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buckman
Firefly

USA
2705 Posts

Posted - 10/09/2011 :  19:40:22  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I pushed the horse out past the town, out to where I had buried her...I didn't come out here too often, but today I needed to talk to her, to tell her what I had done... Any success you have in this life is only satisfied when you share it with someone you care about.... Today I had made them run; made them afraid to ever come back... They will see the look in my eyes for the rest of their lives and they will remember it... They will see the difference between what they worship and what I worship and see why I will always be stronger... And I had come to say goodbye; good bye to her and to the life we had known together, and to this piece of land where I had put her body....


The snow is falling around me now, and the sound of the woods has changed as I ride... Riding away from her.... Riding away from them.... I am a slave to the tobacco in my pouch and the whiskey in my bags, but I will be a slave to no man or woman ever again.... The choices have been made for me this time, but I have learned how to make them work in my favor... Today I can ride with no guilt, I can ride with no pain; the lands that I see in the skies over the next mountain are the lands where I will spend my next days... My horse breathes the cold air and carries me onward... Ever onward we shall ride...


I look around at the thick trees and the little creek and realize that I have been riding in circles... I take the saddlebag with the whiskey and throw it into the creek... I keep the tobacco... If you are to ride away from something, Preacher, you must ride Away from it, not encircle it with your feeble pace.... Throw off your baggage and ride with the wind; God knows, there is no reason not to... There is so much more behind you than you are apt to meet up ahead that there is nothing or no one to fear anymore... Your strength and resolve, what little you have left, is not of your making, it has come from somewhere else, but it carries with it a price, a responsibility that you have ignored for too long now...


It is snowing again, as I get down off the horse.... I listen to the music coming from the creek and feel the old fever starting to rise... I throw off the hat and heavy coat and begin to sing and dance around the trees... As I spin around and around, I see the faces from my past coming out of the moonlight........ And they are smiling..... All is as it should be....


I have come to the river to pray.... It should have been raining.... I felt the sun on my face as I left the woods, and the horse and I rode over the crest of the hill and saw the river again for the first time.... My River... Our River.... Where it had all started.... Being here now without her would be like all the years I spent before her, seeking my peace and comfort in the river, except that now I would be missing a piece of my soul.... The inland town that we had gone to was behind me now; the gamblers, the ramblers..... the dead.... I would seek to find my faith again, here where I had found it in the first place, here where I was raised half a century ago before the world had turned upside down.... I have come to the river to make my confession, to seek my salvation, to see if there is any future here for one such as I, left without a heart, but still full of seeking, still full of purpose, still full of the belief that I am powerless without the help of a power outside and above myself....


It turns colder as the sun descends behind Hook Mountain and leaves me in the darkness... once again... It seems that the darkness has become my friend just like the rain... For one that has not lived the life that he was expected to, has not fulfilled the promise that was foreseen for him, has not lived in the light as he had vowed..... The faith has never left..... The belief in the power of the Blood has been there from the start and is there now, to this day.... The Father, the Son, the Man I am....

I have come to the river to pray....
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BarbraG
Windchimer

1824 Posts

Posted - 10/10/2011 :  20:24:33  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Hank,
You sometimes leave me speechless !!! Hope you are well.

BarbraG
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2705 Posts

Posted - 10/13/2011 :  18:00:35  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Thnx BG


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buckman
Firefly

USA
2705 Posts

Posted - 10/13/2011 :  19:31:26  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I hear the whispers everywhere
Some I almost recognize
Her red hair on her shoulders
Her fingers on my thighs.

[Baby don't want to leave me
I'm living enough for two,
The whiskey helps the pills go down
What's a proud man gonna do?]

It's only when they're talking
That my mind seems to work at all,
She brought the glory to October
In the Hudson Valley fall.

[We drove across those amber plains
Nuthin but loving on our minds,
The music helped the pain go down
We followed the white lines.]

She loved to talk to Mickey
They'd cough and wheeze all night
There were nights when we were almost sane
There were days the sun was bright.

[Baby don't want to leave me
I'm living enough for two,
The whiskey helps the pills go down
What's a proud man gonna do?]

Every night about this time
The whispers seem to stop
She left a nightgown on my door
The other shoe shouldn't drop.

[We drove across those amber plains
Nuthin but loving on our minds,
The music helped the pain go down
We were two times two of a kind.]

I hear the whispers everywhere
Some I almost recognize
Her red hair on her shoulders
Her fingers on my thighs.
Ghosts of memories don't linger
I chant that every night
Waiting for a day when I'm almost sane
And a night when the stars are bright.

Ghosts of memories don't linger
I chant that every night
Waiting for a day when I'm almost sane
And a night when the stars are bright.







