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San Diego
Rocker

459 Posts

Posted - 09/28/2008 :  13:05:46  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
You here me there I
Watch you bathing
In the clear water
We share as we tie up
On different sides of
The lake we breathe in
The same sweet air
It keeps us moving
To each other

Joe Z

Joe, this is such a beautiful moment. I'm sorry I didn't ask your permission to re-post it. I hope you don't mind.

Love,

Roisin
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Joe Z
Windchimer

USA
1800 Posts

Posted - 09/28/2008 :  13:32:28  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Meaning hello and goodbye, ciao may be the best word in any language. A synonym, Karma, is right up there, too.

Love ya, Ro,

Joe
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BarbraG
Windchimer

1821 Posts

Posted - 09/28/2008 :  19:26:17  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Aloha, Joe.

BGee
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Joey L.
Swinger

USA
1371 Posts

Posted - 09/29/2008 :  17:55:39  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Aloha, Bobby and Rose" ...
cuz ...

The Future's Not ...
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1766 Posts

Posted - 10/03/2008 :  17:50:43  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He loved the autumn outings. Breakfasts by the sea. Carnival kites and the parade of RV's rolling home on the sand-blown Coast Highway. The squirrels coming down from the cliffs, fat and furry, when he called them by their secret names. How they gathered around him and raised up on hind legs when he spoke in their own squeaky language. How they folded their paws up close under their chins waiting for their "critters fair share". Crackers smeared with chunky peanut butter, Costco popcorn, day-old raisin bread. "Ah, pixels," God smiled from above the sun, able to see the big picture.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2702 Posts

Posted - 10/03/2008 :  18:04:25  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Coaxing the ten or twenty thousand acorns that have been bombarding my house the last week, into the woods, is like trying to get a herd of wild mustangs into a corral. I know they'll be back tomorrow, but there is a vague inborn memory that makes us try to stay ahead of the stuff so it doesn't bury us. I have a feeling the squirrels that share my property with me are going to be confused for a little while until they find the pile I left for them...

I figure it will be like the Chinese buffet at Goi Hing's on a Sunday...
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2702 Posts

Posted - 10/03/2008 :  19:32:25  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He remembers the day of August 27th 1992
with pinpoint accuracy.
Oh, not what happened that day.
Nothing much happened.
Another Thursday at work;
then home to a woman and a bottle.
What he remembers is he felt whole...
still.
It was his son's last day on the planet,

and

He felt whole,
still.

He remembers the day of August 27th 1992
with pinpoint accuracy.


Hank
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Craig
Firefly

Kyrgyzstan
3770 Posts

Posted - 10/03/2008 :  20:03:09  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Point of reference...reference points.

Where you were "when". What you were doing. What you felt...or didn't feel.

Kennedy.
World Trade Center.
Hearing of someone's death...or birth.
Hearing your own anquished screams, or involuntary laughter.
Watching my father's knees buckle at the news of my mother's passing. The birth of my grandchild...

We drown our sorrow or we celebrate...with a bottle.
At the very bottom or the very top of our conscienceness...

"If I get drunk or if I pray, either way I'm on my knees."

Craig
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BarbraG
Windchimer

1821 Posts

Posted - 10/03/2008 :  22:15:20  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Hank,
I'm so sorry. May 5th, 1973. The last day my dad
was on the planet. Born in 1917.

BGee
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2702 Posts

Posted - 10/04/2008 :  09:42:14  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Indian Summer Saturday October Hudson Valley.
Hot again today...
Leaves are not turning fiery yet
Like they did when Van wrote Moondance
in the real Woodstock just north of here...
City people driving up the river for the
tree shows will be disappointed and have to
drown their sorrows with mimosas and bloody Mary's
at my friend's Irish bar in Nyack where I met Plumbley
and Gilesy fresh in from the Isle of Wight
in 2001 before the world
turned upside down [again]...

Steely Dan Alive in America came on my jukebox while I was
excercising and
reminded me of Hazy Davy and how much hurt we all felt
for him in jail in Amsterdam those three months, grabbed
on the way from Modena to New York so we could see Willie Nile
open for The Dan;
I felt like I was in there too, tho I know that's ridiculous
because while he was starving and fighting
for his very life, I was drinking whiskey
and taking percocets and chasing wimmins....

