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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 09/09/2005 :  22:42:51  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
In the heart of the night
In the cool southern rain
There's a full moon in sight
Shining down on the Pontchartrain

And the river she rises
Like she used to do
She's so full of surprises
She reminds me of you
In the heart of the night

There's a nightbird singing
Right on through till the dawn
And the streets are still ringing
With people carrying on

It's been so long waiting
Just to be here again
Anticipating
All the time I could spend
In the heart of the night down in New Orleans
In the heart of the night down in New Orleans

And I trust in your love never falling down
And I trust in your love
Just like I do in this town never falling down

And I'm so glad to be back in New Orleans
Please don't wake me, don't shake me,
If this is only just a dream
It's the only place I can face that feels so right
Below that Dixie moon and loving you
In the Heart of the Night

Poco
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1613 Posts

Posted - 09/10/2005 :  19:45:03  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Sometimes a sorrow we cannot conquer. The sky comes apart. Rain behind our eyes. Even though the sun is shining. That's when we put our palms together and pray.
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aussiedave
Swinger

Australia
506 Posts

Posted - 09/11/2005 :  04:53:08  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send aussiedave a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Amen........

My wife ain't talkin' to me at the moment........not since I went out and got myself a tattoo. I talked to her about it,before I went and got it done of course. a man ain't completely 'stoopid'.

well to tell you the truth,it was my second tattoo. I got the first one,twelve months ago, so it wasn't like a complete surprise for the little lady. we are comin' up to 29 years married this December, so I hope she kinda knows me a little by now.

" A tattoo" she said
"how old are you" she said

I said, "old enough to know better"

she just gave me one of those looks
she turned to walk away. I said "I've ordered the Harley Davidson and it will be delivered here next week"

well that went over like the proverbial lead balloon.

oh yeah the tattoo......it reads 'Mickey Newbury-Heaven Help the Child' on the inside of my left arm.

Am I the only guy that has Mickey tattooed on his arm........or am i the first one to start something.

AD
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1613 Posts

Posted - 09/11/2005 :  17:46:56  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Unreliable twilight. Fate in the tamarisk grove. His eyes closed. Closed always. Perhaps praying. Where fate waits. "How much longer?" he says. When he talked about writing. "Imagination. Memory and dreams. Nothing stronger, Ro. Shadows and nostalgia. A melancholy edge to this gift." The core of him so narrowly private. Emotion and pathos so pure. He's universal. A true parallax view.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1613 Posts

Posted - 09/11/2005 :  17:50:08  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Listen. You can sleep later. Until you help,
Sleep will never visit you anyway
If you're still the person you used to be
And understand how much you're needed,
How a sign from you can set me free.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1613 Posts

Posted - 09/11/2005 :  17:51:20  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The above is by Carl Dennis.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1613 Posts

Posted - 09/11/2005 :  17:53:33  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"...Your starry voice all shadow now
and the earth dark again..."

Louise Gluck
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1613 Posts

Posted - 09/11/2005 :  17:56:24  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
...yes. Pull the plug. Unfasten this clock, September...
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 09/12/2005 :  14:22:03  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
AD, you're the only one between US two with a Mickey tatoo.... In fact, I have none for no apparent reason other than laziness.... Barbie, very early on, had a little bear with a honeypot in his lap that said HANK tatooed on her shoulder... Quite an optimist, my lady was; but she turned out to be right.... I hung around til she went... Turns out Hank was the right name for her body forever.... HB
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1613 Posts

Posted - 09/12/2005 :  20:26:16  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Candles

If on your grandmother's birthday you burn a candle
To honor her memory, you might think of burning an extra
To honor the memory of someone who never met her,
A man who may have come to the town she lived in
Looking for work but couldn't find it.
Picture him taking a stroll one morning,
After a wasted month with the want ads,
To refresh himself in the park before moving on.
Suppose he notices on the gravel path the shards
Of a green glass bottle that your grandmother,
Then still a girl, will be destined to step on
When she wanders barefoot away from her school picnic
If he doesn't stoop down and scoop the mess up
With the want-ad section and carry it to a trash can.

For you to burn a candle for him
You needn't suppose the cut would be a deep one,
Just deep enough to keep her at home
The night of the hayride when she meets Helen,
Who is soon to become her dearest friend;
Whose brother George, thirty years later,
Helps your grandfather with a loan so his shoe store
Doesn't go under in the Great Depression
And his son, your father, is able to stay in school
Where his love of learning is fanned into flames,
A love he labors, later, to kindle in you.

How grateful you are for your father's efforts
Is shown by the candles you've burned for him.
But today, for a change, why not a candle
For the man whose name is unknown to you?
Take a moment to wonder whether he died at home
With friends and family or alone on the road,
With no one to sit at his bedside
And hold his hand, the very hand
It's time for you to imagine holding.

Carl Dennis
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1613 Posts

Posted - 09/14/2005 :  20:42:35  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"That's the best Greek Salad in Paradise," the waiter says on the candle-lit patio. They're miles away from the desert's swaying green mesquite. Under a Crayola-colored sunset they study the olives. The oil. The feta cheese. She collects recipes, so he parts the beaded-curtain that serves as a kitchen door. Walks into the thimble-size room of blackened pots brewing. Lit ships slide by on the horizon. Gulls cry and make their tiny sailboat imprints in the sand. The Ocean pulls under the Pier. A plastic mermaid fountain hooked up to a garden hose murmurs nearby. "Lemon zest and red pepper flakes!" he says triumphantly returning. Enough magic for one night.

Paradise Cove off the PCH. Where Jim Rockford parked his trailer.
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5422 Posts

Posted - 09/14/2005 :  21:11:19  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The Carl Dennis poem woke the old man
who sleeps at the bottom of the lake, Ailinn.
I pause to admire your kindness in lighting
a candle for all of us every night, here.

visit http://www.betterdaysradio.blogspot.com
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 09/15/2005 :  15:06:28  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
There's a candle in the
Upstairs window again tonight
My Love...

I don't know where you are or
If you can see it, but
It's for me as much as you...
I have a hole in my heart in the
Shape of you and nothing
Seems to fill it...
I know that I should get along
And try to live my life
But excuse me for little while,
World,
While I learn to live without
The better half of me...

Some nights I dance alone
In the living room where
We danced our August Waltz
When you could still
Dance...
And I look at where you
Would lay while I would read
You Spenser and Elmore
And Raymond Chandler
When you could still
Listen...
And I imagine you dancing
And listening and holding me
And loving me
When you could still
Love me...

There's a candle in the
Upstairs window again tonight
My Love... HB-2003


http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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booty
Sitter

USA
93 Posts

Posted - 09/15/2005 :  21:25:18  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Frank had no prospect--no sweet befell
From the soul of wisdom to fare the well.
He gave nothing from selfishness, let lewd dispose
Unable to see, a man beareth that grows.

A tycoon becoming rank resigned from that could,
Be the truth of uncertainty in all likelihood.
He took no adventure to create the loveliest art,
Revealing that which bestows the lasting part.

No Comradery with the best to bring together
And tune the world, birds-of-a-feather.
He never painted a pretty picture with a dash of glitter,
Nor found the imerishable to be, a small endeavor.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1613 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.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1613 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
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1613 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
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1613 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.
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5422 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
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1613 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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