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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5432 Posts

Posted - 10/29/2005 :  22:55:32  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
You, darkness, of whom I am born
I love you more than the flame
that limits the world
to the circle it illumines
and excludes all the rest.

But the darkness embraces everything:
shapes and shadows, creatures and me,
people, nations -- just as they are.

It allows me to imagine
a great presence stirring in me.

Ich glaube an Nachte.

I believe in the night.

Rilke

visit http://www.betterdaysradio.blogspot.com
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Egbert
Swinger

Netherlands
812 Posts

Posted - 10/30/2005 :  00:50:42  Show Profile  Visit Egbert's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He who wants to stand in the light, must travel in the darkness...
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1841 Posts

Posted - 10/30/2005 :  17:46:01  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Item in the San Diego Union:
Kentwood in the Pines

An airborne wild turkey struck a motorcyclist on State Route 79 yesterday.

Two turkeys were walking across southbound Route 79 near Royal Drive about 11:15am., said Officer Brian Pennings of the California Highway Patrol.

One turkey began to fly and struck a southbound motorcyclist in the chest. The impact caused the rider of the 2001 Harley Davidson Softail to cross into the northbound lanes and go into an embankment.
The 56 year old man hit a manzinita bush and rolled over twice. He was thrown from the motorcycle and suffered abrasions to the right side of his face and complained of back and chest pains, Pennings said.

The turkey that hit the man died, Pennings said.

The fate of the second turkey wasn't known.

*

(Probably worrying about that Thanksgiving rumor.)
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1841 Posts

Posted - 10/30/2005 :  17:54:19  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
...and in the LA Times:

The city of Malibu has a message for its residents: When a big quake hits, don't wax up the board and head to the beach.

"Never go to the beach to surf a tsunami wave!" the guide states in bold letters.

The Malibu brochure urges residents to immediately head to higher ground.

But would anyone really think of surfing a tsunami?

"You just never know," Davis, the initiator of the warning said.

*
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1841 Posts

Posted - 11/01/2005 :  22:03:32  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
We're back at The Lost Hotel. Armed with our kindergarten glitter.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1841 Posts

Posted - 11/01/2005 :  22:10:35  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
75 degrees at 10pm. Santa Ana has the leaves curling on the trees. Scritch-scratching at the windows begging to come in. The air smells like biscuits burning. November's erstwhile message. Some evenings after dishes they row out to the ship. Gradually disappearing. Frail, but still with enough silhouette left to warm the kettle in the galley. There they sit on rough planks under stars. He, in love with Orion's bright three. She, with mute Cassiopeia. They drink the tea of rememberance until the night delivers its dark. Faithfully. And on time.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1841 Posts

Posted - 11/02/2005 :  19:22:34  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Off Mulholland. The man lays his heart on the table. The woman puts the peppermill down. Stirs the stew with a long wooden ladle. The golden arrow under her shirt. The place where her heart used to be. He plants his boots on the old oaken stretcher. Coffee steaming under his nose. Beyond the cove, sacred trees. Shelter for the ship silently rocking. There's a moon in the attic. Stars on the stairs. A blue light in his eyes. Still burning.
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Karen Runk
Firefly

USA
4925 Posts

Posted - 11/02/2005 :  20:24:58  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send Karen Runk an AOL message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I can see it all now. mmmmmm

I can hear the waves.....like the cello.

Karen Runk
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1841 Posts

Posted - 11/11/2005 :  20:55:21  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The little house in the Cove. Pine cupboards set cater-cornered. Salt settling on the finials of the old iron bed. Reliquary compartment hidden in the bureau drawer. Curlicue patterned. His cap and coat folded neatly on the window seat where he watches the tall ships arrive. Pirates and Sailors. Renegade Saints. Loves abandoned refugees. She leans on his navigational instruction. Leaves his sea shoes by the door. Leaves the scrolled gate to rust open. The crushed stars, undilluted on the floor. The path he walks across, well-lit now. Despite November's unreliable light.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2703 Posts

Posted - 11/11/2005 :  21:14:56  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
October has given me so little; November must have more to give... The crew waits for my direction.... I have little else to give them except to go North...

http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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Karen Runk
Firefly

USA
4925 Posts

Posted - 11/11/2005 :  21:21:11  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send Karen Runk an AOL message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Be thankful for many things. Life, music, children, faith, freedom, love, etc......

