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Quote by Stewart Stafford

“The Poe Toaster by Stewart Stafford They call me The Poe Toaster, A sixty-year mourner, no boaster, With roses and cognac, I paid homage, To gothic Quarles’ eternal foggage. Some call me ghoul, stalker, graver, Obsessed fan, tombstone trader, Let him sleep unbroken, still his ghost, Tomahawk, overdue a tribute toast. Three roses; in-law, Eddy and wife, Cognac, exorbitant luxury in life, Relax, for I was kind, my friend, Pouring amontillado until the end. Why I stopped, if I'm woman or man, Are mysteries for C. Auguste Dupin, Shipwrecked on Night’s Plutonian shore, Allied with the silken darkness of yore. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”

Quote by Stewart Stafford

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Stewart Stafford

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“Dead Rite by Stewart Stafford While he lives, hope still clings, The hereafter remains a mystery, If life is but struggle and toil, Then death is hushed serenity. Things he treasured when alive, Trinkets to divide up as booty, The body still lying in repose, Nothing but a fading memory. Lay him down in a mossy grave, Heads bowed in a muttered eulogy, Then back away with platitudes, To the nearest exit from the cemetery. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”

“The Feminine Enigma by Stewart Stafford Even lying in repose in her casket, Her aura still a billowing haze, A coffin lid no barrier to new facts, She came back on her funeral day. Creeping sentinels of perspective, Building up new memory mosaics, A spider's web of word and deed, Descending Prozac of the prosaic. The labyrinthine riddle is female, Females are perennially arcane, Puzzles that don't beg solutions, Evening stars of the astral plane. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”