| Author |
Topic  |
|
|
buckman
Firefly
    
USA
2684 Posts |
Posted - 05/14/2006 : 17:21:26
|
The horse came back to me tonite... Came from behind Nudging me Head down, pawing the ground... I said, Baby girl, The secrets we keep from each other Are the same ones we keep from ourselves...
Don't take it personally, OK?
Rev Buckman
|
 |
|
|
buckman
Firefly
    
USA
2684 Posts |
Posted - 05/14/2006 : 18:11:36
|
An hour after the horse came back I could hear Carmelita limping Up to my room... I said that I had gotten so tired Of not hearing a voice that I had been talking to myself for three days... I said that I had decided that Evry poet is a warrior and Evry warrior a poet... And she looked at me with that black hair And black eyes that I would have died to see Just once and said...
Shuttup, Preacher, Lie down and please, Just shuttup...
Rev Buckman
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
|
 |
|
|
Doug L
Firefly
    
Canada
5390 Posts |
Posted - 05/14/2006 : 21:14:05
|
it may not always be so; and i say that if your lips, which i have loved, should touch another's, and your dear strong fingers clutch his heart, as mine in time not far away; if on another's face your sweet hair lay in such silence as i know, or such great writhing words as, uttering overmuch, stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;
if this should be, i say if this should be-- you of my heart, send me a little word; that i may go unto him, and take his hands, saying, Accept all happiness from me. Then shall i turn my face and hear one bird sing terribly afar in the lost lands
e e cummings
visit http://www.myspace.com/dukelang |
 |
|
|
buckman
Firefly
    
USA
2684 Posts |
Posted - 05/15/2006 : 18:34:46
|
I smelled the vanilla Before I felt her touch... She had come to me in The darkened room While I lay alone thinking Of a new poem... As Carmelita silently settled On top of me, she said Feels like home, eh, Preacher?
Another poem lost forever to a woman...
Rev Buckman
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
|
 |
|
|
Ailinn
Swinger
  
1440 Posts |
Posted - 05/15/2006 : 19:21:41
|
The climb will make your eyes throb. You will crave candles and whiskey, but in the dark you cannot see the shredded logs, the scat of orange berries, only glaciers drifting closer by inches, blue-white water scalloped like moth wings.
~Sandra Alcosser~ |
 |
|
|
Ailinn
Swinger
  
1440 Posts |
Posted - 05/15/2006 : 19:23:31
|
...he said, You cannot fly now. You are free.
~Mickey Newbury~ |
 |
|
|
Ailinn
Swinger
  
1440 Posts |
Posted - 05/15/2006 : 19:29:24
|
| ...then one day he rose from the table and went to stand in the kitchen door. The fields spread before him. An open hand. Four curved fingers of right-staked tomatoes. And to the left, the jutting, crooked thumb. His imprint on the land. |
 |
|
|
Ailinn
Swinger
  
1440 Posts |
Posted - 05/15/2006 : 19:32:41
|
| Conflagrant stars. Lights in the nighttime sky. Adam stands...and winces. Reaches for the tender place. The space where his rib used to be. Fates final destination. |
 |
|
|
Ailinn
Swinger
  
1440 Posts |
Posted - 05/16/2006 : 18:00:31
|
The Long Boat
Too tired even to choose between jumping and calling, somehow he felt absolved and free of his burdens, those mottoes stamped on his name-tag: conscience, ambition, and all that caring. He was content to lie down with the family ghosts in the slop of his cradle, buffeted by the storm, endlessly drifting. Peace! Peace! To be rocked by the Infinite! As if it didn't matter which way was home; as if he didn't know he loved the earth so much he wanted to stay forever.
~Stanley Kunitz~ July 19, 1905 ~ May 14, 2006 |
 |
|
|
buckman
Firefly
    
