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 155 Lock Topic Edit Topic Delete Topic New Topic Reply to Topic

Ailinn
Windchimer

1692 Posts

Posted - 09/17/2005 :  19:23:43  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Just back from mountain music. Julian Bluegrass Festival. The oldest in California. A Fall tradition. All day apple pie and cider. Banjo pickers and fiddles playin'. Coming home, sunset through the pines.
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1692 Posts

Posted - 09/17/2005 :  19:40:41  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The slender woman in the rain, rounding the corner,
Looks too determined for a trip to the store.
Maybe she turned on her porch a few minutes before
And called back a few reminders to the baby-sitter--
If anyone calls, she's shopping up the block--
Then hurried the other way. Now she's half done
With her journey crosstown to the tenements.
I can see her later as she climbs four flights
And lets herself in with her key.
In the tiny room, dim beneath a bare bulb,
Her friend lies huddled in bed, coughing,
His face to the wall. Without a word
She clears a space at the littered table
And washes two mugs at the sink for tea.

For an hour they discuss the real questions.
Is spirit unfolding itself slowly in history,
As Hegel argues, or holding back,
Camping out all year in open fields?
And why is spirit missing in the new novel
The woman recounts to her friend this week?
It makes her sad to meet characters not permitted
To think for themselves, who have to make do
With reciting, when asked, a few dull proverbs.

The man sipping tea at the table agrees.
He sketches the plot of a fable he's working on,
The Mermaid and the Carpenter, how the two
Meet on the dock, exchange a few words on the weather,
And suddenly love. Imagine the obstacles.

The woman tries to picture their house by the sea
As she walks home later,
Certain their blueprints can be reconsiled.
And now the house floats into focus, its stilts and piers.
The way there seems nearly as clear
As the way this tree on the corner, shining in the rain,
Calls up for me a long walk in the rain
With someone I believe was you.

Carl Dennis
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1692 Posts

Posted - 09/18/2005 :  18:47:23  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He rides three nights across the high desert
When he arrives he knows everything
He shows her a card trick
He tells her a joke
He tells her to stay away from the window
When she takes the bullet out of his chest
He doesn't flinch
Or change his expression
When he makes her lay down beside him
Their sleep flys ahead of the posse
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1692 Posts

Posted - 09/19/2005 :  20:29:38  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Congratulations, Kelly Slater, American surf champion! You did it the hard way. Now the moon shines down on Trestles at San Onofre, and lightning slides under the Coronado Bridge south to Ensenada. Next wave, Paris.
Go to Top of Page

Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5425 Posts

Posted - 09/20/2005 :  18:02:48  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
TO ALL MY FRIENDS IN FAR-FLUNG PLACES

To all my friends in far-flung places
When again I'll see your faces
No one knows, no one can say
And none can name the happy day
When we embrace to greet once more
To take up where we were before
The miles and time that come between
The different lives that intervene
Like shadows in a dream
Now I'm with you

And all of you who took me in
Who shared the thick and stretched the thin
Who gave me comfort on the run
Who saved my life, who made it fun
Wherever you may be tonight
I hope this finds your burdens light
Your purpose high, your spirit strong
Oh, I hope that you have got along
My song was lost and gone
If not for you

In strangers' shapes I seem to trace
The lines of old familiar faces
I left my heart so many places
I scarcely know which way is home
And parting is my constant sorrow
Here today and gone tomorrow
I'd like to wake up in some town
And find that you were all around me
And all of us were settled down
And I'd come home

To all my friends in far-flung places
May I stay in your good graces
Hold me in your memory
And when you do not hear from me
Don't think that out of sight is out of mind

For though our lives may lead apart
Still you are always in my heart
The love we share is all I know
And gives me grace to go on now
The love we share is all I know
Gives me grace to go on down the road
That leads me on to meet
My fate, to taste the bittersweet
Of welcome always waiting for me
Somewhere, always
Somewhere down the line

Jane Voss


visit http://www.betterdaysradio.blogspot.com
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1692 Posts

Posted - 09/20/2005 :  18:26:58  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
They live in the city of Frankincenseco. An insistant sea beside their door. Their view of water. A thousand steep hills. A bridge like a bracelet of filigreed gold. "Cold tonight," she shivers. Her teeth chatter. Her long needles pause over sky-blue wool. She's knitting Eternity. He sighs and smiles and nods his pleasure. His breath leaves little pillows on the frosty air. Outside, street lamps hang suspended in halos of fog. Inside, a salty wind lifts lace from the sills. A spatter of rain hits the window when he raises his eyes. Then the candles flicker. The kettle whistles. The kitchen fills with steam.
Go to Top of Page

buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 09/22/2005 :  15:05:23  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I love you.... mean it.... HB

http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1692 Posts

Posted - 09/22/2005 :  19:52:28  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
...you too, HB.

Grania.

PS: Remember the good.

Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1692 Posts

Posted - 09/24/2005 :  17:36:21  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
They live in a gingerbread house under clouds. On a hill at the top of the mountain. Fretted and scalloped. Hearts and flowers cut out of the shutters. A crooked street with a Fortune Teller's cottage at the end.
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1692 Posts

Posted - 09/24/2005 :  17:46:49  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The Fortune Teller doesn't trust electricity. Only candles. And a crystal ball. Soot on her ceilings and walls. Mists swirling in the opalescent globe on the lace-draped table top. Plump, tasty birds. Rosemary and sage-stuffed. Perpetually turning on an arrow-tipped spit. Pyramids of dusty potatoes warming in a corner of the open hearth. A strange, fragrant tea brewing for the few roomers upstairs. Forgotten in tiny rooms. With their high beds that need ladders to climb up into. Pinocchio with his pegged, pine legs. His rosy-red cheeks and green-tipped nose still growing. Barefoot and blistered Cinderella. Her pockets spilling BAND-AIDS. Height-shy Rapunzel, braiding her long synthetic wig. Oh, sure, you know them all. And they get by. In The Fortune Teller's house. Without electricity. Without telephones. Without the daily news or the US Mail. Just those cooing, homing pigeons. And shivering berry-size bells. And that little, blue-trimmed tin drum.
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1692 Posts

Posted - 09/26/2005 :  21:56:01  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Be like those angels said to enjoy the earth
As a summer retreat before man entered the picture,
Staggering under his sack of boundry stones.
They didn't mutter curses as they fastened their wings
And rose in widening farewell circles.
They grieved for the garden growing smaller below them,
Soon to exist only as a story
That every day grows harder to believe."

