign,
A fresh coat of paint on the doors.
The people that imbued that place with magic,
It seems many have fled to someplace higher,
Or flowed down the stream of life,
Salmon run out to sea.
Springtime comes and the fish jump,
Life awakens all about,
Green water and green hills,
Trees budding in the scent of river water.
New dandelions flower,
Tadpoles turn to frogs,
Cottonwood seed floats in the sunlight,
Yet the limestone blocks of the water tower stand.
I was born on a river,
Where the current never stops.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 01/31/2008
September, 2008 Poetry Submission,
Bolingbrook Writers Group
Fountaindale Public Library,
Bolingbrook, Illinois USA 09/27/2008
By Daniel A. Stafford
Contents:
1. A Consecrated Magical Tool
2. Soft Water Blue
3. Raucous Echo At Eleven
4. Gulf Coast Prayers
5. In Between Skins
6. A Lot Of Candle Light
7. Climbing The Tree
8. If A Raindrop Had Eyes
9. For Want Of An Olive
10. Our Hands
11. I Was Born On A river
A Consecrated Magical Tool…
She’s a high priestess from California,
Working magic amidst the sunbeams,
Playing her harp in mystical fashion,
She’ll raise your hopes and open your consciousness,
A darling voice playing under pagan trees joyfully,
Whispering spells of love and success so gently.
She speaks of her harp by its given name,
Enchanted trance-fingers dance the strings by candle light,
When the moon is silver she’ll croon her highest power,
And take your soul on a distant flight,
Breathless and wondering,
Wood and strings she claims are a consecrated magical tool,
Just as any musician would know and say,
Upon recovering breath from when they play.
I know the feeling in my own space,
Bello glints yellow brass about the place,
I seek the notes where the magic lies,
The one that make my hackles happily rise,
For in music there’s such simple joy,
To uplift the spirit we all play to employ.
You can’t play a song to cast a curse,
Because if you try nasty noise will burst,
Over every ear about the place,
Such blasphemy flies back in your face.
You know you know this – it’s a simple spell,
When you play your favorite songs space and time are a deeper well,
Transported away by the treasures of many,
Instruments are a sacred gift,
Come God or gods entrusted to few,
All consecrated magical tools.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 09/20/2008
Author's Comments
*Note: to find the inspiration for this piece, search “Regan High Priestess” and read the latest blog entry on her site.*
Soft Water Blue...
At the beach house again,
Low and slow waves of relaxation,
Young relatives leaving as we arrive,
Passing each other on the sandy path that leads to and from the beach,
"Beach switch" they call it.
The sky starts off cloudless,
Sunshine ripples on calm waters,
Seventy shades of blue and waves topping at one and a half feet.
Plant a folding chair in the yellow-tan sand,
Take off the last vestiges of the modern world,
Except your suit.
The water is chill at first,
Ice lapping slowly up from feet to waist as you wade in,
At some point near there it's just too much,
You have to dive and get it over.
Swimming long and cool,
The waves and boat wakes push you down the beach,
Splashing against your face every now and then,
Reminder of the Lake's power.
As you stare out where sky meets seemingly endless water,
You remember the school of minnows that dodged your feet as you waded in.
Sea gulls glide overhead and float on the waves,
Their brothers and sisters scamper about the beach.
Sun hats and beach chairs dot the sand for more than a mile in either direction.
There is a thick haze on the Western horizon,
It cocoons you into a world of sand and grass and blue and breeze.
People walk dogs up and down the lapping waves,
A cigarette boat roars colorful across the horizon.
You sit drying in the hot sun,Sand squeezed between your toes,
Absorbing every moment you can steal or beg - just being.
A cheeky sea gull waddles around your chair,Curious but not quite close.
A wall of clouds covers the evening sun,
You pack up and climb sand for a shower.
It's just begun.
AquarianM
© 09/02/2008
By: Daniel A. Stafford
*Notes from last week vacation.
Raucous Echo At Eleven...
It's everywhere,
The maudlin whispers,
That celebration of darkness,
A whisper of ghosts from within a black cloud.
The cries and whimpers haunt me,
As I wonder of answers and illusions,
It's all a matter of trust - lacking.
I saw things my own eyes tell me aren't physically possible,
I see shame and sadness in nooks and crannies across the land,
Wondering who won what and remembering the cost,
All the answers in the universe pale,
No matter their say.
Echoes, echoes, echoes and screams - I remember - even without belief.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 09/11/2008
Author's Comments
9/11/2001, shrouded in controversy and politics, is at its heart a horror story of lost lives and lost freedoms. The people and the ideals are what really mattered, and I, for one, will never forget.
Gulf Coast Prayers...
Reading, hearing seeing, dreading.
The weak among us are running for their lives,
The lives scattered and broken for three years,
Faded for many of us,
Ignored by the seemingly strongest of us.
The monster Gustav comes howling and all you can do is beg.
Beg the sky to be gentle,
Beg the sea to forgive and rock softly,
Beg God to forgive our errors and protect our brothers and sisters.
This is why many never went back home.
This comes before we're even close to cleaning up the last one.
If we could reach out and pull them North we would.
Pray, pray, pray - for mercy.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
08/31/2008 - copyright donated to public domain.
In Between Skins...