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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5432 Posts

Posted - 10/14/2011 :  02:09:46  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
FOLLOWING THE RIVER

I'm still following the river
I know you know the one
Its water keeps our wishes
Gathers color from the sun
It senses where it's going
Has a gift to give the sea
I'm following that river
If you come to look for me

Were you meant to be my lover
Only time will tell
I taste you in the water
I hear you like a bell
That rings back into silence
In a temple I can't find
I chant away the ages
Invite beginner's mind

I move closer to those wishes
To release and to renew
It's the least of all your worries
And the best that I can do
To listen to what teaches
To rise up when I fall
To be naked in the water
When I miss you most of all

Were you meant to be beside me
Out beyond the yes and no
I take a breath inside me
Hold it still and let it go
And I listen as the silence
Gives way to the bell again
I almost lose my balance
I barely have a skin

I'm still here beside the river
I know you know the one
Its water keeps our wishes
Gathers color from the sun
It senses where it's going
Has a gift to give the sea
I'll be following the river
When you come to look for me

DL
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rodeo
Swinger

USA
733 Posts

Posted - 10/14/2011 :  07:38:27  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
On Sunday mornings, I ride out to the river...
...past the spot where my old man taught me to shoot…seems like centuries ago...and yesterday.
...past the little church with families going in the door...like mine did...parents dragging the kids up the steps...like mine did.

...the young boys stare. They know who I am.
They dream of being me. If only they knew.

They’re going where they need to be going.
Me…I’m going…
...to the river.

I read my Bible every day. I believe God has a plan for us all. But, still…I guess if Jesus Christ Himself came down from heaven to tell me what to do…
...I likely wouldn’t do it.

Actually…He did…
...and I didn’t.
[/quote]

"On Sunday mornings, I ride out to the river..."

Apparently, I'm not the only one.
Who are these people?
Throwing things in the water...prayin'...lookin' at the sky...
...lookin' downstream...lookin' upstream...watchin' the water flow past...
...this many metaphors make me mad.
"Let the waters wash over me...wash over me".
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aussiedave
Swinger

Australia
506 Posts

Posted - 10/15/2011 :  01:48:07  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send aussiedave a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Catch-44

on a carousel,
a carousel-jacques brel,
on a carousel

he was simple
man
oh such a simple
man,
a man of honour,
all of his life

on a carousel,
a carousel-jacques brel,
on a carousel

all of his life
people had told him
in one way
or another,
that he knew not
what he knew,
that he did not know
of what he was talking about

...and they were correct,

on a carousel,
a carousel-jacques brel,
round and around
on a carousel

their words made him feel
inadequate
depressed
alone,
prone to isolation...

then they told him,
that he had no right
to feel that way

on a carousel,
a carousel-jacques brel,
on a carousel

round and around
faster and faster,
round and around

...going nowhere.

dR Oct 2011
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rodeo
Swinger

USA
733 Posts

Posted - 10/15/2011 :  10:52:43  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"a wheel within a wheel".
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2705 Posts

Posted - 10/15/2011 :  15:10:37  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
You dear folks are jewels. A treasure resides in this room
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1844 Posts

Posted - 10/15/2011 :  18:21:09  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The spread-open fan of memory. A walk along the Embarcadero.
The carousel and fortune teller's high-sided wagon. The jet-scarred
sky filled with shore birds cries. "...tell ourselves stories to
make sense of our lives..." he said. His story.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2705 Posts

Posted - 10/27/2011 :  19:53:47  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Martina asked me to tell her
how the rest of my life went
after her.

I told her that I was mostly high and dry
for a time, but that I got along on my own
after awhile.
I told her that I remembered that she
gave me the rest of her life and
that all she ever asked from me was
all I had left, but all I had left was tears
and that she deserved better at the end.

She said,
I see you've managed to stash away a
few tears for a rainy day.
Good, keep them close, but, please,
Keep dancing....
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Joe Z
Windchimer

USA
1810 Posts

Posted - 10/29/2011 :  15:01:31  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
There's something sad about seeing trees lose their leaves, especially as we grow older.