USA
2684 Posts |
Posted - 05/16/2006 : 18:26:52
|
As soon as I came home tonite I knew I was alone... The horse was gone... Carmelita had left nothing But the vanilla scent and a note... Preacher, we have gone to find Where you hid the moon, Don't wait up...
Pity, I so loved watching her leave...
Rev Buckman
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
|
 |
|
|
buckman
Firefly
    
USA
2684 Posts |
Posted - 05/17/2006 : 17:04:57
|
Leaving Backwards
Carmelita has left me so much You would think I would get used to it... All I have left of her this time Is the stain of her cup on the table... It's getting to the point that when I see her standing in my door I think that she is leaving me Walking backwards...
If you were me it would make sense...
REV BUCKMAN
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
|
 |
|
|
buckman
Firefly
    
USA
2684 Posts |
Posted - 05/17/2006 : 20:31:31
|
I have let it all fall away tonite... I have kicked away the table Once again and Let the cards fall where they may... If you want me, Either of you.... Come back....
Or YOU figure out how to live Without ME....
Rev Buckman
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
|
 |
|
|
buckman
Firefly
    
USA
2684 Posts |
|
|
Ailinn
Swinger
  
1440 Posts |
Posted - 05/19/2006 : 20:44:59
|
| It's late May and their watching Christmas movies at the Estrella de Mayo Hotel. The concierge's teeth are floating in a wine glass on the black granite counter. Slow Lava Lights at both ends. The calendar behind the registration desk reads 1981. There's peeling, white wicker rockers on the balconies. Lit-up ships cruising by. Waiters in shiny tuxedos and frayed cerise cummerbunds. An aquamarine pool. Voices floating up from under striped awnings. A runway taking the slow and fast planes in. Call 1-(800)Si Hotel. |
 |
|
|
Joey L.
Swinger
  
USA
1328 Posts |
Posted - 05/19/2006 : 22:09:36
|
Do I hear waifers of "Hotel Baja California" playing across la playa?
Oh la, de mission bells......
The Future's Not ... |
 |
|
|
buckman
Firefly
    
USA
2684 Posts |
Posted - 05/20/2006 : 08:07:32
|
This Morning Just after dawn I hear the horse out front... Back, but troubled... There's a note on the saddle Preacher, it says, I will be back There's some more things I need to learn And there's a whole lot more you Need to learn...
OK, so for the game today I'm batting .500,,,
I can live with that...
Rec Buckman
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
|
 |
|
|
Ailinn
Swinger
  
1440 Posts |
Posted - 05/24/2006 : 23:14:22
|
| When he speaks to her he changes her name. For decades. Her brazen face assails him. Her camoflage screen. |
 |
|
|
Ailinn
Swinger
  
1440 Posts |
Posted - 05/24/2006 : 23:19:37
|
| He is happy. He understands the curse and constraints of time. "All for tomatoes," he says laughing under ornamental stars. Cherry and Heirloom. La Beso de Roma's. Grape and Strawberry Shine. |
 |
|
|
Ailinn
Swinger
  
1440 Posts |
Posted - 05/25/2006 : 19:17:15
|
| The hills of Frankincensco poke holes in the pale, whitewashed sky. The streets are so steep they have stairs built into the sidewalks. The spectral fog rolls in faithfully at 8pm. The cold ocean roars below the harp-like star-spangled bridge. He walks across with Poseidon. His carved cane cupped under his warm palm tap-tapping. Lit ships slipping under his determined gaze. Deep stones turn and murmur in the Harbor. On the other side, a cloud of steam in the Coffee House window. His unmistakable silhouette. Waving. |
 |
|
|
Ailinn
Swinger
  
1440 Posts |
Posted - 05/26/2006 : 21:27:55
|
| The man lays his heart on the table. The woman puts the peppermill down. Light slips from the sideboard every evening just as supper is served. He pauses in the middle of his story. Lights the nightly candle. The trees step forward. Lean against the windows and listen. A curved story walking out of his hands. A circle. A votive flickering in his soot-smudged palm. |
 |
|
Topic  |
|
|