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Grania
Rocker

105 Posts

Posted - 12/13/2006 :  19:07:34  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Reverend B~
Peace and blessings.
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Craig
Firefly

Kyrgyzstan
3744 Posts

Posted - 12/13/2006 :  19:22:38  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The Nightly Vigil...

Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness; So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another, only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.

~ Longfellow
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1613 Posts

Posted - 12/14/2006 :  18:37:44  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He gave me a bisquit, which I put in my pocket, and not daring to eat it, buried it under a log, fearing he had put something in it to make me love him.

~from the narrative of Mary Rowlandson taken prisoner by the Wampanoag in 1676.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 12/15/2006 :  19:11:31  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I wish the sunlight finds you
At your best and with good friends
I wish the sunlight finds you
On a road that never bends...

I wish the moonlight finds you
When it's too dark to see your trail
I wish the moonlight finds you
With the wind still in your sail...

The rainbows and the gold are always there
Sometimes they just don't catch our eye
The trials and the storms must come first
I guess I've always wondered why...

I wish the sunlight finds you
Full of hope and full of cheer
I wish the sunlight finds you
With someone you hold dear...

I wish the moonlight finds you
On the road that leads you home
I wish the moonlight finds you
When your heart ceases to roam...

The rainbows and the gold were always there
Sometimes they just didn't catch our eye
The trials and the storms must come first
They're what teach us to try...

I wish the sunlight finds you...

Hank Beukema -2006

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

1613 Posts

Posted - 12/17/2006 :  13:14:08  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
We're back from Ensenada with two trucks full of Mexican angels. For the neighborhood Christmas party at Moonlight beach tonight. Pierced tin and papier mache. A life-size group of three in glitter-sprayed chicken wire and bits of chipped mirror. A "tourist" angel made of decoupage postcards and matchbook covers with gold graduation tassels for hair. Off Revolution in Tijuana we found a family fashioned from twisted coat hangers and fanned peacock feathers for wings. "Anything to declare?" the Border Patrol guy asked Mirella. I was behind her at the Check-Point and my heart sank when he waved her over to Secondary. "What did you tell him?" I asked her. "You don't wanna mess with these passengers 'cause they got more authority than you!" she said. "Out of the truck," officer Jesus Escobeda said. So we got to sit with our novelty halos and sunglasses on on the concrete barricade cooling our heels for half an hour. Mirella shrugged, "do we look like smugglers?" she asked me. "Of course we do!" I said, and started on my litany of "what ifs". "Hahaha," Mirella said, "it's your paranoid nature to look too much into things."
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1613 Posts

Posted - 12/17/2006 :  13:20:40  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
They are waiting for a break in the weather. He consults the Almanac every day. Trees move outside their window. Back-and-forth. To-and-fro. The sea's unanswered question at the edge of the shore where before they put the boat out on the water. The fine, small boat. Hand-made by the carpenter who was their final neighbor. She sets the table. Warms the white cups. Arranges the old, folded headlines where his eyes and elbows will follow. His shadow crosses the floor. His Sunday morning eyes. He places the pages before her. Half blank. Half filled with notes for the long, uninterrupted journey.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1613 Posts

Posted - 12/17/2006 :  20:45:58  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Cold on the Mountain. Cold on the beach.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1613 Posts

Posted - 12/17/2006 :  21:06:30  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
...Let us go back...2000 years. From the middle east...one Tribe. From northern Europe, another. They meet in what is now known as British Isles. They bring with them their music. It is the story of their people. It is the song of their Heros. It is a gift from their God. They conquer other tribes as they move across the land, all the while adding to their "BAND" new and exciting instruments. NEW SONGS. At some point they become one peoople with a (somewhat) common language. They leave Europe at some disputed time in the past and come to these shores. Many years later it is discovered that the purest English spoken on the planet is spoken in the Appalachian Mountain range. Why?... Because of their isolation. What is their song? Where did it come from?

