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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 01/07/2012 :  20:40:52  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I could have sworn I had told her
I had nothing left to give
The future made no promises
Velvet days and nights were lived.
[The spark tastes too delicious
It's so hard to be denied
Our hearts are fed by wishes
And starved by foolish pride.]

It's what dreams are made of
On starry starry nights
It's what leads to madness
And the wrong thing feeling right.
It's the agony and ecstacy
With almost nothing in between
It's what makes us bear the world
The leaves fall, the grass turns green

We do the dance and we lick our lips
And we never see the bruise
It's a lover that we think we want
It's a friend we always lose.
[The lips, the nights, the tangled hair
Then days without desire
It doesn't take a hurricane
To take the spark out of the fire.]

It's what dreams are made of
On starry starry nights
It's what leads to madness
And the wrong thing feeling right.
It's the agony and ecstacy
With almost nothing in between
It's what makes us bear the world
The leaves fall, the grass turns green

I could have sworn I had told her
I had nothing left to give
The future made no promises
Velvet days and nights were lived.
[The spark tastes too delicious
It's so hard to be denied
Our hearts are fed by wishes
And starved by foolish pride.]




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rodeo
Swinger

USA
733 Posts

Posted - 01/12/2012 :  11:41:43  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Once again, sir, you have read my mail.

"...I'm torn...my heart is worn
down to the coals and ashes that are all that's left
when the fire is nearly gone..." circle c, jhurt,jhutch,jraley

rjr
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 01/14/2012 :  06:38:20  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
She appeared out of the silence.

Glow of a fire from far off down the beach.
Curve of hips against the ocean.
Tangy taste of saltwater on her lips,
hair slick and shiny in the moonlight.

Arms encircling bare backs.
Breathing coming in gulps,
throats growing huskier...

Laying entwined in the sand,
legs around legs,
arm over chest,
she asked me if I had remembered
to turn off the coffee pot..
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San Diego
Rocker

435 Posts

Posted - 01/15/2012 :  13:09:32  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
-for Reverend B
Wim Wenders "Pina". If it comes to your town, see it.

"Dance, dance, otherwise we are lost."
-Pina Bausch
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1610 Posts

Posted - 01/15/2012 :  13:12:38  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The stars are on edge in Acapulco. Red headlines. Bullet-pocked walls. Rosaries with tears. Fat candles colossal with grief. Juan Diego's Advent apron stippled with the Virgin's blood.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1610 Posts

Posted - 01/15/2012 :  13:20:49  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Trapeze

See how the first dark takes the city in its arms
and carries it into what yesterday we called the future.
O, the dying are such acrobats.
Here you must take a boat from one day to the next,
or clutch the girders of the bridge, hand over hand.
But they are sailing like a pendulum between eternity and evening,
diving, recovering, balancing the air.
Who can tell at this hour seabirds from starlings,
wind from revolving doors or currents off the river.
Some are as children on swings pumping higher and higher.
Don't call them back, don't call them in for supper.
See, they leave scuff marks like jet trails on the sky.

-Deborah Digges
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1610 Posts

Posted - 01/15/2012 :  13:25:20  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Air-light you come to me now. Heart sailing. Honeycomb lungs, luminescent. Quick-silver hair through my startled fingers. You draw your hand across your forehead, trace your brow, place the thought there. Melancholy right eye when you smile.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1610 Posts

Posted - 01/16/2012 :  19:26:17  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"No color! No color!" the client says, "Shadows!" He points to a sample called "graphite". (What does that tell you?) He's black and white. Not a red man. Spades and clubs only. No diamonds or hearts for his Goth Salon and amulet-driven dream. Birds that swim in glass. Fish that fly in trees. "...and this buckle to hold the sky there," he points. "Can you do somethin' with that, honey?" "What do you want exactly," I ask him. "The River Styx," he says. It'll take a little alizarin crimson to make that buckle shine.
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5422 Posts

Posted - 01/16/2012 :  23:35:17  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Today The Sun
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4N_UDRXYaxM
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San Diego
Rocker

435 Posts

Posted - 01/18/2012 :  06:52:36  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Doug, Lovely to hear this this morning.
Out into the bumper to bumper.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 01/18/2012 :  18:30:45  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
quote:
Originally posted by San Diego

-for Reverend B
Wim Wenders "Pina". If it comes to your town, see it.

