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“The Liquid Pantomime by Stewart Stafford Time is life’s shareholder: Youth’s dark angel investor, Midlife’s white shark creditor, The old's Arctic blood liquidator. Debt, the fledgling's terra incognita, Misfortune's looking glass kvetch, Chicks for the boardroom wolf pit, Waddling forth in immature escrow. Margin call missives arrive at thirty, Backstick pressures piping up, Distressingly hostile AGM invites, Disbelief morphs into resignation. Cracking knees bear bankruptcy, Written off in a balance sheet's glance, No hibernation in a bear market, Phased out for new stock issues daily. © 2026, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

“Seasons Fore by Stewart Stafford Winter elbows its way to prominence, Placid Spring gradually lays on the land, To presage Summer’s teeming exuberance, Before Autumn messily rents all asunder. Niveous shroud, promising blossom, Roaring greenery and russet capitulation, Four seasons and their intricate combinations, Alighting passengers in another year of life. Nature’s window dressing encircles, Time’s passing at the grandfather clock, As heartbeats throb and ebb eternally, The closing of an eyelid, our pacemaker. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”

“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.”

“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.”

“Fortunately, time-travel does not exist. With it, the human race would try to solve past mistakes in isolation, erase any knowledge gleaned from making them, and create a chain reaction of unforeseen consequences. These could destroy the past, along with the present and future simultaneously. Time itself could become the ultimate weapon of mass destruction.”

“December is... by Stewart Stafford December is all that we give, And whatever we receive, It is those who surround us, And those who have taken leave. December is celebrating light, Where only darkness dwells, It is the ripping of wrapping paper, And tempting culinary smells. December is letting go, Of all the past year's fails, And starting anew in January, As time again chases its tail. © Stewart Stafford, 2021. All rights reserved.”

“Stafford’s Law of Irreversible Entropy states: A system that achieved a perfect champagne alignment in its own era cannot be shoehorned back in once the environment has evolved or degenerated beyond it. This is the Staffordian Duality; it is immaterial whether global prospects improved or deteriorated; it only matters that the metric mirror of the past no longer reflects the current modern sinkhole. The most overcrowded vessel is the one that sails on the golden sea of memories.”

“In Absentia by Stewart Stafford Marbled mirror's stubbled face, Hollow grimace back at me, Each line a verdict crease, From a rigged jury decree. Denial's chant, the siren's call, Dared me to climb meeker backs, Those perps and their victims, The fading dust upon the tracks. Deep scars from a traitor's blade, Like from some coroner's skit, Staggering down memory lane, Déjà vu choking on a peach pit. Then karma's trapdoor gives, The past is not a partner sparred, Hubris's caw now a trembling chick, Wet rope creaks in hangman's yard. © 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

“A Magic Hour’s Dreaming by Stewart Stafford Is there a sight more fair than wheaten fields, Awaiting the sun's ambush to potently ignite? Colour vibrates beyond the eye revealed, To live, dance and breathe in honeyed light. Nature’s palette, painted hues so bright, Invites the bees to sip and man to dream, Of engineered art, dazzling to the sight, Authored lightning in a celestial seam. The creator’s canvas, mint beyond decay, Invites the inner child to replenish at source, Where Nature’s staff casts shadows away, Friendships bond as a trickling stream's course. An eyeblink flash carved in history's tree, Treasured riches pooled of those by our side. For in sepia’s sunflower memory, We court the hand of an agreeable bride. Fading birdsong underscores this bottled time, In butterfly hearts, the hourglass stilled sublime. Autumn's leaves, ochre embers, curtsied fall, Farewell Summer, until roused in New Year's call. © 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

“Same Old, Game Old by Stewart Stafford On the first day of the new year, Chronos's roulette wheel rolls, Seeing the thermometer do 60, Scraping shadows off the fridge. Teddy bear plays hide-and-seek, With a giant, grey beast that barks, And an elephant with a rainbow gut, But some things should go AWOL Dinner plate talismans bring cheer, Windfall greens and Jupiter peas, Coins tossed in an oracle's grotto, Marching into the fog of life ahead. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”

“The Reaping by Stewart Stafford Paint a nostalgic landscape today, A harvest gifted once in this way, Stranger's yields come to pass, Only that season's memory lasts. A fallow field to revisit in time, Golden reaping of a private mind, As gleaners, newcomers gather, Reminiscence thickens to slather. As the body grows old like the land, With crop circles on backs of hands, In solstice, your seed does replenish, Past where scars of life can blemish. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”

“The Ticking Spiral by Stewart Stafford Man - the only creature that knows it dies, Creates structures to measure its demise. To poke and prod with hows and whys; Hours, seconds, melted candles of surprise. From booming birth; to bankrupt death, From nascent looks; to the last breath, The torch is passed to generations yet. To carry forth in a cycle reset. The ticking clock of heartbeats ends, As we say goodbye to family and friends, To return to wherever we first transcend, Time's ever-flowing river never bends. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”

“Time's Magpies by Stewart Stafford Time’s magpies swoop to taunt and rob, And pluck out hair and gums carefree. Opportunity and energy drained by mob, As we duel pitiless reality. The cat’s jowls swelled in uproar, His gut sags and snarls with pain. Feathery barbs of a matador, Feline fleeing to copse again. A younger cat enters the fight, Ousting the aged tom. Crown prince routs thieving flight, A proud lion of dawn's sun. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”