Mickey Newbury Web Board
Mickey Newbury Web Board
Home | Profile | Register | Active Topics | Members | Search | FAQ
Username:
Password:
Save Password
Forgot your Password? | Admin Options

 All Forums
 The Back Porch
 Open Topic
 The Nightly Vigil
 New Topic  Reply to Topic
 Printer Friendly
Previous Page | Next Page
Author  Topic Next Topic
Page: of 161 Lock Topic Edit Topic Delete Topic New Topic Reply to Topic

Ailinn
Windchimer

1844 Posts

Posted - 06/06/2005 :  19:57:18  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Drove Ralph and Catherine to Valley Center. Mick's music in their courtship. End of June they'll be married 6 months! Mr. & Mrs. Ralph Gardener. Both in their 70's. Glitter-bright sun. Blue sky shining. June finally radiant. Friday he has follow-up. Opthamologist. "An' if I don't get good news I'm changin' doctors," he says. When I walk with him I take his elbow. He doesn't see doorways or stairs. Talking about his "daylight" driving test. When we get to his son's place he says, "...if I don't pass... Well... I jus' give these two a workout," and he slaps his legs. "Can't worry 'bout you worryin' 'bout me all the time now, can I?" He flashes me his unique grim smile. I love this man! I throw my arms around him. I hold him tight. He did everything right his long lifetime. A blanket of prayers for everyone. Wonder moon outside my window. ~Bless Us All~

Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1844 Posts

Posted - 06/09/2005 :  19:52:04  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Apocryphal horses brought him straight to the door of her gaslit shack on the desert. To a woman with a candle behind her eyes came a man descended from fire. Paradise nodding when he pours the second cup of coffee. Butters another slice of toast. Plants his boots firmly on the old oak stretcher. His back to the open oven door. Her heart on the table in a white cup cooling. What more do you need to know?
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1844 Posts

Posted - 06/11/2005 :  19:06:05  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Water works its way into the dream. A ghost ship rocking in the harbor. The moon pulls the tide. To and fro. She knows he's standing at the bow waiting for the right light. His chin lifts as he searches the headlands and curlicue pocket-beach coastline. He lowers the skiff. Soundlessly. Leans easily into the oars. Brings the boat in under the sacred tree's camouflage green. Hurries to the house with its arched prism windows and blue, fret-worked shutters and doors. Where she sleeps with her head pointing North. Her right hand in the ocean. The stars slide across the wide sky. The bougainvillea's papery leaves whisper across the courtyard.
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1844 Posts

Posted - 06/12/2005 :  17:57:37  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
And isn't the past inevitable,
now that we call the little
we remember of it "the past"?

William Matthews
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1844 Posts

Posted - 06/12/2005 :  17:58:57  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Someone's in the kitchen. Whistling...
Go to Top of Page

Karen Runk
Firefly

USA
4925 Posts

Posted - 06/13/2005 :  17:36:42  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send Karen Runk an AOL message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Will she wait for him? His blue eyes stare across the banana split as Grandmother and Grandson have one last time together. Alone. He leaves for Juneau tomorrow, the 14th, at 11 am, framing houses for his dad. He will be gone for the summer. Maybe. It is the first time he has been this long from his mom and brother. But Dad is a good man, a teaching man. Life with him will be good. He kissed my cheek, and we said our goodbyes, me with tears. But, will she wait for him? Love, in the 18th year is both a precious and fickle thing.

Karen Runk
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1844 Posts

Posted - 06/13/2005 :  20:06:52  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
They dream the same dream. For centuries. Lashed to the planks. Barefoot and blindfolded. Adrift on a sea with no name. Their hands bound together. Their raw wrists ticking slow time. He sees land before she does. Wills the boat to the safe, rock-strewn place. Sacred ground. Sacred trees. Here he makes the cut and blends the blood ineffably. Their first fires are mortal and small. A cupful of light put out quickly. Lifetimes later the conflagration ignites the dark nighttime sky.
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1844 Posts

Posted - 06/13/2005 :  20:09:13  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Now...would a dragon that drinks tea...eat mice...hahaha..."