Carl Dennis
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1692 Posts

Posted - 09/26/2005 :  22:02:04  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Now the sea is stretched tight to the sky. The wind is more salt than sugar. Behind niched walls in ambered light you watch the fire changing. Oh, raise your hand. Move your finger. Blink your eye.
Go to Top of Page

aussiedave
Swinger

Australia
506 Posts

Posted - 09/28/2005 :  05:19:03  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send aussiedave a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
goodnight sweet prince..........good-night>>>>>>>>>>>

AD
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1692 Posts

Posted - 09/28/2005 :  19:10:01  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"...not a day passes by
I don't find myself thinking of you..."

Not an hour.
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1692 Posts

Posted - 09/30/2005 :  20:03:43  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He shows up when the tide is ebbing. Amber-lit galleys floating on the somnolent sea. Stars poking through the cloudbank. His unmistakable silhouette pressing against the night. What is this place where she's waiting? Where he told her to wait. "Simple instructions will follow," he said. Oh, dangerous midnights when he speaks to her and changes her name. Here he comes now. His duffel slung over his shoulder. She hears the gulls cry. Sees the mist rolling in. Water moves under the moon. An old story. And on land, all the roads have Saints names when he opens and closes his eyes.
Go to Top of Page

buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 09/30/2005 :  20:03:59  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Cold December brings me
Brings me nuthin but the blues
Cold December brings me
Brings me nuthin but the blues
Had a horse in evry race
Evry one he up and lose...

When she first left me
Thought I'd make it on my own
When she first left me
Thought I'd make it on my own
Now two years gone I wake up
See the empty bed and moan

Got the feelin you don't like me
Said to God the other day
Got the feelin you don't like me
Said to God the other day
He say nothin, like always
There must be a better way

Cold December brings me
Brings me nuthin but the blues
Cold December brings me
Brings me nuthin but the blues
Had a horse in evry race
Evry one he up and lose...

River she's risin tonight
Risin' higher than the roof
River she's risin tonight
Risin higher than the roof
She don't stop soon
Gonna hafta face the truth

Baby left me
Just when we got good
Baby left me
Just when we got good
Gone so far
She even left the neighborhood

Cold December brings me
Brings me nuthin but the blues
Cold December brings me
Brings me nuthin but the blues
Had a horse in evry race
Evry one he up and lose...


Rev Buckman BarbSong Music 2005

http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
Go to Top of Page

buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 09/30/2005 :  20:07:49  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Goodnight,Sweet Prince..... [When I first said that on the blue board I felt a little funny, like It was just a little too much.... Then he told me bc He loved it and it caught hold a little... Thanks AD for reminding me....] HB

Edited by - buckman on 09/30/2005 21:13:33
Go to Top of Page

Karen Runk
Firefly

USA
4925 Posts

Posted - 10/01/2005 :  09:45:37  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send Karen Runk an AOL message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
First the red, then the green. Two trees, bought at the same time, one getting sick in the middle of summer and her leaves turning brilliant red. Now, the other one....she is sick, almost completely red, too. Autumn is hurriedly shedding the leaves on all the trees, but these two look like they may not come back next year. Looking across the street, I hurt for those two red maples. They lean toward each other, shedding their leaves, waiting for "that day".....

The one in my front yard is still green. It is also a red maple, but it is slowly turning its color, like a good little tree. The squirrels are so busy right now, storing up for the long winter. Climatologists are predicting that we are going to have a harsh winter. Maybe snow, ice storms, high winds, etc. Oregon weather!

Karen Runk
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1692 Posts

Posted - 10/01/2005 :  19:24:33  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Karen~ Your red maple trees remind me of the legend of Baile and Ailinn. From enemy Provinces in the 1380 Book of Durrow. An Irish legend so they both drop dead almost immediately of love and sorrow. An apple tree springs out of Ailinn's grave and the apples bear the face of Baile. Baile's grave produces a yew tree in the appearance of Ailinn. The trees are cut down and made into wands for the poets of their two seperate Provinces. 200 years later, Art the Lonely, High King of Ireland, orders all the wands collected and brought to the Hall of Tara. As soon as the wands are under the same roof they spring together never to be parted. The belief is their two souls prevail with each telling of the story.

PS Who says the Irish are melancholy?
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1692 Posts

Posted - 10/01/2005 :  19:34:32  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He leans in his worn boots in the doorway. A light breeze lifts his heavy hair. They keep the little shop open. Work tirelessly through November. It grows colder. Snow falls on the cobbled stair. Softly. A downy quilt. In the denser light of Durrow his name is a password through Winter's locked door. "Aye, those days are gone, girl," he says. She says, "...see the sea in the keyhole, the rose window's reflection on the floor..." A knock the next morning before he can put a spoon to his breakfast egg. A spatter of rain. And another. "Love, love is a shadow," he says, slinging his duffel up on his wounded shoulder. Pulling his cap low and slipping into fog-bound days.
Go to Top of Page
Page: of 155  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