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Ailinn
Windchimer

1809 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.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2703 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/
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1809 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.

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Ailinn
Windchimer

1809 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.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1809 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.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1809 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
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1809 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.
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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
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1809 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.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1809 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.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2703 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/
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2703 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
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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
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1809 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?
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1809 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.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2703 Posts

Posted - 10/02/2005 :  01:00:01  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
You are killin me..When Coltrane left a passage he would wink at Miles to let him know he was thru... You could wink forever and I would never catch up witchou... HB

http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1809 Posts

Posted - 10/02/2005 :  16:16:28  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He worked so hard to set out his web for the day. Strong. Silver. Asymmetrical. If you swing a bat it will still come down, though. I don't know much about spiders. I don't like them particularly. We once drove across a streaming wash and stopped for a family to cross. Tarantulas or Trap Doors. I'm not sure which. Mom, Dad, and the kids out for a Sunday stroll. The folks, big as dinner plates. I'm not kidding. I asked Stu to get out of the truck and take their picture. Once he was standing on the road I made the mistake of telling him I had read they can jump 12 feet. End of photo opportunity. Anyway... I think we'll leave the web intact and play ball in the street today.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1809 Posts

Posted - 10/02/2005 :  16:18:08  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Spectral fog. Fluted shells. Stones that turn and murmur. A love-infused memory. A scrim of delight. A shiver of alarm and longing.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1809 Posts

Posted - 10/04/2005 :  19:16:18  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"...and a ruby at the top of the mast. The ship is well-provisioned. The Sea is silently still. A light breeze is finding its way. Nothing... Nothing to fear. Nothing to harm you... So close your sleepy eyes...and sail..."

~Mickey Newbury~
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Randy B
Swinger

USA
586 Posts

Posted - 10/05/2005 :  05:35:40  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
All this talk of spiders at the perfect time of year. Seems like everything that crawls is trying to come inside. Trick or Treat!

I was in the garage painting something with an almond colored spray and noticed the perfect web built between the dolly and a shelf. The artist was not home and hadn't signed his work. I noticed that the spray in the air settled on the perfect symmetry and made it larger. As I misted it lightly, it became more visible with every pass of the can. One last spray and a 16 inch square of black matboard brought in from behind to capture and preserve forever a labor not of love, but necessity. Still beautiful. Still.
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