“The Coffeehouse Troubadour by Stewart Stafford I am The Coffeehouse Troubadour; Catchpenny conduit of all your pain, Nanosecond glance, a collective boil lanced, And my mirror refracts again. You mix my words in bitterest cups, Laced to an addictive latte brew, Read the room as we slowly dance And see, it's not about me, it's about you. Did you catch the trick I pulled there? Would you like me to show you once more? Or put on your coat in silent meditation? A rainy baptism as you walk through the door? © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.” PoetryEmotionalSpoken WordFolk MusicReflectivePerformance ArtBob DylanCoffeehouseModern VerseCafe Culture Author:Stewart Stafford
“Pet Haunts by Stewart Stafford Ghosts pinned my cat to the wall, So I reached out to pick him up, In the strangest flip to our world, They then turned him into a pup! Spectres floated my pet downstairs, Confused as he hovered on a step, Species-fluid doppelgänger mirage, Without moans or chains to schlepp. Dare we dig into this canine tale, Let me lick myself clean and think, Corporeal companions, some not, We all link up as one past the brink. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.” PoetryGhostsDogsCatsDark HumorCats HumorSurreal PoetryDogs HumourCats Vs DogsTransition Spirituality Author:Stewart Stafford
“Ilf Time Never Flew by Stewart Stafford If a horologist froze time at dusk, And there was no day or night, Or days, months, and years, What then for Earth’s masters? Winged time stilled in a bell jar, A castaway preserved in aspic, Or stickily-entombed in amber, Statuesque life an infinite daymare. Boredom creeping up slowly, A lockdown without progress, The horologist would thaw time, Freeing reality’s ebb and flow. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.” PoetryTimeTime FliesLockdownFrozen In TimeLockdown LifeDaymareWings Of TimeHorologist Author:Stewart Stafford
“If Time Never Flew by Stewart Stafford If a horologist froze time at dusk, And there was no day or night, Or days, months, and years, What then for Earth’s masters? Winged time stilled in a bell jar, A castaway preserved in aspic, Or stickily-entombed in amber, Statuesque life an infinite daymare. Boredom creeping up slowly, A lockdown without progress, The horologist would thaw time, Freeing reality’s ebb and flow. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.” PoetryTimeTime FliesLockdownChronologyFrozen In TimeLockdown LifeDaymareWings Of TimeHorologist Author:Stewart Stafford
“Knowhere by Stewart Stafford Poleaxed by vampiric tapping— rattling timeline of a loop lapping— Hypochondriac paranoid toothache, tasting everything I see and break. Showed my tongue to an undertaker; licked his face — proved I’m no faker. A measured, grim diagnosis followed, matter from a cardiac pump hollowed. Draped loosely in a tea towel shroud, resurrected—naked, loud, and proud— Rocket to the pub for a post-wake baptism, a ploughman’s lunch with relish schism. © 2026, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.” PoetryExistentialismSatireDark HumorSurrealismContemporary PoetryAbsurdismGothic PoetryHorror PoetryBritish Humor Author:Stewart Stafford
“The Risk Assessor's Audit by Stewart Stafford An actuary at the butcher’s table, Serpentine watch-chain, strung as a noose, Each second, costed with surgical élan, Logging the theft in Babel columns loose. The paper catacomb lies crumpled, Its tenant, a doorway hobo in arrears, The knowing leaseholder's smile worn, Who'd changed the locks on all the years. The mutilated currency of memories, Clipped coinage set for melted dooms, Dried blood trickles in the hourglass, Turnkey guardian of vast, derelict rooms. © 2026, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.” DeathPoetryPhilosophicalExistentialismMetaphysicalContemporary PoetryDark PoetryGothic PoetryHorror PoetrySurreal Poetry Author:Stewart Stafford
“Richard Burton by Stewart Stafford Jester’s coxcomb to a fool’s translator? A brothel-creeper in a neon-puked alley, A bean-counter totalling rice grains; Surreptitious, scrumptious attic grub. Stand back, witness me Manspread! Lease me your lobes while I Mansplain! Overcome, I expire in an orchestra pit From the fumes of acute "Toxic Masculinity." Hear my epitaph: "Women aren't funny... so put on the Earl Grey, love!" Coup de grâce! Many have said where I should stick my opinion, But I leave the worst to the collective imagination. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.” PoetryIronySatireSexismPersonaDark HumorSocial CommentaryToxic MasculinityMansplainingManspreading Author:Stewart Stafford
