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Ailinn
Swinger
1444 Posts |
 Posted - 06/19/2006 : 22:11:09
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| The ship went down in 1872. They explored the deep for a hundred years. Their dream stayed ahead of their breathing. "Back to Durrow," one day, he says. Her skirts are long. Red mud at the edges. Her high-buttoned shoes are water-logged. |
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Doug L
Firefly
Canada
5390 Posts |
Posted - 06/21/2006 : 03:49:45
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MAGIC NIGHTS IN THE LOBBY BAR
A feast, this song, and with the magic in it.
John Spillane and Louis de Paor perform it live at
www.myspace.com/johnspillane in a tour de force
of the gentlest variety. Oh, and I just heard
Ger Wolfe tonight, too, for the first time...
and with my ancestral great grandma from Cork it's
all the more transporting...away, away in the air.
They were magic nights in the Lobby Bar
With Brendan Ring playing Madame Bonaparte's
Every note that the piper would play
Would send me away, send me away
Away through the window, away through the rain
Away 'cross the city, away in the air
To a field by a river where the trees are so green
The deepest of green that you've ever seen
Where once you have been you can go back again
You can go any time, you can go any time
'Cause it's only in your mind...
They were magic nights in the Lobby Bar
With Ricky Lynch and his golden guitar singing
"Autumn in Mayfield and the barley was ripe
And the harvest moon hung low in the sky
We were children and our mothers were young
And fathers tall and kind"
And every note that Ricky would play
Would send me away, send me away
Away through the window, away through the rain
Away 'cross the city, away in the air
To a field by a river where the trees are so green
The deepest of green that you've ever seen
Where once you have been you can go back again
You can go any time, you can go any time
'Cause it's only in your mind
They were magic nights in the Lobby Bar
When Ger Wolfe would sing like a lark, singing
"I am the blood of Erin, spilt in an empty cave
I am the flower of Ireland, out on the drifting wave
I am the lark of Mayfield, tumbling down the hill
I am the child of summer, I can remember you still"
And every word that Ger would say
Would send me away, send me away
Away through the window, away through the rain
On a carriage of music, away in the air
To a field by a river where the trees are so green
The deepest of green that you've ever seen
Where once you have been you can go back again
You can go any time, you can go any time
'Cause it's only in your mind...
"It was autumn in Mayfield and the barley was ripe
And the harvest moon hung low in the sky
We were children and our mothers were young
And fathers were tall and kind..."
John Spillane, County Cork
http://www.myspace.com/mickeynewbury |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1444 Posts |
Posted - 06/22/2006 : 19:12:17
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| The ship lies safely anchored. Finally. Rocking like a cradle. Now he's on land. His footsteps coming down in the bibical dust. A frieze of conflagrant flames rising up behind him where she's waiting. Patiently. Beside Fate. Beside sparks in the tamarisk grove. He hands her the list. Charred and unfinished. Corners curling like her cinder-singed soul. "Take your sunglasses off," he says. |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1444 Posts |
Posted - 06/23/2006 : 21:00:10
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| At his insistence, she was apprenticed to The Magician when Durrow was cold. 600 years AD. Give or take an ornamental evening or two. Dim stars only he could see. An Ocean. Steadfast history. His gaze so grave. Her smile so brazen and free through centuries. The dust of past lives holding them in thrall. |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1444 Posts |
Posted - 06/27/2006 : 19:35:46
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| Yeah, they moved me over to the big house. I tol' them, "NO!" But my word don' mean nothin' now that I'm 83. They claim I'm loosin' it. Ha! What a crock! I'm still sharp as a tack! But they can charge more on this side of the "Lake". Phony, for sure. Man-made. An' mostly stagnant. My rooms are smaller too. An' my TV's a DVD I can't work. "Chloe, you jus' gotta learn to adjus'," Katrina, my caretaker says. "Ya know, with a name like 'Katrina', I'd be lyin' low," I say. |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1444 Posts |
Posted - 06/29/2006 : 21:16:26
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| He makes the cut. He blends the blood. An owl blinks in the eucalyptus. Quails stir and murmur in the tumbleweed. Forgotten history rises. Around them The Garden shivers. A pinch of kindling. A sip of broth. A few sprigs of braided lavender on the pillow. |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1444 Posts |
Posted - 07/06/2006 : 18:12:53
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| "'Tis sure you're not from Missouri, now?" she said a thousand times. His answer was always the same. "Hahaha." "It takes years," he said, once upon a time. His footsteps echoing down the long hallway and the tiles, spiral staircase his boots rushed up and down. O, the balcony's cryptic history. The lantern's low, yellow glow. Centuries passed. They grew wiser. But not very. Across the courtyard he whispered. His words drifting over the consecrated ground where she stood on the fault line listening. |
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booty
Sitter
USA
93 Posts |
Posted - 07/06/2006 : 23:34:01
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Limbo
From the pain of nature I cry
And from nature’s good fortune I laugh
I laugh at those attitudinal mocking the original
Unaware they are the progeny of a native soul
Tears are the wife of laughter and she cries unknowingly
At the fullness of her affection – to see where there is tears
And no laughter turns a husband wayward, while to conjugate
Begets the appreciation of life
I laugh and cry but not in vain,
For from one ground arises the beauty of humanity
The humanities ridiculed by brachycephalics
As if they sprang up without roots
Creation bears both dark and light, ignorance and
Wisdom, with the first preceding the latter.