I'm so thankful that God loves us. What else is life about?

Besides you and I have birthdays a day apart. heh heh

Let's celebrate!!!

Karen Runk
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5432 Posts

Posted - 11/11/2005 :  22:49:27  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The Abnormal Is Not Courage

The Poles rode out from Warsaw against the German
Tanks on horses. Rode knowing, in sunlight, with sabers,
A magnitude of beauty that allows me no peace.
And yet this poem would lessen that day. Question
The bravery. Say it's not courage. Call it a passion.
Would say courage isn't that. Not at its best.
It was impossible, and with form. They rode in sunlight,
Were mangled. But I say courage is not the abnormal.
Not the marvelous act. Not Macbeth with fine speeches.
The worthless can manage in public, or for the moment.
It is too near the whore's heart: the bounty of impulse,
And the failure to sustain even small kindness.
Not the marvelous act, but the evident conclusion of being.
Not strangeness, but a leap forward of the same quality.
Accomplishment. The even loyalty. But fresh.
Not the Prodigal Son, nor Faustus. But Penelope.
The thing steady and clear. Then the crescendo.
The real form. The culmination. And the exceeding.
Not the surprise. The amazed understanding. The marriage,
Not the month's rapture. Not the exception. The beauty
That is of many days. Steady and clear.
It is the normal excellence, of long accomplishment


Jack Gilbert


Edited by - Doug L on 11/11/2005 22:50:26
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2703 Posts

Posted - 11/12/2005 :  13:01:32  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Lang..... You and Roison are such a treasure.... oh my God.....
Thank you, Newbury for bringing these people into my life..... There is not enuf gold to pay Mick for what his songs and meeting you folks has meant to me....
OK, back to your real lives, Knuckleheads.... Hank

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

1841 Posts

Posted - 11/12/2005 :  18:18:30  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Through veiled green mesquite trees she talks with her hands. He listens with his heart when she trips over clouds walking backwards. "One life many times," he tells her teaching her to fly. The future in his eyes when he takes her into the sky. How his blue hair burns the pillow.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1841 Posts

Posted - 11/13/2005 :  18:52:32  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Standard time. The kettles tune. Steaming late Fall's kitchen window blind. "Okay," she says. "This is how the heart works," he says. Laughing in a coastal town where she chooses mangos and avocados under a green and white striped awning. Patting the fat tomatoes. Still afternoon sun-warmed. She has bells on her shoes. Tied with invisible fish line. The moon of memory burns. The nights lay down together. The perpetual stars spin in their fatal insomnia. "Flame. Not sparkle," he says. Again.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2703 Posts

Posted - 11/15/2005 :  21:31:31  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The horse stopped at the river...
She knew it was where I hid the moon...

She skittered,
she danced,

oh, how I loved when a horse danced...
She loved when she found
My secret place...

There were so many places that she
Had never found thet I
Could never tell her...

If I told her
I would have to leave her...

So many places yet to find,,,,

She has yet to find the sun....

Rev Buckman


http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2703 Posts

Posted - 11/16/2005 :  07:58:28  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
There are thoughts which are prayers.

There are

moments when,

whatever the posture of the body,

the soul is on its knees.

--Victor Hugo
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2703 Posts

Posted - 11/16/2005 :  08:59:07  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Mom and Dad took me to the
Old Madison Square Garden in 1959
To see the Roy Roger's Rodeo...
The Sons of the Pioneers sat right
In front of us
Tall on their horses and sang
Cool Water and the horses never moved...

When they sang Tumbling Tumbleweeds
The horses danced sideways like they
Really liked this one...
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Karen Runk
Firefly

USA
4925 Posts

Posted - 11/16/2005 :  10:21:09  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send Karen Runk an AOL message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Oh lucky you. That was my kid's dream to see Roy and the whole bunch. I had to settle for Saturday matinees, or radio programs.

But, I have Lois to fill me in on things. Her last name isn't Spencer for nothing.

I try to catch Riders in the Sky when they come to town. The draw a big crowd.

Karen Runk
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Randy B
Swinger

USA
586 Posts

Posted - 11/18/2005 :  05:52:53  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
St. Cecelia couldn't save him
But she gave him a little time
To water the flowers in his garden
And become a friend of mine
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