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Quote by Stewart Stafford

“The Physician's Pageant by Stewart Stafford Can aught endure the masquerade Of this world's blindfolded night? Melancholy's strike doth calm the raving, As babes roused from stillbirth in fledgling light. We know that the womb doth wander, Around the body, causing ills without care, A pessary's charm doth anchor it in place again, As bait doth lure the quarry to the snare. Burn sulfur, rosemary, lavender and juniper, Or foul dung smoke to cleanse tainted rural air. Light aromatic torches in the playhouse and market, Let vile odours and miasmas in these spaces beware. Though ragged contagion and death still doth assail, God willing, some blessed souls still shalt prevail. © 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

Quote by Stewart Stafford

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Stewart Stafford

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“Stuck In One's Craw by Stewart Stafford Nobody's beeswax,' still, you nosily ask: 'Is it the last supper to eat that fast?' Try blackened potato skin's bitter taste, A heritage of hunger's grim, gaunt waste. From Celtic mist, this heir apparent, My grandparent's grandparent(s), Survived Ireland's holocaust famine, As a local catch, not New World salmon. Crop blight drove their starving plea, With lots cast bleak to die or flee Genetic appetite fed the strongest, Those who eat fastest live longest. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

Social JusticeTraumaDark HumorCultural IdentityElegyIrish HistoryIrish LiteraturePotato FamineHistorical PoetryIrish Famine
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“Leave now!” I commanded, my voice laced with anger. He stood slowly and approached me again, invading my space. “Careful now, dummy. Next time, you might find yourself begging me to stay,” he whispered, leaning in close to my right ear. I could hear a heartbeat—was it his or mine?”

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Book:Before the Light: Luna's Journey
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“Literalmente nos habían despojado de todo cuanto llevábamos excepto de los trapos con que nos cubríamos el cuerpo. Los pequeños regalos recibidos, que me hubiera llevado a los Estados Unidos y legado a mis nietos, habían sido destruidos. Tenía ante mi una elección: reaccionar con lamentaciones o con resignación. ¿Era un intercambio justo, mis únicas posesiones materiales a cambio de una lección inmediata sobre el desapego? Me dijeron que probablemente me hubieran permitido conservar los recuerdos barridos por el agua pero que, por la energía de la Divina Unidad, al parecer seguía otorgándoles demasiada importancia. ¿Había aprendido por fin a valorar la experiencia y no el objeto?”

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