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Ailinn
Windchimer

1818 Posts

Posted - 12/28/2006 :  17:31:57  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
PS That's no mirage on the runway. Just a guy out on the tarmac pulling the jet in with sticks.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2703 Posts

Posted - 01/06/2007 :  19:02:13  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The scars on the inside
Shine even in the dark
And make his face look mean
So he hides it...

But he is known to be gentle
with the right one...

Rev Buckman

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

USA
2703 Posts

Posted - 01/07/2007 :  04:06:52  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I sit with her in the darkness
waiting for the one
that they say is looking for me...
I am more than armed;
gun in one pocket,
Bible in the other...
I can stand the silence no longer;
I take the Bible out
and lay
it on the table;
I take the gun out
and hand it to Melinda;
I take my jacket
and collar off and remove my hat...
I am ready...
To DANCE...
I pirouette around the room
as she watches, shaken, stunned at first at my insanity...
I collapse into my chair
Laughing like a madman...
When I feel the Spirit
in me like this,
I Must Fight or make mad,
passionate love,
or DANCE....

I sometimes favor one over the other,

but I LOVE to DANCE...

Rev B


http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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Grania
Rocker

108 Posts

Posted - 01/07/2007 :  15:51:59  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
We do not forget
The camp lit with torch light
The arcane tools
The sword
The salt-mist air
The heathered moor
The wisdom of the Sage
Burnt edges around his words
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1818 Posts

Posted - 01/07/2007 :  15:57:07  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
She has him on speed dial. The curator of the Love Museum. Great grace is his art. The chambers of his heart pumping salvation. The moon bright behind him. The tide rising on time. As when they left the heathered moor to cross the high, wide ocean. O, how souls shone around him! "What peril?" he asks, spinning the kaleidoscope wheel of memory. Slipping the oars in the oarlocks. Pulling the boat ashore. Knee-deep in green water again.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1818 Posts

Posted - 01/11/2007 :  18:52:06  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Chloe wasn't always a silver-plaited queen in a wheelchair. There was a time when she wore her hair loose down to the backs of her knees. And her hair was coal black like a crow's wing. Her shoes were pink satin with ribbons criss-crossing her ankles. Sometimes, when she stuffed those toes with soft lambs wool, she attached jingly bells to the pink. "Not in the best houses, mind you, but where the audience was, well... Less assuming. The ambiance...a little less refined." Chloe loves words. 'Ambiance' is one of her favorites. She uses words like spice. Like salt and pepper. A little cayenne here. A pinch of cumin or oregano. Now she dances with the widowers McKenna or Hartt. When she has "enough umphh to give a go 'round the room." The nurses and aids stare in awe at her grace. Her beautiful hands reaching towards enchantment. "Boneless wrists is how it should appear," she says. "Ballet is balance and weight as much as art. I had too much chest to be a prima."
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Craig
Firefly

Kyrgyzstan
3781 Posts

Posted - 01/11/2007 :  19:24:08  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
quote:
Originally posted by Ailinn

Chloe wasn't always a silver-plaited queen in a wheelchair. There was a time when she wore her hair loose down to the backs of her knees. And her hair was coal black like a crow's wing. Her shoes were pink satin with ribbons criss-crossing her ankles. Sometimes, when she stuffed those toes with soft lambs wool, she attached jingly bells to the pink. "Not in the best houses, mind you, but where the audience was, well... Less assuming. The ambiance...a little less refined." Chloe loves words. 'Ambiance' is one of her favorites. She uses words like spice. Like salt and pepper. A little cayenne here. A pinch of cumin or oregano. Now she dances with the widowers McKenna or Hartt. When she has "enough umphh to give a go 'round the room." The nurses and aids stare in awe at her grace. Her beautiful hands reaching towards enchantment. "Boneless wrists is how it should appear," she says. "Ballet is balance and weight as much as art. I had too much chest to be a prima."



Why you been gone so long!

Craig
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aussiedave
Swinger

Australia
506 Posts

Posted - 01/12/2007 :  04:58:16  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send aussiedave a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
'Not where I breathe,but where I love,I live'


Robert Southwell
[1561-1595]
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2703 Posts

Posted - 01/13/2007 :  12:15:51  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I sit in the dark, in the back of the saloon...
I watch, I sometimes learn,
But mostly I just grow grayer and older...
But,
I am done with Was..
I am done with Why...

There is only the Magic
And pain and joy of
What will now come to be...

Maybe I Have paid attention...

Rev Buckman


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

USA
2703 Posts

Posted - 01/13/2007 :  16:00:19  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
THE NEXT TO LAST WALTZ

I think it was the next to last slow dance
When she told me she'd fallen in love
After the day, after the way
She'd come to me from above

I think it was the start of the romance
When she put her mouth close to my ear
She said, For ever, only forever
I've waited for you to appear

We push and we strain, we run thru the rain
Trying to find the right one
There's no way to name it, no way to claim it
But getting there's half of the fun
I thought I was lost, forgotten the cost
That I'd had to pay for my faults
When I turned in the fight, turned out the light
I was surprised by the next to last waltz.....

La da da, da da da, la da da dee
La da da, da da da, la da da doo
La da da, da da da, la da da day
La da da, da da da, la doo....

I think it was the next to last slow dance
When she told me she'd fallen in love
After the day, after the way
She'd come to me from above

I think it was the start of the romance
When she put her mouth close to my ear
She said, For ever, only forever
I've waited for you to appear

We push and we strain, we run thru the rain
Trying to find the right one
There's no way to name it, no way to claim it
But getting there's half of the fun
I thought I was lost, forgotten the cost
That I'd had to pay for my faults
When I turned in the fight, turned out the light
I was surprised by the next to last waltz.....