~Mickey Newbury~
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 12/19/2006 :  14:44:31  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
In Which Johnny Depp and The Polar Bear Look For Neverland


When Ralph [[the Hudson River Polar Bear]] first met Johnny Depp, I thought, at first, he might faint... We were sitting in the back yard of the old Helen Hayes house in Nyack, with the broad expanse of green leading all the way down to the river.... Johnny said he had loved this place since he first saw it when Rosie O'Donnell owned it.... Said it was twenty miles from New York City, yet he could almost believe he was in the south of France, if there was a nip of Jameson's in his coffee... Ralph couldn't stop looking at him... [[Rev, he talks to me like I'm real, like you do... ]] It's the magic, Ralphie, the magic, me boyo, that let's, um, no...... Allows some of us to grow older, but never to grow up...... quite.... That's how that little boy from 21 Jump Street could become the boy in Bennie and Joon and What's Eating Gilbert Grape.... How he became Duke in Fear and Loathing and the guy in Blow and The Ninth Gate and how he played Johnny Depp playing Keith Richard[[s]] playing Captain Jack Sparrow to the hilt in Pirates of the Caribbean..... And how that little boy never grew up to play J M Barrie in Finding Neverland... [[Soooo much magic, Rev, it makes me cry...]] Oh, you big Mr Softee, come here and lay down on the grass before you get me started; Johnny's okay, he's talking to Hank, he'll bore him to tears in moments....
It occurs to me at this time of year, that there is a peculiar selectivity in our society when it comes to suspending disbelief... As children we're encouraged, no, sometimes even forced to believe in that fat old man flying reindeer and slipping down chimneys and doing the whole world in one night. After awhile, most children and many adults, seem to come to believe in this character as a part of their lives, past, present, and future, and there is really nothing wrong with that.... However, when it comes to suspending their disbelief in order to picture the Prince of Heaven coming to our land to establish a Kingdom on Earth, being born of a woman, becoming flesh and blood and giving his life to save ours, well, there seems to be a big problem.... In part, Knucklehead, it's just simple boredom: Jingle Bells is more Fun than O Holy Night; the elves are more Fun than the Angels...... Well,think about it buddyboy... There is no more Pure Fun than to have a spirit that can be in all places at once, that is faster than a locomotive and more powerful than a speeding bullet, living with you day to day as your buddy and pal like you and me; a spirit that is there for you when the chips are down and the taxman is knockin at your door... Just try to remember that when you're out there at the mall, or watching the Alabama Christmas Special for the fifth time.... That it's all really about Suspending Disbelief and experiencing the wonderful surprise of joy that happens when that spirit slips down your chimney and rents a room in your heart............. [[So, then, it's like Peter Pan? Like when you saw it when you were a kid and you thought you could fly if you really believed and you broke your leg jumping off of that balcony?]] Yeah, Ralphie, that's it, just like Pan and TinkerBelle and Hook and Smee and that Croc-with-the-clock.... Sorry, babyboy, i got preachy there for a minute...... C'mon, let's go talk to Johnny, maybe some of that magic will have rubbed off on the Hankster.... [[C'mon, it's Hank, Rev.......He'd have to have rubbed him alot.... ]]

" Peter Llewelyn Davies: It's just, I thought she'd always be here.
J.M. Barrie: So did I. But in fact, she is, because she's on every page of your imagination. You'll always have her there. Always.
Peter Llewelyn Davies: But why did she have to die?
J.M. Barrie: I don't know, boy. When I think of your mother, I will always remember how happy she looked sitting there in the parlor watching a play about her family, about her boys that never grew up. She went to Neverland and you can visit her any time you like if you just go there yourself.
Peter Llewelyn Davies: How?
J.M. Barrie: By believing, Peter. Just believe....."
[From Finding Neverland]

"Faith is when you get to the end of all the light you can see and are about to step into darkness.... Faith is knowing that the next step will give you something solid to stand on.... or you will learn to fly...." [Paraphrase ]

Rev Buckman




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

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 12/19/2006 :  20:11:41  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Melinda please forgive me
For running you away
I guess your face will haunt me
For the rest of my todays

Melinda don't forget me
Or the dreams that ran aground
It didn't take until you left
To know what I had found

Baby you are evrything
I've always wanted in a friend
It seems that I'm a drifter
There's nothing to defend
I hope that you'll remember
The good I made you feel
I hope that you'll forget
The mistakes that never heal

Melinda please forgive me
For running you away
I was just too full of myself
To get thru one last day

Melinda don't forget me
Or the dreams that ran aground
I'll spend a long long time
Regretting what I'd found

Baby you are evrything
I've always wanted in a friend
It seems that I'm a drifter
There's nothing to defend
I hope that you'll remember
The good I made you feel
I hope that you'll forget
The mistakes that never heal

Hank Beukema 2006




http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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aussiedave
Swinger

Australia
506 Posts

Posted - 12/20/2006 :  01:34:30  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send aussiedave a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"the mistakes that never heal"

oh how I wish I had penned this line.




