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Ailinn
Windchimer

1766 Posts

Posted - 03/01/2007 :  19:03:20  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
This is where they meet. In the middle of the night. At the edge of the cameo-lit tamarisk grove. The true latitude and longitude necessary for gravity to keep them spinning in place. A small space. No wider than an eyelash. Now he's asleep on his heart side. The plane of his cheek resting against her right shoulder. He's dreaming the water story. She's heard it before. Small afternoons in an uncertain season. Awake and asleep. Through centuries of banked fires. His glass-like language. His clear, unfettered pane. His blood on the sheets. Not hers.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1766 Posts

Posted - 03/02/2007 :  18:14:10  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
When the stars go high he arrives to console her. Lifts the lid on the ancient chest with its fierce Celtic symbols. Hands her the warring scrolls, his bow and his quiver. His tempered sword. His burnished suit of mail. She's down on her knees in the dust of the ages. Her porcelain palms pressed together again.
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Craig
Firefly

Kyrgyzstan
3770 Posts

Posted - 03/03/2007 :  20:50:47  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Bright crisp, windless morning...a rarity in this country of constant rain. A brilliant, white cloud forms between the snowcapped Argyll mountains. It slowly moves towards the Clyde as it flattens...blanketing Holy Loch as it lazily floats slowly westward out to sea.

craig
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Craig
Firefly

Kyrgyzstan
3770 Posts

Posted - 03/03/2007 :  21:26:33  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
A simple stone
placed on her marker.
"I was here",
it silently exclaimed.

craig
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2702 Posts

Posted - 03/06/2007 :  19:00:45  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Melinda woke me up, somehow
She brought me out of the back of the saloon|
Out into the streets again...

And then she left...

What a wonder is a woman for a man's soul...

Rev Buckman



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

USA
2702 Posts

Posted - 03/07/2007 :  18:11:08  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I think that I lived on the edge
Of oblivion and heartache
For so long
That I wasn't fit for
Human consumption...

Pity, I still love the edge...

Rev Buckman


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

USA
2702 Posts

Posted - 03/08/2007 :  18:32:51  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I yelled out into the the yard that
Supper was done
For the third nite in a row
With no answer from Melinda....

Do ya think I should give it up and just eat?

Rev Buckman


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

USA
2702 Posts

Posted - 03/08/2007 :  21:36:40  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I was fixin a railing,,,


Moonbean rode on in with Melinda

There was a quiet moment...

She said , Can we play cards?

I said, Are you gonna cheat>

She said, Probly not....

I said, Sit down and try not to talk too much...

Rev Buckman


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

USA
2702 Posts

Posted - 03/10/2007 :  07:54:05  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
HORSE'S MOON SUITE

[I think I may go away for awhile.... again, maybe not... Either way,I would like to leave something up that I am proud of... there is an audio of this at : www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema ]

Horse's Moon

At twilight
We rode away from the setting sun
Directly into the full moon...
I could see the reflection of
My horse's face in it and
Saw the shadow of sadness
That she had come to realize
I could never love her completely...

It never affected her work...



Horse Left

My horse has left me
As I knew she would
Because I did not love her enough
Which is why I did not love her enough
Which is why she left

I am left with just me and
My two legs

It may be enough for other men
But not for me...



Secrets


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?

Carmelita Returns


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...


Vanilla Touch

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...



Alone Again, Naturally


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...

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...


Kick the Table Over

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/
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1766 Posts

Posted - 03/10/2007 :  18:06:38  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
44 Calle Ceilo Azul. Enter through the jasmine-framed archway. An ornate verdigris gate. An open door. Many pictures down the sun-washed corridors. Coyote footprints crossing the Saltillo tile floor. A long market list on the refrigerator. A tray of glass beads that match his eyes cooling on the kitchen counter.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1766 Posts

Posted - 03/11/2007 :  18:57:54  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Robber's landlady lives with her two dead husbands resting on the carved mahogany coffee table. "...and she keeps cats..." Robber says, passing the chips and tomato-flecked guacamole, "...that's why she has to have them weighted down. Like little Oscars, but tippy." Each urn has its own golden plate. With dates and pertinent sentimentalities. The Claddagh symbol on Dillon's. Lord of Riccochet Alley ~ California 74 on Martin Lord's. "He built that road, ya know," says Robber Barron. Sunrise Retirement Home's newest employee...and self-appointed local historian.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1766 Posts

Posted - 03/11/2007 :  19:01:16  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
His pent-up energy. His brooding, dark fuel. An ocean around them. And the resinous trees. In ancient Inis Fail... His Ark still out there. Sailing.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2702 Posts

Posted - 03/12/2007 :  15:45:49  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Melinda's beauty haunts me. Newbury's shouting, standing on his rock in the ocean.Lang and McNeely and Polk writing songs that wanted to be mine but never were. She's waiting for me, somewhere....Oh, she's waiting for me on that windy beach with the red hair like in that Waterhouse painting...