"Dance, dance, otherwise we are lost."
-Pina Bausch




Thank you, I will
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 01/21/2012 :  18:22:37  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
If you pass the stray thought
that you have nothing left to lose,
and linger,
then you also have to be reminded
of just what it was that you lost;
or squandered, or misplaced or
had ripped away or
outlived.

Not lingering is best;
the days are so long, the nights are so short
and the mornings come too fast.
But, we all keep working and
Smiling and dancing our way thru
waiting for that next shift.

But, Oh, how the legs seem to get weaker every day
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San Diego
Rocker

435 Posts

Posted - 01/22/2012 :  18:30:40  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Friday night Creative Writing Class-

Robber's filling me in on the scene in the Dayroom; "...an' Marco's practicing his killer-for-hire glare in the micro...too many Bobby DeNiro movies! An', oh! Place-setting for two for Alma an' her attitude, PLEASE!" Marco's one of the cooks at Sunrise, and Alma, well... Miss Jersey Shores 1944, and don't you ever forget it! Had eyes for McKenna since the day he showed up with that blue Bic tucked behind his ear. Fair Elise, authentically guileless, had the inside track from the get-go. That's what irritates Alma so. "Miss Alma, you jus' gotta stop scratchin' that itch an' get yourself another hobby! I told her," Robber says. Meanwhile, Elise and McKenna, (now Mr. and Mrs.) coo by the etched Bird of Paradise window. "Kinda makes ya believe there's hope for us all," Marco says later, jabbing me with his sharp elbow to show he's not sentimental.

Note to Joe Z: I never mentioned the movie, Somewhere In Time. They've got a kind of magic I won't mess with. Love to you. Ro
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Bill Smith
Windchimer

2388 Posts

Posted - 01/22/2012 :  20:55:07  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Damned, I was gonna' drop by and leave a line or two, but I can't compete with y'all. I'll be back tomorrow night in disguise and give it a shot. That way, you won't know it's me, and I won't be embarrased. Hmmmmmmmmmmm, what we a good disguise? How about "pseudonymn" I probably didn't spell that right?

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Ailinn
Windchimer

1610 Posts

Posted - 01/23/2012 :  18:04:26  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Denny's on Sunset at 3am. Between CBS and ABC. The show that never closes. Handy if you're doing live feed to the east coast and need a muffin fix and coffee. Call ahead and they'll be waiting for you at the register. Lou D's secret maple butter in a tub on the side.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1610 Posts

Posted - 01/23/2012 :  18:07:49  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
And then there was the night... That night. "Hop in," he said. The blooming moon, the astonishing star-pierced sky. The night turning blue. The lights from the city disappearing. His elbow out the window. A web of back roads in the corner of his eye.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 01/26/2012 :  17:08:33  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
It was twenty years ago this spring.
I told her we needed to go for a ride.
As we crossed the reservoir,
I said,
Do you ever think about the minutes
just before a moment that you will remember
the rest of your life?

She laughed and said, No, honey, why?

I said, This is one of them
and I began to tell her about Martina...

I'll never forget that laugh.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1610 Posts

Posted - 01/29/2012 :  20:13:50  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
His nautical charts dog-eared and finger-worn
Her rough woolen cloak heavy
Ocean-wet at the hem
Through the creak and shiver of seafaring days
They made their way back to Durrow
Mist-slicked cliffs and feral-prowling fog
Heathered moors insistent and foretelling
Stone cottage cobbled to a battle-trod road
Scrim of damp at the hearth's edge
Ashes from the past to enthrall them
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 02/02/2012 :  18:32:03  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Precious endings,anxious beginnings.
A rest stop on the road to eternity.
Eyes meet level as the waves tilt the table.
She holds her teacup as my coffee spills.

Her laugh echoes across the water and
into forever
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1610 Posts

Posted - 02/13/2012 :  17:53:40  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Union Station's high wheeled chandeliers. China Town and Mok's Gateway Dragons. Olvera Street's Guadalupe Virgins. She's weaving her way through clay pots and ten dollar painted guitars to his white shirt shining like a beacon through a crush of market umbrellas. The man at the night desk pays no attention when he registers with the dead poet's name. There's the souvenir snow globe on the nightstand. Crystal flakes sifting down through the trees. Sunshine exploding over a honky-tonk hotel. Their harrowed hearts, their two worlds side-by-side colliding.

Edited by - Ailinn on 10/11/2013 12:00:09
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