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“The Taranis Cèilidh by Stewart Stafford Lightning's jagged spear, Burning the horizon bright, Silhouetting empty tables, No picnics by the waterside. Waves sloshed against jetties, A displaced bath on all sides, Flailing tree chorus genuflected, To the foaming vat beside them. The roar of the gale rose and fell, Tempest's tongue agitated potently, Leaves surrendered in droves to it, Sleep deepened in the storm's fury. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”

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Stewart Stafford

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“The sky belched. The thunder of one more belch cracked the dark morning and the air became clogged with the twisting speed of the rain that beat the streets in a unified tempo of a thousand small drums. Skinny walked slowly, slowly in the gutter. All of him, all of his possessions stuck out. One more clap of thunder stuttered insanely and Skinny scoffed at the scattering people and the mad hunt for shelter. Some huddled in doorways and some huddled under awnings and some made reluctant purchases for the franchise of being legitimate fugitives from the prison of the rain. Skinny and his big wet head was a flawless model for a tragic cartoon as the people fled from the streets and he just wandered in the gutter where the rain spilled over him and sucked his body.”

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Book:Lonely Boy Blues
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“Instead, he described the way the sun set in the valley of Apan: first rich golden, deepening to amber, and then, with a swift, sure strike, night overtook the sun like the extinguishing of a candle. The darkness in the valley was so deep it was almost blue, and when thunderstorms slinked over steep hills into the valley, lightning spilled like mercury across fields of maguey, silvering the plants' sharp tips like the peaked helmets of conquistadors.”

NatureThunderstormsLight Sunset
Book:The Hacienda
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“Upon A Stormy Night by Stewart Stafford Lay that downy head beneath a roof, Lest the lightning sear those temples, As the lamb hears the hewing blade, We sense when the last hour arrives. Testing thunder of the scolding deities, A gallows silence rings in every dimple. Rain, sobbing, weeping for humankind, with no potent hand to dry damp eyes. The upturned night's rage passes on, Sprightly dawn cracks a guardian eye, Cowed people check the gashed skies, Grins, not marked by a storm's blemish. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”

StormStormsThunderstormWrath Of GodThunder And LightningThunderstormsStormy WeatherThunderboltAct Of GodStormy Night
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“I have a right to be uneven right now. It's my father's sickness, it's David's disinterest, it's that I'm twenty-four and I still haven't really figured out if I want to live or not. It's my tendency to choose the wrong times to talk. It's that with David, it's never a good time to talk. It's that I love this bastard so much I am becoming everyone I ever hated just to be nearer to him. It's that he doesn't want me near him anymore. It's your fault, David. I am a mess because you won't let me clean us up. You would rather remain on the floor, spilled, tracked over, something that would have made a nice conversation piece, a thing of beauty, if someone had allowed it to. You would rather be broken glass in my feet than the looking glass I peer into every day.”

Love Is The DrugPage 12 13
Author:Sarabeth Purcell
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“I have a right to be uneven right now. It's my father's sickness, it's David's disinterest, it's that I'm twenty-four and I still haven't really figured out if I want to live or not. It's my tendency to choose the wrong times to talk. It's that with David, it's never a good time to talk. It's that I love this bastard so much I am becoming everyone I ever hated just to be nearer to him. It's that he doesn't want me near him anymore. It's that I just want this one thing to be okay. It's that it never will. It's your fault, David. I am a mess because you won't let me clean us up. You would rather remain on the floor, spilled, tracked over, something that would have made a nice conversation piece, a thing of beauty, if someone had allowed it to. You would rather be broken glass in my feet than the looking glass I peer into every day.”

Love Is The DrugSarabeth PurcellPage 12 13
Author:Sarabeth Purcell
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