Poetry

Let us not cling

Let us not cling

"The happiness of a tree that clings to its roots” wrote Nietzsche in 1873A hundred years before I was bornWhen the roots I would cling to were being formed. Let us not cling to the past that our foremothers wrought with iron and wood as they cut down the trees to build cabins that became a neighborhood. Let us not cling, but…

2304 1728 Stafford Wood
Expectations

Expectations

"Expect to win" is the motto of the Naval Academy. They've lost 42-8 to St. John's College in the Annapolis Cup.

1188 731 Stafford Wood
Poets

Poets

Poets are thinkersMaking an argument For the story they see,Or the world as it should be. Angry, an optimistDisappointed, believerDescribing her hopes, scenesAnd all of her dreams.

1920 2560 Stafford Wood
tempo

tempo

And sotempois onceagainmy FLAW Because I can't go slow and wait. And wait. Waiting for you to pace along And catch up.   It bores me.  

2304 1728 Stafford Wood

Anger

"Anger is evidence of irrational optimism." - Stafford

150 150 Stafford Wood

The part

I don't have to play the part. I am the part.

150 150 Stafford Wood

But honey …

But honey I live in another state

150 150 Stafford Wood
Gene is dead

Gene is dead

An old couple and their dog were found dead today at their house just up the mountain from me. Whether suicide or CO2, they died together.  My mother called me concerned about the dog, poor dog, she said. I said lucky dog,  you wouldn’t want to wake up with both your owners dead. She said…

2560 1920 Stafford Wood

A brush with love

Instant love is attraction like a magnet Drawing you to your beloved in a momentWith the flicker of a smileAnd the scent of the agesPulling you in at first meeting. But, real love seeps into your lifeSlowlyDripping just a drop at a time.Never drinking from a fire hose.Always leaving you thirsty for more.

150 150 Stafford Wood
The Scent of Honor

The Scent of Honor

You like to be cleanBut you get dirty without apologyOr resentmentYou smell when you’ve been workingOf sweat and grease and trashAnd sticky icky gooAnd juice combined with brothNot in a recipe but on your skin aloneA smell that’s nowhere elseBut on youAnd on me when you touch meThe way I smell as you walk to…

643 360 Stafford Wood
Start Typing