The onesame grounded me with both hands, the
Left and the right – where lays the ineffable Blue and Gray
Where in their crimson inscribtion I see
The son of man’s blood only bears one truth.
And so it be I will labor in limbo imaging beauty
Somewhere between the darkness and the light
And naught long – for is it not O Meistergeiger?
The truth is, I would be first a man.
boots
Robert Knowles |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2685 Posts |
Posted - 07/07/2006 : 14:42:27
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It's not that I don't
Try
To have faith...
I do try
I really do
It's just that when I
Try
To believe
Or pray
I feel like a
Japanese maiden about
To be sacrificed to the
Fiery volcano
Asking for a ricepaper fan...
REV BUCKMAN
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2685 Posts |
Posted - 07/07/2006 : 14:43:53
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I am laying in my back yard
High as a kite on a
Sunday afternoon...
Between the green and
The blue I feel like
The meat in an
Earth sky sandwich...
Befuddled comments
From my past lives swirl
Entertaining squirrels,
Filling the air with electricity;
A curse from Carmelita
A moan from Martina...
I yell
MORE
MORE
MORE
I lay back and
Wait for an answer...
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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Doug L
Firefly
Canada
5390 Posts |
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booty
Sitter
USA
93 Posts |
Posted - 07/07/2006 : 18:03:11
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went to a little coffee shop here in Lebanon the other night and a lady suggested the 10 of us there to name a word and then each one write a poem in 15 minutes using those 10 words.
the words were; cool, boy, day, carte, flight, swift, bird, death, song, and free......here's what i wrote...kinda befuddled.
As a bird swifty moves in its flight
And fills the day with song
Carte blanche
How cool I thought as a young boy
Its sings so free
And nev'r sounds -- the tune of death.
boots
Robert Knowles |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2685 Posts |
Posted - 07/07/2006 : 18:19:02
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I waned poetic as
The moon waxed...
Renegade wisdom lost in the sauce
Of underachievement...
Wanting to dance naked in the back yard...
Luckily at that moment
The record skipped and I
Attended to it and settled down...
The neighbors must have been praying again...
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2685 Posts |
Posted - 07/07/2006 : 18:23:41
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I still don't know what
I want to be
When I grow up...
But, at least
I have had some
Experience in the
Things I Don't
Want to be...
Batting .500 halfway thru...
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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Grania
Rocker
102 Posts |
Posted - 07/07/2006 : 21:52:01
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| Blessings to you, Reverend. I see your July dance card is full. August, then, perhaps. A waltz. |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1444 Posts |
Posted - 07/07/2006 : 22:05:19
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| See the acrobatic birds flush the air. Their blissful ascension to the tops of the trees where they loop spontaneously. Heart-shaped sometimes. Over and over. A performance for the Chimney Watch. The raven. Here every night. Steadfast. Lonely. Mesmerizing doves in the palm trees. Mice in the ivy. Small feasts at the Ocean Angel Cafe. No knives in the silverware drawer. No sharp edges. "Don't cry," he says, and shields their eyes against her serious weeping. |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2685 Posts |
Posted - 07/08/2006 : 20:33:45
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Small flashes of life
interspersed between long periods of
just breathing make up our days...
As time goes on, as we grow older and older,
the flashes move together in our memories
like one long tapestry, all as one piece...
We learn, we prepare, we nourish ourselves
for and from these flashes...
Everything else is just breathing...
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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booty
Sitter
USA
93 Posts |
Posted - 07/11/2006 : 14:32:44
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UNTHOUGHTFUL
on the plane of responsiveness to a few i am of oblivion
and long estranged from them I have been
so unmindful I conceive not a beautiful creation
choosing to think it not, only to be forgotten
yet would it be i that creates aimless disillusionment
leaving the lovely of creation an abandonment of sort
‘lest consciousness be the endeavor of my advent
and acquaint the humanities – with eternities work
of liberal art.
~ boots ~
Robert Knowles |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2685 Posts |
Posted - 07/13/2006 : 18:27:01
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O the mind, mind has mountains; cliffs of fall
Frightful, sheer, no-man-fathomed.
Hold them cheap may who ne'er hung there.
I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day.
And I have asked to be
Where no storms come...
Gerard Manley Hopkins |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2685 Posts |
Posted - 07/14/2006 : 19:00:32
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Someone to hold you too close
Someone to hurt you too deep
Someone to sit in your chair
And ruin your sleep
And make you aware of being alive
Someone to need you too much
Someone to know you too well
Someone to pull you up short
And put you through hell
And give you support for being alive-being alive
Make me alive, make me confused
Mock me with praise, let me be used
Vary my days, but alone is alone, not alive!
Somebody hold me too close
Somebody force me to care
Somebody make me come through
Ill always be there
As frightened as you of being alive,
Being alive, being alive!
Someone you have to let in
Someone whose feelings you spare
Someone who, like it or not
Will want you to share a little, a lot of being alive
Make me alive, make me confused
Mock me with praise, let me be used
Vary my days, but alone is alone, not alive!
Somebody crowd me with love
Somebody force me to care
Somebody make me come through
Ill always be there
As frightened as you to help us survive,
Being alive, being alive, being alive, being alive
From "Company"
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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The Nightly Vigil