La da da, da da da, la da da dee
La da da, da da da, la da da doo
La da da, da da da, la da da day
La da da, da da da, la doo....


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

Kyrgyzstan
3781 Posts

Posted - 01/14/2007 :  17:39:22  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Today...

A walk in the old town, cold rain.
Gristmill, by the rain swollen river.
Hot coffee, to warm my bones.
Lone bison, king of the mountaintop.
Convict behind a fence, far from home.

Still, a cold rain.

Not the Wild West...that was last night.

Craig
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1818 Posts

Posted - 01/14/2007 :  20:29:19  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
She's down on her knees in the spangled Cathedral. All that flat, angled light on the penitent floor. A small awe floating in striped dust motes past gilt-crowned statues. A mute dream at the filigreed sacristy door. Walls falling when he nods gravely in the archive library. The frayed ribon from The Book of Days marking his place. Here's the stained glass landscape off ethereal Mulholland. The mountains of metropolis remaining untamed. Arcane Eden. Banshees in the canyons. The cave, low and smoky. The Grail still buried under the dirt-trodden floor.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1818 Posts

Posted - 01/14/2007 :  20:33:46  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"First star. Right there," he says, pointing. They're standing on the fault line looking up at the sky. A lizard skitters across the sandstone. Squirrels chatter in the trumpet vine. The cliff blues with tall shadows. The night stretches its scarred wing. O, nicked finger. O, heart full of vows.
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aussiedave
Swinger

Australia
506 Posts

Posted - 01/15/2007 :  22:54:24  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send aussiedave a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Angel wings,beating my face,
forcing me into grace.

Dear eyes,loving my soul,
drawing me to the goal.

Strong Word,piercing my brain,
bringing me holy shame.

Pain's cry,welling within,
lifting me out of sin.

Red hands,clotted with blood,
thrusting me up to God.



G Bingham
Changi POW Camp
1943
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5432 Posts

Posted - 01/16/2007 :  23:39:37  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
DESCENT

In her culture they weep more at birth than death,
tears for the one who's been asked to return.
A generous sadness regarding the welcome this world offers,
the descent into suffering. Weep, then.

Yet, by kindness of spirit, she brushes aside the tears,
goes about making happiness as one would make a fire.
Winter is only a visitor, she says, one who, when he goes,
leaves so many flowers behind.

DL



http://www.myspace.com/mickeynewbury
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San Diego
Rocker

471 Posts

Posted - 01/18/2007 :  16:57:20  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
We're back from a job in the Santa Monica mountains. Meet at a street called Careful Avenue off windy "gusts up to 50" Mulholland. Red flag warnings. Snow in Malibu.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1818 Posts

Posted - 01/18/2007 :  17:25:17  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
24 Frames Per Second

~for 4459

Leitmotif of hard stars when dark slides under the teapot lid. Mail waiting on the entry hall table. Travel brochures offering escape. Palm trees and turquois water. She has palm trees and turquois water at her hand-hewn door. And trumpet vine like five tied white handkerchiefs spilling out of the cliffs to the sugar beach below. Have I mentioned her mysterious past? From the start she was haunted. Demons always ganging up to bring her to her knees. She prayed for more faith and less imagination. More moderate Monday minutes to practice virtue. Less photogenic appeal. The old life at the High Tide Cafe when he was her anchor and her soul. So much smoke disappearing through a keyhole. The tabloids made a big deal of the fall until some high vested homeowners complained. Blocked driveways and disgarded film canisters littering their narrow lanes. "God, it's tough trying to make a living here," sang the valet parkers in a chorus, counting the days until their SAG cards arrived. A titled landscape in the wilderness above LA. The city's wild heart of fairy tale trails above the wintry Pacific. Smooth moon-shadowed stones washed downstream by the rains. Crumbs carried away by voracious raptors. The balconies cryptic histories. The detailed betrayals. The derailed decisions. The race to rescue his name. Another grief to get over the mountain of damage that remained. She remembers reading the other story. Glasses sliding down both of their noses. His look was perfect timing. Hers was awe.
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aussiedave
Swinger

Australia
506 Posts

Posted - 01/20/2007 :  01:43:18  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send aussiedave a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
'I guess I just don't know how to articulate what I feel'

I said

I suddenly saw that love is behind everything.
......a man was going through psychiatric treatment, and he had gone
down in to a number of terrible abysses.His experiences were frightening, especially under drug treatments, and yet he finally wrote,

"There is no such thing in life as a bottomless abyss. At the bottom
of all abysses are the arms. Underneath all conceivable human experiences are the everlasting arms. The whole point is--in what universe do we live? One that is undergirded at all points by love, or not? Underneath all conceivable human experiences are the Everlasting Arms. Fall as far as you will, you cannot fall out of those Arms, only into them"

page 84 "Where I Love I Live"

G.Bingham
1977
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5432 Posts

Posted - 01/20/2007 :  02:31:18  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I will meet you there.”

Rumi


http://www.myspace.com/mickeynewbury
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1818 Posts

Posted - 01/20/2007 :  17:08:37  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I believe...
that imagination
is stronger than knowledge
That myth
is more potent than history
That dreams
are more powerful than facts
That hope
always triumphs over experience
That laughter
is the only cure for grief
And I believe that love
is stronger than death

~Mickey Newbury~

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