"in love is an expensive place to die"

John Laws penned this one.




"true love knows no comparisons"

thats my contribution.

AD



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aussiedave
Swinger

Australia
506 Posts

Posted - 12/21/2006 :  04:13:51  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send aussiedave a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
SO..........send in the clowns..........
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 12/21/2006 :  19:03:09  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
My lover's eyes were tired that Sunday morning heading South...

Tired of disappointment
Tired of meanness, madness,
Melancholy, mayhem
Surprised like so many others
By a whiskey monster
That crept into her bed after midnight
Looking like someone she knew but couldn't place
Couldn't quite come into focus as familiar
Causing damage that wouldn't /couldn't be fixed with words
Too late for more mere useless apologies

My lover's eyes were tired that Sunday morning heading South

Tired and glazed with loss
Moving away in disarray, emptiness
Inexplicable insanity
That had assaulted the senses and body
Tired of ruined dreams, killed feelings
Trading the sounds of the morning the day before
Waking up to love
For highway sounds and tire whine
Anger hurt rage even embarrassment
Or self recrimination that she had fallen
For someone that could turn so ugly
So quickly...

My lover's eyes were tired that Sunday morning heading South.....


Hank Beukema


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

1613 Posts

Posted - 12/21/2006 :  20:15:14  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
When you turn your palms skyward
With your wrists pinned to the ground
To the sand and the gravel
To the pommeled trail
The air full of knives
The fog climbing
The tide rising inside your chest
Don't lower your eyes
See the whole story
Paradise nodding
And your head too heavy to rise

PS Reverend B~ Today is the shortest day. This Sunday brings three more minutes of sunshine.
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Becka
Sitter

95 Posts

Posted - 12/22/2006 :  10:29:11  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Ailinn............
yeah for the sunshine!!! Thanks for reminding us.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1613 Posts

Posted - 12/22/2006 :  18:34:26  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Hello, Becka. I think you're the Lady who can tackle this deal. Keep your eyes in the sky...and keep dancin'. Love to you and the Rev.
Roisin
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1613 Posts

Posted - 12/22/2006 :  18:50:27  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The biggest department store in town. A block long on Main Street. Six windows of Christmastime magic. A moonlit village with steepled churches. Smoke rising from red brick chimney tops in plump donut halos. A Hans Brinker skating pond edged with sleds. Santa's workshop. Reindeers and Lionel locomotives. Elves in buckled boots and tiny leather aprons. Mouths full of shiny nails. Mrs. Claus's Olde Time Bakery Shoppe. Gingerbread men running out of the ovens under clouds of sugar-spun steam. Candy cane smocks and striped stockings. Pointy-toed shoes and holly hats with bells. A big calendar hanging crooked to count down the days. Kids with their noses pressed up against the glass sucking their hair into icicles. And just over there...by the streetlamp leaning... Under snowflakes gently falling...POe.

Merry Christmas to the Porch. God's blessing, and peace and love to all.
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aussiedave
Swinger

Australia
506 Posts

Posted - 12/23/2006 :  01:06:45  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send aussiedave a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
POe dear POe

he was one in ten million
he was one in ten times ten times ten million

he was one time one ain't two
you two time timing you
who do you think you're foolin'
your heels need some coolin'
girl i've got a good mind
just to blow you out of my mind

take a forty-four pistol to me
put one in my brain for her memory
one for my heart
and then i'll be free

the road down to gnashville's
like crystal and stone

oh little girl little girl
what have i done that has made you treat
me so
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1613 Posts

Posted - 12/23/2006 :  17:31:09  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"he was one in ten times ten times ten million"

Merry Christmas, AD.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 12/23/2006 :  17:51:30  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Happy Christmas to the Nightly Vigil crowd, my second family for a few years now... As Guy Clark says, it's Stuff that works, the kind of stuff you reach for when you fall... Evry time I fall, I come back here to get recharged.... A special group, thats for sure, with Craig and David singin more and more and others chimin in for harmony... There is a special place in heaven for you, Ailinn, for having to endure sharing this space with the three of us fruitcakes.... Happy Christmas [War is Over] [J Lennon]

Hank/Rev/Ralph


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