Ah, life....

Indian Summer Saturday October Hudson Valley,

Hank

["Sometimes it's just a matter
Of looking down the ladder
To see how far you really have to fall
Sometimes it's just a breeze
That brings you to your knees
But a strong wind can fly you above it all

Sometimes it's just a breeze
That brings you to your knees
But a strong wind can fly you above it all"

Hank Beukema - revbuckman music - 2007]


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buckman
Firefly

USA
2702 Posts

Posted - 10/05/2008 :  07:38:40  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Cold, rainy Sunday morning
reading Carver about staying in bed
and reading on a rainy day,
look up and laugh at the juncture...
Shuffling the music, an orchestra plays
Floyd's Wish You Were Here.
Damn, Another juncture,
remembring sixteen years past
how I let the young friends of
my boy set up a boom box at the wake
against everybody's wishes
and they played this same song...

Hauntings are everywhere in October....
Not always a bad thing.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1766 Posts

Posted - 10/07/2008 :  19:56:20  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The clotted clouds. The cave, low and smoky. The Grail already buried beneath the dirt floor. Another nights absolution in his year of 365 dreams.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1766 Posts

Posted - 10/07/2008 :  19:58:18  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"...close your eyes...let the sky fall...nothing can harm you...dream now..."

MSN
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aussiedave
Swinger

Australia
506 Posts

Posted - 10/07/2008 :  20:30:50  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send aussiedave a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
clouds scatter
I lay back
arms outstretched
a kind of Christ
and muse

I headslam the past
recall your gift
of giving
an empty sacrifice

I examine
transparent holes
in my hands
palms up
fingers curl
a lifeline
of promises gone

I lost you

I wore a crown of thorns
your soporific image before me
memories embellish heavily
upon the brow

pain and...

God how I loved you!

..crucified me
those nails passed through
my living flesh
love spurted out
turning jets
into gilded streams

great droplets fell

empty
the blood flow
turned the water
into a tangerine wine
you drank me dry

breaking bones
and hearts
hurried my death
you left me there to hang

after decades of silence
I shall not rise


AD
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1766 Posts

Posted - 10/11/2008 :  17:43:37  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Hello Dave. Great to see you here! How are things in your part of the world?
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1766 Posts

Posted - 10/11/2008 :  17:47:46  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
...after Craig's Crystal Beach photos. A spatter of rain. Then another...

"I'm holding your heart out of harm's way. Dream now."

MSN

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Ailinn
Windchimer

1766 Posts

Posted - 10/11/2008 :  17:50:23  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
In the orchard of temptation Adam stands and winces. Reaches for the tender place, the space where his rib used to be. The woman in the red dress glistens. A carpet of small petals multiplying under her feet. Around them The Garden shivers.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1766 Posts

Posted - 10/11/2008 :  17:52:32  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Soon he's pulling the Ark through shallow water. His lit cigarette. His granite hair. The vine-entwined fences of Eden receding. The sky, brazen blue, the way he likes it.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1766 Posts

Posted - 10/11/2008 :  17:56:17  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Later, when he's on his knees with cold nights at his shoulders, a sea window comforts him. A candle burning on the fog-damp sill. The salt-encrusted finials of their high iron bed. His uniform jacket and cap on the peg. His storm-smudged eyes...her high-buttoned shoes, waterlogged.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2702 Posts

Posted - 10/15/2008 :  16:47:18  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Melinda took me to Dreamland one afternoon.

The finest barbecued ribs in America are hidden in
a little shack on a dirt road outside of
Tuscaloosa.
The menu was simple;
Half a rack or a whole.
Some iced tea and white bread.
A yellowed autographed 8X10 of Robert Plant
tacked to the burlap wall above the table next to one
of Joe Namath...
The huge man in the white apron that took the order
would have been scary in a prison shower
but was sweet as pecan pie to us...

Just Melinda and me.
Wide awake in Dreamland...
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