Dreams and horror.....

Over and over...

Dreams and horror...

Rev Buckman

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

1766 Posts

Posted - 03/12/2007 :  18:38:06  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
First there were the bits of suet and crumbled pemmican. She certainly knew what I found tasty. At sunrise and last light I'd watch her standing there. All longing. A chimney perch across the street provided my birds eye view. I saw him too. Teaching her how to read Braille. One hand resting lightly on hers. The other across her mouth when she was moved to weeping. How the saints sobbed into their white handkerchiefs when he turned a deaf ear to their tears. He had something else in mind. Breakfast set before him at 7am. Supper when the adobe walls flushed with roseate light. Something for me in the yard before the night dew prospered.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1766 Posts

Posted - 03/14/2007 :  20:54:13  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Back on Mulholland the wind is blowing the patio furniture around the yard. "I've had wings before," she says. She's anchoring the awkward easel. Watching the red sun sink into the pewter-cast Pacific Ocean. "I had stockings on," she says, "proper as anyone else. He was waiting for me to get off the train he had the track and the time for. When the conductor handed me over, he kissed my hand.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2702 Posts

Posted - 03/16/2007 :  23:36:33  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Poem: "Come Gather Round Me, Parnellites" by William Butler Yeats, from Selected Poems and Four Plays of William Butler Yeats. Scribner Paperback Poetry.

Come Gather Round Me, Parnellites

Come gather round me, Parnellites,
And praise our chosen man,
Stand upright on your legs awhile,
Stand upright while you can,
For soon we lie where he is laid
And he is underground;
Come fill up all those glasses
And pass the bottle round.

And here's a cogent reason
And I have many more,
He fought the might of Ireland
And saved the Irish poor,
Whatever good a farmer's got
He brought it all to pass;
And here's another reason,
That Parnell loved a lass.

And here's a final reason,
He was of such a kind
Every man that sings a song
Keeps Parnell in his mind
For Parnell was a proud man,
No prouder trod the ground,
And a proud man's a lovely man
So pass the bottle round.

The Bishops and the Party
That tragic story made,
A husband that had sold his wife
And after that betrayed;
But stories that live longest
Are sung above the glass,
And Parnell loved his country
And Parnell loved his lass.


FOR ROR AND SAN DIEGO AND GRANIA AND MICK AND ILLIANCE

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

USA
2702 Posts

Posted - 03/17/2007 :  02:50:30  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I believe I may have told Melinda
I would love her forever
I believe I may have told her I could stand
Almost anything and would wait for her...

I believe I may have been wrong...

Rev B
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1766 Posts

Posted - 03/17/2007 :  16:46:58  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
You've heard the story before. More bandages unspooling. More blood on the floor. He can't stay away. The ancient trunk with its Celtic allure. Finally open. Love's missives and chain mail. Salt curing the finials of their olde iron bed. An ocean away the victorious sighing under stone markers.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1766 Posts

Posted - 03/17/2007 :  17:01:57  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He loved her strange, twin soul, he said. Her lust for Durrow's gold. Which was not an ore at all, but cold memory. So his mouth of invention invented the stone cottage, the banked fire, the crusty loaf. The scones with their fistful of currents. The kettle of savory stew. When the wee folk of Tuatha De Danann appeared with their empty pots and leather satchels he stoked the fire and welcomed them in. There they sat and sipped a bit and told their faerie stories. And with the passing of warm hours...grew gently drowsy. Then he stirred her from her reverie and led her to the pallet where they fell into a dream of sage and juniper berries. In the morning when the dawn broke wan behind a rainy curtain they were alone in the stone cottage on the moor. And in that drafty place their eyes flew open at the same moment. On the grate, a foreign wood fragrantly burning. Beside the hearth, his newly cobbled shoes.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2702 Posts

Posted - 03/18/2007 :  10:59:24  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
And so it ends...

I have tried with Melinda
I really have...
Rejection is a hard deal
With an already fragile ego...
When you say you'll
Do anything and are still
Not good enough....

Well,

Carry my heart into the Hudson, Moonbeam
I don't need it anymore...

Rev Buckman
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