Brian Stafford

Brian Stafford Poems

The hordes had gathered,
from far and wide;
With great anticipation,
for what was to behold;

It's the same old picture,
but with different colours;
It's the same old people,
but with different faces;

I saw yellow horses charging,
through fields of purple grass;
Van Gogh alive and painting,
trees with broken glass;

If only I'd walked this way before,
Instead of walking past the door,
What things would I have found,
Would I be walking on new ground,

I slapped the face in the face of adversity,
But I didn’t poke the eye of a storm,
I pulled a tooth from the teeth of a gale,
But I didn’t let the cat out of the bag;

Melodic memories appear,
Uptempo thoughts arise,
Symphonic times of fear,
Instrumental moments surprise,

There is something in the air,
Something all around,
Winds of uncertainty blow,
Are they loaded with virus,

Your on a crazy journey,
but you won't be alone;

It's full of many paths,

Let me take you on a journey,
Without going anywhere,
On a tour of the imagination,
Where travel is in your head,

There's strange wind blowing,
through my head again;
I can't seem to remember,
what or where I am;

There's a murder crows following me.
What did they see, why did they pick me,
Do they see anguish, turmoil and torment,
Or do they see innocence, joy and content,

You've got to pay attention,
keep a track of your mind;

Don't let them be the victors,

I came across a wise man,
words of wisdom he had for me;
Stay clear of flying horses,
and horses in the sea;


As the wind gently blows,
the emerald leaves on the trees;
And the rain will continue to fall,
through the passages of time;

And as the rain clouds came,
it couldn't dampen my flame,
They were calling out my name,
but I won't take the blame,

I had the key to your heart,
so I thought I’d keep it safe;
I kept it my pocket,
for another rainy day;

I'm on the Pharos lighthouse,
as the keeper of the light;
A sight of awe and wonder,
especially at night;

There's a major transposition,
going on in these times;
Even my odd signatures,
are stepping out of time;

An un-elected weasel, is running loose in our ranks;
Giving away our gold, and propping up the banks;
He’s reaped our taxes, and pillaged our pensions;
And he thinks he’s done it, with the best intentions,

Warm hearted friendly faces await,
Grandma waves from the gate,
Mother arranges her flowers,
Father just seems to work long hours,

The Best Poem Of Brian Stafford

The Lost Souls Of Summer

The hordes had gathered,
from far and wide;
With great anticipation,
for what was to behold;
Buoyant from the night,
with moments to treasure;
All filled with excitement,
euphoria and joy;
Most take their magic home,
yet some were about to fall;
Taken in a moment of madness,
confusion and terror;
Memories that were gathered,
now taste bittersweet;
We will always remember,
the lost souls of summer.

Brian Stafford Comments

Prabir Gayen 23 March 2019

Very good poet with sweet voice...God bless you.

1 0 Reply

Brian Stafford Quotes

'We are all children of chance, the victims of circumstance'.

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