“O, gentle Bard, if thou couldst but glimpse our digital age! We set words in light called ‘blogs,’ Which are, alas, neither fens nor afflictions. They are thoughts taken wing for the world to see, Much like thou didst with plays posthumously, Held eternally aloft in iambic pentameter.” PoetrySatireLiterary FictionBlogsDigital AgeWordplayContemporary LiteratureShakespeareanModern ClassicIambic Pentameter Author:Stewart Stafford
“Almost Myself On a twilight road, I met a young man with my face. A denizen of some distant dust devil in drifter denim. We stood and eyed each other, then, with a look of mutual disdain, we parted. Our backward glances were not narcissistic flirtation, but self-conscious reflection and surrender to the formality of the familiar. Against a backdrop of veined lightning and coyote song, I was alone again.” PoetryPoemDesertTwilightPoems On LifeHitchhikingSupernatural MysteryTwin SoulDrifterDoppelgänger Author:Stewart Stafford
“Submerged Suburbia by Stewart Stafford Fell out of bed, dragging my soul, Looked out the old goldfish bowl, To see suburbia was underwater, And I was engaged to Neptune’s daughter. There were buses like whales, Driven by aquatic snails, And jellyfish squatters, Chased by octopus coppers. Crab and lobster schoolkids, Scurried by making online bids, As a serial killer shark, Prowled for surfers before dark. Someone let the water out, And it all went down the spout, Flopping fish still tarried, But I got out of getting married. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.” PoetryFloodSurrealSuburbsUnderwaterSuburbiaSurreal PoetryFloodsAquatic LifeUnder The Sea Author:Stewart Stafford
“The Cryptic Sea by Stewart Stafford Walk free through Jailer's Gate, Sail to where corporeal forms fade, No longer seen as a common cutpurse, Now in a navigational cut-and-thrust. Note how the ocean heaves and boils, Swirling into towering vortex coils, With hideous creatures at every base, Bearing the haunting Kraken's face. Great ghost ships groan from the mist, And balls of light form fast betwixt, The horizon and the sea spray foam, Save us all and set sail for home. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.” PoetrySeaOceanParanormalHauntedVoyagePirates Of The CaribbeanBermuda TriangleMaritime StoriesGhost Ship Author:Stewart Stafford
“The Revenant by Stewart Stafford The golden ball in the sky adopts an adios hue, And kisses the world a fond adieu, The predators that thrive in its absence appear, Their shadows and eyeshine our darkest fears. The Revenant stirs from subterranean limbo, With bloodied fangs and glowing eyes akimbo, To survive and stagger the bloodlust way, Until fasting begins at break of day. Hear the tap at your window, The solitary song, Embrace the contagion, No matter how wrong. Feel the frigid skin, The piercing bite, And live in their troth, At one with night. Then recline in their grave, In eternal embrace, And rise at sundown, A gothic Queen of Disgrace. © Stewart Stafford, 2021. All rights reserved.” PoetryPoemHorrorVampireVampiresGothicPoems Of Blood And PassionHalloween PoemHalloween PoemsRevenant Author:Stewart Stafford
“Numbers leave me cold. Words can make you laugh, cry, fall in love, see life and the world in new ways, make you feel nostalgic, give you hope for the future and a zillion other things. Give me poetry every time.” PoetryLanguageNumbersPoetMathematicsWordsMathPoemsMathsNumbers And Words Author:Stewart Stafford
“Son of Jaws: Final Flush by Stewart Stafford The toilet monster is dead, He’d been looking flushed, A plunger sucked its face off, I don’t miss it, I’m not pushed. The innocent never had a clue, Sat on the porcelain throne seat, They'd kissed their backsides goodbye, Derrières on rows of razor teeth. A call of nature, but none returned, After closing the bathroom locks, Shoes and knickers found later, Twisted around frantic socks. The awful beast left the building, No critiques of the notorious dead, But words can't describe the relief, When I sit down now to use the head. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.” PoetryParentingDark HumorParodyJawsChildhood FearsToilet HumorHorror ComedyPotty TrainingDomestic Horror Author:Stewart Stafford
“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
“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