~Mickey Newbury~
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1844 Posts

Posted - 06/14/2005 :  19:46:28  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Eve arrives. Adam moans. Eve squats beside him. Curious. His steady, sleeping breath. The shining rib-shaped empty space. The place she impatiently stepped out of. Eve rests her hand there. Adam's eyes go wide. More surprised than pleased. Around them the Garden shivers.
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1844 Posts

Posted - 06/15/2005 :  20:20:47  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
~Chloe had a sense of style when she waitressed. She brought class to the Diner with those handkerchiefs pinned to her breast. White handkerchiefs with tatted edges in rainbow colors. Lavender for Monday. Saturday was red. And for holidays she found this sparkly thread. Soon we all took up the hankie habit. They looked like orchids sitting up there on our chests. Cora Jean perfumed hers. That lasted 'til noon when Rudy, who drove the big rigs for Southwest Trucking said, "Cora girl, git yer Evening In Paris outta my meatloaf and 'taters, please!" They was sparkin' each other so she didn't take no offense. Then Chloe came up with the hat-trick thing. Little fanned paper tiaras that made us look like prom queens. The tips went up and the cook took to wearin' clean jeans. Chloe's lifetime love was Mortimer. "Morty-face" she called him. She'd run her pearl-painted fingernails through tufts of hair whispering around his earlobes. They'd go to The Firehouse Saturday nights and eat roast beef dinners. "Roast beast," Mortimer called it, "hahaha!" They'd dress up real fine. Chloe in her satin blouse and fringed leather vest. Mortimer in his fresh, Chloe-laundered shirt. Chloe took starch to the next generation. That shirt stood up by itself. "A man could cut himself bad on this thing!" Mortimer said fussin' with the buttons. He wore a bolo tie with a big chunk of turquois, and he polished his pointy-toe boots. They sure had a high old time together. More 'an thirty years ago. When Mortimer passed, Chloe went over to the Home. Then that young singer feller came by. You know, the one who used to sit in the corner booth drinkin' coffee and smokin' cigarettes. He had that beat up satchel full of writin' papers he'd spread all over the place. Saw him waitin' in the lobby at Sunset Acres one day. Lookin' out through the big picture window where Chloe was takin' the sun. "Hurts me to see her like that," he said, "all closed up in her nightie...no shoulders. Bothers me nobody comes to see her." I clearly remember him sayin' that, an' the pain in his voice. "You did," I said. "Yeah, well," he said, and followed the attendent down the long hall. They got on real swell, though. He took to stoppin' in every other week. Brought his guitar sometimes too. Yeah. You'd hear them both laughin'. He sang about the weather alot. Sunshine and rain. Oh, what was his name? Shoot! It's right on the tip of my tongue. Blue eyes he had. Truly blue.~

I posted the above a long time ago from one of Mick's calls. The actual conversation was this:

"Carl. He was a fighter pilot during the war. Cartoonist. Drew Gulliver's Travels. Yeah. Well. His wife... She's 90 now. Didn't like me at first. A country singer with a tattoo. Oh, Lord, Ro! She didn't like that! Over the years we got along, though. She liked to talk to me. We got close. Hurts me to see her now. All closed up in her nightie...no shoulders... Bothers me, Ro. Nobody goes to see her. And I can't. So sad..."

When he told a story he set the picture inside your heart. This conversation ended with Mick laughing. Telling of their happier times together.

Love and blessings to The Wizard.


Edited by - Ailinn on 06/15/2005 22:07:26
Go to Top of Page

aussiedave
Swinger

Australia
506 Posts

Posted - 06/18/2005 :  05:11:50  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send aussiedave a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
.....he was thinking about getting himself a tattoo.He had been thinking about it for quite awhile but never had the courage to go through with it.what 52 year old sane man would seiously consider getting himself tattooed at his age.yes,you are probably right,maybe he was sick of being sane.so he did.get the tattoo I mean.that was twelve months ago.nothing elaborate mind you,just something small,on the upper left arm,out of site,nobody could see it unless he had his shirt off.seems pointless really,why get a tattoo if nobody could see it?
the tattoo that he had in mind was meant to have a special meaning .........for him that is.........maybe meaningless to a lot of others but to him it was something special.

"I'm going to get myself a tattoo" he said.
"what!" she said,in an incredulous voice "a tattoo,what ever for,why would you do that to yourself?" "are you insane?"

he thought about it for awhile and thought,yeah,maybe I am.
so he did..........he went and got himself a tattoo,just three letters. it only took the tattooist about a half hour and it was finished.As he sat in the tattooists chair ,waiting patiently whilst the man did what he had to do,he found himself reminiscing.his thoughts took him back 30 years,when he met a young girl,she had flaming red hair and the cutest upturned nose.he remembered one day whilst they were sitting together on her parents sofa,he quickly pressed his nose to hers and whispered, "Eskimos" .......she didn't hear him.
The tattooist finished........"there you go,what do you think"
It snapped him back to the present. "great,jonno,yes i like it"

He walked out of the shop,and his thoughts turned to another lady,whose funeral he had attended 12 months previously.her name was Jenny,she was 53............why,he thought,why???????

there was no answer.
oh,and the three letters that he had tattooed on his upper arm?
...................OWM..............

must mean something to him I guess.

he is thinking about going back for another tattoo.he said something about a guy called Mickey Newbury.