The drum beats softly,
Heartbeat across lands and continents,
Frequencies of light invisible,
No colors left.One world - one tribe - one family,
Members bellicose and benign a common thread.
Dance for the world,
Move for life,
Seeing tree leaves and wind and rain,
A web of life interconnected.
Spirit lies between skins,
Breathing the same air and water,
Every soul and piece of creation,
Recycled from endless time.
There is no here and there,
Only everywhere,
Lines in the sand are wind-blown nothingness,
Figment of a moment ephemeral.
Neither the sun nor moon care for sight,
Yet light is given freely,
Stars are had by all,
None is the wiser.
The arts of division equal to a prison,
Something is changing the equation,
Finally we breathe freely,
Regardless of fear or word one world.
Every disillusion must pass - it's clearly time.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 08/22/2008
A Lot Of Candle Light…
It’s August 16th again,
The candles are lit again,
In parade.
The songs we sing are sung again,
For the losses of summer,
Things dear never to be forgotten,
Neither humor nor heartache.
Memphis is glowing tonight.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 08/16/2008
In Memory of Elvis Aaron Presley,
01/08/1935-08/16/1977
Climbing The Tree…
Drumbeats like gumdrops on my mind,
Ripples on the pool I throw my troubles into,
Prayers of guidance and protection wash my mind,
Lush green and cool in the forest where the cave lies,
Deep inside,
The roots permeate All,
Tree of life,
Up or down I climb,
Another world of symbols,
Like wisps of candle light,
August is half-by,I
am opened tonight.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 08/15/2008
If A Raindrop Had Eyes...
Floating in a sea of breezes,
Heated, excited, expanded,
The sky is pulling and I fly from blue to nearly black.
Chilled through I shrink,
Speeding toward a mountain top,
Sparkling like a jewel in a sea of stars.
Resting in windy frozen silence,
Contemplating stars and sunshine,
A crack - and my congregation bullets down-slope.
Warming we slither down in congregation,
Picking up toys to play with,
Rocks and pebbles and sticks and paper and molecules.
We sweep all before us,
Anything lying or thrown in our path,
Pills and dead weeds and the things that killed them.
Muddy we sweep into the sea,
Carrying it all,
And some we even keep when we expand up.
Some day soon you'll drink me - and all that I carry.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 03/28/2008
For Want Of An Olive...
I stalk down memory lane hiding,
Lest a breath blow away my ghosts,
Hearing whispers of happy times,
A place where dreams were infinite.
You cant lose here as long as you dont disturb anything.
The filters that bring me to this place are diverse,
Songs or dishes or old antiques,
Some wisp of yesteryear on the internet,
A picture haunting a magazine page.
I can never get enough, how about you?
I tread with utmost caution,
Trying to glimpse anything I've forgotten,
Put it in my treasure box,
Filled with the ultimate of ultimates memories.
My hunger growls from my gut - unquenchable.
For want of an olive my shadows hear me,
Running off to Heaven on rainbow wings,
Discovery thwarted by distraction,
A lack of hypnosis and focus.
I awaken starving for more sleep.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 02/28/2008
Our Hands...
A hammer is light,
Swinging it flashes,
Nails driven quicksilver,
Houses or crosses,
In our hands.
Fish hooks and old leather,
Falling coconuts adrift,
Dying palms in a rising sea,
A plastic swirl bigger than the USA,
All at our hands.
A garden of summer delights,
Picnic for the hungry,
By the lazy riverside,
Flying cottonwood seed,
Prepared and tended by our hands.
Double edges need no swords.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 03/06/2008
I Was Born On A River…
I was born in the midst of frost and snow,
Ice jagged on the riverbanks,
Stars chilled almost still on a cold night,
Some small town I still see magic in.
The old lagoon used to freeze over,
Ice skaters in the warming house,
Now the paddleboats reign,
A fresh coat of paint on the doors.
The people that imbued that place with magic,
It seems many have fled to someplace higher,
Or flowed down the stream of life,
Salmon run out to sea.
Springtime comes and the fish jump,
Life awakens all about,
Green water and green hills,
Trees budding in the scent of river water.
New dandelions flower,
Tadpoles turn to frogs,
Cottonwood seed floats in the sunlight,
Yet the limestone blocks of the water tower stand.
I was born on a river,
Where the current never stops.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 01/31/2008
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Independence...
Independence...
Sparklers and bangers,
Lightning bugs and picnics,
Swimming hard and warm stars,
Love in the Summer,
Watermelon delight.
It seems so easy,
I always think,
But this dream we live,
It needs eyes that see,
Every day.
Keep your heart in it,
While you see those lights.
Sparklers and bangers,
Lightning bugs and picnics,
Swimming hard and warm stars,
Love in the Summer,
Watermelon delight.
It seems so easy.
AquarianM
(C) 07/03/2008
By: Daniel A. Stafford
Sparklers and bangers,
Lightning bugs and picnics,
Swimming hard and warm stars,
Love in the Summer,
Watermelon delight.
It seems so easy,
I always think,
But this dream we live,
It needs eyes that see,
Every day.
Keep your heart in it,
While you see those lights.
Sparklers and bangers,
Lightning bugs and picnics,
Swimming hard and warm stars,
Love in the Summer,
Watermelon delight.
It seems so easy.
AquarianM
(C) 07/03/2008
By: Daniel A. Stafford
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