“Ah, sleep, clothe me in thy velvet cloak.” SleepDreamsComfortDreamingRest Book:The Vorbing Source: The Vorbing
“Nothing Man by Stewart Stafford I return to plague night's wanderers, Dark hours and thoughts personified, Driven by this scorching crusade, Agitation flooding my skewed brain. Many have tried to kill me and failed, They think material weapons can work, I am immaterial and absorb punishment; An elemental fire they cannot extinguish. No targets are off limits to me, I fear, Aye, I am an equal opportunities predator, Praying for my victims as I prey upon them, Then am I consumed, at one with darkness. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.” PoetryDarknessHorrorPsychologicalExistentialSupernaturalGothicPersonificationDark PoetryAntihero Author:Stewart Stafford
“The Calling by Stewart Stafford Lightning-scorched gravestones, Leave and follow infinity’s call, Spring off the edge of Flat Earth, Know not what lies there and fall. Silence licks and speaks in tongues, Darkness the ferryman leading on, Fingers caress, scraping skin curses, Talisman whispers the way is gone. Hit the bottom and scream out for air, Fill the lungs with each noxious gas, Decide to rest some in poisoned sleep, Nourish yourself in an extended fast. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.” SilenceDarknessAdventureMythologyInfinityUnknownTalismanFlat EarthFerrymanLeap In The Dark Author:Stewart Stafford
“Different Reflections by Stewart Stafford Hatred is a many-horned monstrosity, Not one of them contains any sense, No one would mention what colour a horse is, That’s thrown them through a fence. With our fellow humans, it’s different, Race is the first port of call, When the storm of life is already upon us, The safe harbour should welcome us all. So we continue to obsess over surfaces, When the depth lies just beneath, If we could only see different reflections as our own, Victory over intolerance would be complete. © Stewart Stafford, 2021. All rights reserved.” PoetryHateRacePoemRacismHatredPoemsIntolerancePoems On LifeRacial Harmony Author:Stewart Stafford
“Never think that hatred and prejudice are the exclusive problems of any particular group in society or the world. When we become inured to hate's virulence, it has time to thrive, spread and reach everyone eventually. So take no comfort from the fact that others are suffering today and not you. The mirror of empathy makes us witnesses our own future torment.” HateEmpathyHatredPrejudiceHatersHaters QuotesEmpathy For OthersEmpathy QuotesHater QuotesStanding Up For Others Author:Stewart Stafford
“Never think that hatred and prejudice are the exclusive problems of any particular group in society or the world. When we become inured to hate's virulence, it has time to thrive, spread and reach everyone eventually. So take no comfort from the fact that others are suffering today and not you. The mirror of empathy makes us witnesses to our own future torment.” HateEmpathyHatersHaters QuotesEmpathy For OthersHatred QuotesEmpathy QuotesHaters Gonna HateHaters QuoteStanding Up For Others Author:Stewart Stafford
“Violence is a self-perpetuating rabbit hole that exaggerates problems and rarely solves them. It is a reaction to a situation and not a thought process. You and your supposed enemy may wash in each other's blood, but once the bloodlust passes, all that remains is a determination to prevent the next generation from inheriting the sins of their fathers. Then the search for peace finally begins.” WarPeaceViolenceTerrorismEnemiesRadicalizationPeace TalksBloodlustSins Of The FathersPeace Process Author:Stewart Stafford
“The Lottery by Stewart Stafford It was New York, 1984, The AIDS tsunami roared in, Friends, old overnight, no more, Breathless, I went for a check-up. A freezing winter's dawn, A solitary figure before me, What we called a drag queen, White heels trembled in the cold. "Hi, are you here to get tested?" Gum chewed, brown eyes stared. This was not my type of person, I turned heel and walked away. At month's end, a crippling flu, The grey testing centre called, Two hundred people ahead of me; A waking nightmare all too real. I gave up and turned to leave, But a familiar voice called out: "Hey, you there, come back!" I stopped and turned around. The drag queen stood there in furs, But sicker, I didn't recognise them, "Stand with me in the line, honey." "Nah, I'm fine, I'll come back again." "Support an old broad before she faints?" A voice no longer frail but pin-sharp. I got in line to impatient murmurs: "If anyone has a problem, see me!" Sylvester on boombox, graveyard choir. My pal's stage name was Carol DaRaunch, (After the Ted Bundy female survivor) Their real name was Ernesto Rodriguez. After seeing the doctor, Carol hugged me, Writing down their number on some paper, With their alias not their real name on it: "Is this the number of where you work?" "THAT is my home number to call me on. THAT'S my autograph, for when I'm famous!" "I was wrong about you, Carol," I said. "Baby, it takes time to get to know me!" A hug, shimmy, the threadbare blonde left. A silent chorus of shuffling dead men walking, Spartan results, a young man's death sentence. Real words faded rehearsal, my eyes watered. Two weeks on, I cautiously phoned up Carol. The receiver was picked up, dragging sounds, Like furniture being moved: "Is Carol there?" "That person is dead." They hung up on me. All my life's harsh judgements, dumped on Carol, Who was I to win life's lottery over a guardian angel? I still keep that old phone number forty years on, Crumpled, faded, portable guilt lives on in my wallet. © Stewart Stafford, 2024. All rights reserved.” FearFriendshipGriefEmpathyMemoryAidsLgbtq80sStigmaAids Epidemic Author:Stewart Stafford
“Anne's Will by Stewart Stafford Young Shakespeare set off to London town, To quill and ink his masterpiece plays, Still, Anne Hathaway grew anxious; Marriage and family rent twain ways. He vowed to send back funds to them, With a fledgling kiss, Will was gone, Tearful goodbyes of wife and daughters, Stratford shrank, cartwheels spun. The distance honeyed homesickness, The farther from hearth Will roamed, The capital's theatres awaited him; Words etched in stone in folio tome. The absentee bard kept his word true; Admirably providing for kin well, Through a bitter, lonely aftertaste, With only one truism to tell: "For, aye, where'er there was a Will, Truly, good Anne always hath a way." © Stewart Stafford, 2024. All rights reserved.” FamilyMarriageSacrificeAmbitionPerseveranceHistorical FictionSonnetShakespeareBittersweetHomesickness Author:Stewart Stafford
“Breaking Everest by Stewart Stafford On this Everest of déjà vu, We broke up in avalanches, Rote tumbling and tedium, Dead stares at the bottom. Climbers phoning in motion, A poke for the All-Seeing Eye, Pack mules heaving baggage, Tense on the musical ski lifts. Even with three tiny travellers, That peak hosted no summits, Cast-off hairshirt strait-jackets, The wound-licking began afresh. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.” RelationshipsMarriageDivorceBreakupClimbingBreaking UpMountaineeringMountain ClimbingEverestMount Everest Author:Stewart Stafford
“Gleefully pointing out the mistakes of previous generations while not daring to make any of your own is boorish heckling from the sidelines, not living.” ActivismHypocrisyActivistSidelinesHecklingActivism QuotesPulling Others DownSnowflake GenerationSpectator Of One S Own LifeProtests Of 2020 Author:Stewart Stafford