Adave.
check this out.
http://dnriddell.blogspot.com/





Go to Top of Page

Karen Runk
Firefly

USA
4925 Posts

Posted - 06/27/2005 :  21:41:26  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send Karen Runk an AOL message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Oh man, I love you , aussiedave.......

from Oregon.....

the other.......

Karen Runk
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1844 Posts

Posted - 07/03/2005 :  18:45:18  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Asleep off Mulholland. Away in the trees. The moon in its right place. Hiding. Certainly sterling. Not plated. Caught in the deep gauze warp and weave of it. Rapt attention. Gazing into God's dark eyes. The man lays his heart on the table. His incarnate wisdom fraying the cuffs of his fresh-pressed black trousers. His pointy-collar black satin shirt. Rivulets of sweat funnel down. Frost feathers out of his mouth. Moment to moment. Memory and the present wired in.
Go to Top of Page

Jonmark
Windchimer

USA
1787 Posts

Posted - 07/03/2005 :  18:58:30  Show Profile  Visit Jonmark's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Wow.
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1844 Posts

Posted - 07/04/2005 :  20:18:46  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Hello, Jonmark~
I was so sorry to miss seeing and hearing you, and meeting Bree in Austin. Happy Fourth! And... Happy Birthday, Stephen Collins Foster!
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1844 Posts

Posted - 07/04/2005 :  20:28:28  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Robin, being a gentleman born, after 15 minutes fencing, allows Her Majesty Queen Eleanor's Page, Richard Partington, to "win". A cut to Robin's wrist draws blood. "Are you satisfied, fellow?" Partington asks. But Partington is... Maid Marian in disguise! And Robin knows her by the golden arrow she wears under her shirt. A gift from him in childhood. Ahh... The farther she steps back from the big picture, the clearer it becomes. "Pixels," he says. And, "To live, we must eat fire and walk on glass. Tremble. As if in the clutches of influenza. Rearrange the cumbersome furniture of Earth." Under a radiant, plum-colored sky they arrive at the beginning again.

Edited by - Ailinn on 07/04/2005 21:51:15
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1844 Posts

Posted - 07/07/2005 :  18:32:10  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The Other Day I Ran
into Garcia Lorca

I recognized him
by the slim bow tie
his lips
his eyes
olive colored

guitars
wept and
the afternoon
danced
flamenco

suddenly
he stood
walked
directly
to my table

and planted
a kiss like
an Andalusian
sun
on my lips

Francisco X. Alarcon
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1844 Posts

Posted - 07/19/2005 :  18:34:55  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
When they lived in Just Imagine City seperated by zigzag inlets and a missing-plank covered bridge, they depended upon the Port Ferry to deliver them home. Their care then was for what they could carry in their string shopping bags. And how far they would have to walk. Sure, their tastes were different. He had a sweet tooth which required provisions in baskets and sacks. Stone-ground flour and confectioners' sugar. Molasses. Speckled brown eggs. She, on the other hand, had a penchant for hardware. Naturally, when they bought that tall ladder they carried it between them over Rut Road. His treasures being stored ceiling-high. She tried to stay up with him. His wings. In the soft loft of their kitchen sky. Sometimes she'd drag the ladder across the sugar-flecked floor and climb to the topmost cupboard. Oh, how treats rained down on him when she'd open those cabinet doors.

~Happy Anniversary Catherine and Ralph Gardner! Every day's a celebration.~
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1844 Posts

Posted - 07/21/2005 :  19:26:37  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Dust in the wheat, sand in the deserts,
time, wandering water, the vague wind
swept us on like sailing seeds.
We might not have found one another in time.

This meadow where we find ourselves,
O little infinity! we give it back.
But Love, this love has not ended.

Pablo Neruda
Go to Top of Page

buckman
Firefly

USA
2705 Posts

Posted - 07/22/2005 :  15:03:16  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Ailinn..... You are my greatest joy.... You are a Treasure...... Thanks for still writing.... Buckman

http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
Go to Top of Page
Page: of 161  Topic Next Topic   Lock Topic Edit Topic Delete Topic New Topic Reply to Topic
Previous Page | Next Page
 New Topic  Reply to Topic
 Printer Friendly
Jump To:
Mickey Newbury Web Board © 2003 Mickeynewbury.com Go To Top Of Page
Snitz Forums 2000