Mickey Newbury Web Board
Mickey Newbury Web Board
Home | Profile | Register | Active Topics | Members | Search | FAQ
Username:
Password:
Save Password
Forgot your Password? | Admin Options

 All Forums
 The Back Porch
 Open Topic
 The Nightly Vigil
 New Topic  Reply to Topic
 Printer Friendly
Previous Page | Next Page
Author  Topic Next Topic
Page: of 161 Lock Topic Edit Topic Delete Topic New Topic Reply to Topic

San Diego
Rocker

476 Posts

Posted - 10/07/2007 :  16:33:49  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
We are waiting on the arrival of a new member of our family. He's scheduled to make his appearance tomorrow around 8am. His name is Wyatt after his paternal granddaddy, David Wyatt Stone. (Jonmark, we may be related.) His Daddy will get to spend a couple of weeks with him before being deployed to Iraq. The kids are glued together with caramel apples waiting for their new cousin.
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1841 Posts

Posted - 10/07/2007 :  16:36:29  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Now the diary. The last entry made years ago. The book closed and tied with frayed ribbon. And, oh, yes... The rusty key. She did not know the end to the story. Neither did he. Anything could happen. And did.
Go to Top of Page

BarbraG
Windchimer

1824 Posts

Posted - 10/09/2007 :  22:28:16  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Deployment. It's always been such an awful thing. The woman
waits for news. No news is good news. Most of the time. Deployment
is dreaded even in peacetime but, in war, is unbearable. It's the
waiting. The waiting takes on a life of its own. It grows arms
and legs, hands and feet and breathes by itself, sucking the very air out of
the world those who wait live in. It's never a friend and always an enemy. For
those who wait, time stands still and it's only good . . . . when it's over.


BGee

Edited by - BarbraG on 10/09/2007 22:31:05
Go to Top of Page

Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5432 Posts

Posted - 10/10/2007 :  00:28:59  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
NO

All his life
the language mastered
him.

As if he slept
at the bottom of a waterfall,
laughing.

In his last year he said no,
once, for the first time,
the only time.

We forgot this moment,
forgot the question.
A sadness without name.

After the dark years
in the hills, not knowing
his mother had died,

He descended,
came to our table
pouring light.

The question?
Would love ever die.

Now you remember.

DL


http://www.myspace.com/mickeynewbury
Go to Top of Page

buckman
Firefly

USA
2703 Posts

Posted - 10/11/2007 :  20:46:52  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
They settled in for the night.
The lettuce was planted,
the arbor was built and they were worn down.
They sat on opposite ends of the couch and he read Michener
and she read Irving and each thought of playing with the other's toes.
It was becoming harder and harder to concentrate.

What really made it hard was the thousand miles between them.

Making the best of what you've got
sounds good but lives hard...

Missin you, B...

~*~
Go to Top of Page

aussiedave
Swinger

Australia
506 Posts

Posted - 10/11/2007 :  23:20:54  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send aussiedave a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"what really made it hard was the thousand miles between them"



...and the universes...

...the universes...

[repeat and slowly fade]
Go to Top of Page

BarbraG
Windchimer

1824 Posts

Posted - 10/12/2007 :  12:23:49  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The horse thundered across the valley. I had watched him from
the beginning of his run. It was as if he were racing the winds,
or fleeing from them. He was running as if his life depended on
it. But, as far as I could see, there was no earthly reason for
his lone stampede. He was magnificently black, a silhouette against
the horizon. Every step he ran took more of a toll on him in
every way. Just when I was wondering if he would ever stop ....
he did. Struggling for breath, it seemed that he would die
... in front of me, just yards away. I wanted to help him breathe
the air that would save his life, and give him the taste of
water that he needed. His skin was wet, and white foam was
coming from his mouth. He looked spent, helpless....and
beautiful. I could stand it no longer. I took a step toward him.
Then, another. He let me approach and, just when I could reach
out and touch him, suddenly ..... ......


BGee - - (Hey, Jonmark)
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1841 Posts

Posted - 10/13/2007 :  17:21:44  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Witness now the daring pair. Maeve with her mad red fly-away hair and lean John with his green brogue and Dubliner's intuition. A rare sight they are at the Harvest Fair. October being the fey time with its haunts and shadows. "The spider's month," Maeve calls it, smoothing Pinocchio's chambray shirt and positioning his intricately carved fingers. A puppetress Maeve's become. And a good one with a trick up her sleeve. Her Add-An-Inch-Nose for Pinocchio is patent pending. "The truth do tell!" she warns, and points her long, black enameled nails at the children. A collective shiver passes through the crowd. Their booth is fog and cobwebs. The most popular at the Fair.

Edited by - Ailinn on 10/13/2007 17:24:58
Go to Top of Page

buckman
Firefly

USA
2703 Posts

Posted - 10/14/2007 :  07:21:54  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
As I stepped out into the
Newly cold air
I smelled a fireplace and
Thought of Other Octobers...

Jesse ran off for the Cavalry
When he was just eighteen
And Carmelita, well,
Carmelita she just kind of
Flew away one morning...

I've said it before, but
Some choices just kinda
Get made For us...