Edited by - Joe Z on 10/29/2011 15:40:23
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1844 Posts

Posted - 10/29/2011 :  18:55:05  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He watches her hands move against the clay. The vessels she
makes enchant him. Their fullness and fluted edge. Under
crow-tangled branches she fires the piece in a tree hollowed
out by lightning. He brushes cinders away from her cut glass
cheekbones. Her smile is brazen. Her dress is candy-apple red.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1844 Posts

Posted - 10/29/2011 :  18:58:44  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
She said, I have no plot but to keep him alive.
Her heart-shaped shovel and starry tears. Her
ruby-stung ears and bell-tied shoes waterlogged.
The night with its black velvet ribbon undone.
Ash in his hair, honey on his tongue.
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5432 Posts

Posted - 10/30/2011 :  01:29:31  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
BREAUX BRIDGE, LOUISIANA

Breaux Bridge, Louisiana
On the way to New Orleans
A plate of crawfish etouffee
A band of Cajun teens
Twin fiddles and accordion
The washboard player beams
Breaux Bridge, Louisiana
On the way to New Orleans

These young kids know old zydeco
That bow cuts like a knife
Solitude and comin' home
Songs of the shrimping life
Double-stops and two-step hops
Tradition, alive and well
Love and pain and pourin' rain
A dancin' Creole belle

The winds blow in from Kaplan
From Lake Charles, Bayou Noir
The soul of Clifton Chenier
Haunts this roadside bar
Now they play the 'Lovebridge Waltz'
By old Iry LeJeune
Iry's been dead fifty years
He's alive inside this room

A photograph of Harry Chaotes
Framed up on the wall
Queen Ida's there beside him
Smilin' on us all
Give me bontemps tout les temps
Give me Jolie Blonde
Let the music take me back
To better days, long gone

Breaux Bridge, Louisiana
On the way to New Orleans
A plate of crawfish etouffee
A band of Cajun teens
Twin fiddles and accordion
The washboard player beams
Breaux Bridge, Louisiana
On the way to New Orleans

DL
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1844 Posts

Posted - 11/03/2011 :  19:15:15  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Late in the story. Somewhere near the end.
Quails in the tumbleweed. Bees in the armoire.
The mute fortune teller with her ruby-stung ears.
The puppet master with a bit of sawdust in his pocket.
The rasp of his calloused thumb blazing the word in her palm.
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Craig
Firefly

Kyrgyzstan
3790 Posts

Posted - 11/04/2011 :  03:51:27  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
quote:
Originally posted by Doug L

BREAUX BRIDGE, LOUISIANA

Breaux Bridge, Louisiana
On the way to New Orleans
A plate of crawfish etouffee
A band of Cajun teens
Twin fiddles and accordion
The washboard player beams
Breaux Bridge, Louisiana
On the way to New Orleans

These young kids know old zydeco
That bow cuts like a knife
Solitude and comin' home
Songs of the shrimping life
Double-stops and two-step hops
Tradition, alive and well
Love and pain and pourin' rain
A dancin' Creole belle

The winds blow in from Kaplan
From Lake Charles, Bayou Noir
The soul of Clifton Chenier
Haunts this roadside bar
Now they play the 'Lovebridge Waltz'
By old Iry LeJeune
Iry's been dead fifty years
He's alive inside this room

A photograph of Harry Chaotes
Framed up on the wall
Queen Ida's there beside him
Smilin' on us all
Give me bontemps tout les temps
Give me Jolie Blonde
Let the music take me back
To better days, long gone

Breaux Bridge, Louisiana
On the way to New Orleans
A plate of crawfish etouffee
A band of Cajun teens
Twin fiddles and accordion
The washboard player beams
Breaux Bridge, Louisiana
On the way to New Orleans

DL




Stomping grounds, mine and Koala's. We lived it. I still do.

Craig
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Karen Runk
Firefly

USA
4925 Posts

Posted - 11/04/2011 :  07:26:57  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send Karen Runk an AOL message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply


Karen Runk
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5432 Posts

Posted - 11/04/2011 :  15:54:35  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
'39 DODGE

Was a cafe, I forget the name
We'd just had fish and chips
And I took for gospel every word
That crossed my daddy's lips
He'd talk of hockey players
Some cat they called Emile
Defrost fan on the windows
My father at the wheel
Of a Dodge they built in '39
Plowing through the snow
On Main Street, in my hometown
Long ago

A few weeks before Christmas
Colder than a fridge
Up the ramp that led across
The Fourth Avenue bridge
Turning left on Coteau
By the Co-Op Store
My legs dangling from the seat
I couldn't reach the floor
Of that Dodge they built in '39
Crunching through the snow
On South Hill, in my hometown
Long ago

Mom was up and waiting
Wood stove on for heat
She made us both a cocoa
A bedtime snack to eat
Pajamas, then I'd brush my teeth
Get a kiss good night
The street outside in silence
Parked under the light
Was a Dodge they built in '39
Covered up with snow
On Duffield Street, my hometown
Long ago

DL
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BarbraG
Windchimer

1824 Posts

Posted - 11/04/2011 :  21:39:40  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Wonderful reflections, Doug .. I have a few of my own ..

BarbraG
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