But tonight,
I spread my arms to the
Starry October sky and
I scream out for the strength to
Choose to be sober for
Just one more day...

~*~
Go to Top of Page

andrew p
Firefly

USA
3936 Posts

Posted - 10/14/2007 :  09:10:51  Show Profile  Visit andrew p's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He's wrestled with these demons before...
and they've always won.
Always.
But this time...
this time...
this time, he has a feelin' it's gonna be different,
gotta be different.

He's strapped on his two pearl-handle six shooters,
and put his trusty razor-sharp Bowie inside his right boot...
and his small, but deadly, derringer in his left boot.

Now he is ready for the showdown,
the throw-down...
Now.
and only one will walk away from this one...
only one...
one.

He feels the warm October sunshine on his face...
and he silently prays...
prays that today, he does not fall face down in the dirt...


As the saloon doors hit him in the back...
he heads out into the dusty street...
alone.

andrew

Those who danced were thought to be quite insane by those who could not hear the music. -- -John Milton

Edited by - andrew p on 10/14/2007 09:23:04
Go to Top of Page

BarbraG
Windchimer

1824 Posts

Posted - 10/14/2007 :  10:53:21  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I like that, Andrew. Reading it was like watching an old western.
Those were the good ol' days.

BGee
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1841 Posts

Posted - 10/14/2007 :  17:11:28  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
His walking shoes hidden in the high grass. His wise eyes and cracked-in-half laughter. His wings. His folded wings. The touched stone. The gate left open. Dirt on their hands when they land back on earth mining sunshine.
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1841 Posts

Posted - 10/14/2007 :  17:15:41  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Adam stretches and winces. Reaches for the tender place. The space where his rib used to be. His quirky magic. His heavy hair. His heart in a white cup waiting.

Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1841 Posts

Posted - 10/16/2007 :  21:32:55  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He shows up at the back door wounded. A bloody basin on the table. Bandage on a spool. Suspicious History. Move your fingers, now. Blink your eyes. The scrolled maps roll off the table. Eden on the floor. Thursdays the fog rolls in. Long fingers when he reaches across the sky.
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1841 Posts

Posted - 10/18/2007 :  17:59:59  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He sets sail when the tide is ebbing. Fog on the water. A wind more caught than free. A salt breeze lifting his heavy hair curling in intricate detail under his uniform collar. Imagine his hands plotting the navigation. His curved thumbs. His eyes set with sooty fingers gazing out on perilous seas. The stowaway's loom below decks...listing to port.
Go to Top of Page

BarbraG
Windchimer

1824 Posts

Posted - 10/18/2007 :  19:33:56  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"A wind more caught than free" ....... that's beautiful.

BGee
Go to Top of Page

buckman
Firefly

USA
2703 Posts

Posted - 10/20/2007 :  07:45:59  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
It was her last birthday before she died.

We made love for the last time
For the first time in a year.
She felt herself as old and tired and ugly and
I loved her slow and sweet in the dark,
Like when we were younger and
Full of life and beauty...

She cried and whispered,
Thank you.


~*~
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1841 Posts

Posted - 10/20/2007 :  18:00:33  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The stowaway's story. Sangria nights. Requinto guitars. Trellises where Double Delight roses float big as saucers on the lemon-lime air. Sugar winds and turquois water. Waves crashing like miracles on shore when he drops anchor at the weather-worn dock. His cold fingers warming. His white shirt shining. His charitable imagination and lifetime lease on transient Purgatory. The Earth spinning on its uneasy axis under intrepid stars. In the wings the cast of characters assemble.
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

1841 Posts

Posted - 10/20/2007 :  18:11:32  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The lights dim. The curtain rises. The narrator...downstage center on a straight-backed chair...opens his eyes and blinks. Leans forward and shakes his cloudy head as if to clear it. He tells the first story. Sun and rain. Melancholy coastlines. Nature's apocalyptic portfolio. A timpani sound. A diffused light behind him. The outline of a man and woman running against a scrim of lightning-striped sky. The narrator nods to them hurrying by him. The road loops and levels. Climbs again. Past the scarecrow with his hat full of ravens. Past the late blazing poppies swaying in slow motion on the hill. Past the sun setting under a narrow bridge where tracks cross the sliver of inlet silver now. A back-lit moon rising out of the ocean. A curved story walking out of his hands. The narrator stands. Candles clutched and guttering. A shiver of alarm when he holds up his soot-smudged palms.
Go to Top of Page

buckman
Firefly

USA
2703 Posts

Posted - 10/21/2007 :  16:09:04  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Marionette on a string.
Looking up and wondering.
Faultless creation gone astray
While searching for fun in the wrong places.
Carnival music as background
turning to cacaphony like the
steam in the calliope
isn't up to the job.

What's a poor wooden boy to do?

~*~
Go to Top of Page
Page: of 161  Topic Next Topic   Lock Topic Edit Topic Delete Topic New Topic Reply to Topic
Previous Page | Next Page
 New Topic  Reply to Topic
 Printer Friendly
Jump To:
Mickey Newbury Web Board © 2003 Mickeynewbury.com Go To Top Of Page
Snitz Forums 2000