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Craig
Firefly

Kyrgyzstan
3766 Posts

Posted - 10/30/2008 :  18:39:50  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
it curls first and then succumbs to a stirring of dread sleep
like a coven of doubtless nightmares
needle fingertips solely rocking slow cradles
what whining isnt deafening
when whimpering screams dampen the sheets
shifting into the transparent dimensions of gossamer lullabies

~ naga
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1762 Posts

Posted - 11/01/2008 :  17:28:00  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Marcella Delight with her hallowed "Hobo Album", and now Clotilda, a small bird with dark eyes and silver hair. Silver feathers easily ruffled. She lights the forbidden cigarette and smokes with her chin defiantly lifted. "It was this same night many years ago..." she says watching the torch-bearing skeletons dancing down El Camino Real. "I haven't spoken of him for years. Who was there to speak to? I'm not ungrateful for our years together, I'm just impatient for this part to end," she sweeps her hand across the star-lit panorama. "He was the one true man," she says. And I think... These women... So much inside and so little time! Are their hearts grief-riven, or are they the fortunate ones? To live eighty years...and to remember?
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1762 Posts

Posted - 11/01/2008 :  17:35:50  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
This is the weekend of skulls and candles. Dias De Los Muertos. Cemeteries with thousands of votives flickering in ruby jars. Huge arches of marigolds decorated with photographs and mementos of the departed. Strolling Mariachis and local Priests stopping at each decorated gravesite. All-night vigils. Families offering food and drink. And always the Pan de Muerto. An egg bread with dough-shaped bones on top sprinkled with sugar or anise seed. To welcome the returning spirits of the dead. "It gets very crowded," Mirella says.
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BarbraG
Windchimer

1821 Posts

Posted - 11/02/2008 :  01:07:10  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
She jumped from Heaven into my life just a little
over four years ago. Her name is Ashlyn. She is
my granddaughter. I adore her. I absolutely adore
her!!! She has Scandinavian blonde hair, sky blue
eyes, fair skin, full pink lips that are smiling
or laughing out loud a lot of the time. Her
mischievous ways are infectious. The last time I
visited her, I was in her bed with her and we were
talking. I asked her if she had come from Heaven.
She said, "Yes". I asked her if Jesus said anything
to her when she was there. She didn't even hesitate.
She said, "Yes. He told me to leave!" I said,
"Leave?"... Ashlyn said, "Yes, and come to this house!!"
I thought back to when it was first found out that Ashlyn
was to be a girl and not a boy. Her dad was so upset
about it that his anger filtered down to the rest of the
family, and made life miserable as Ashlyn's mother
carried her under her heart awaiting her birth. What a
horrible thing to do to his family. What a horrible
impression to leave in their hearts. Ashlyn doesn't
know it and she doesn't have to. She loves him. He's
her dad ... But, when she told me that Jesus told her
to leave Heaven and ....... come ... to this house......
her answer wasn't fed to her in any way. The things
my two granddaughters have said to me concerning Heaven
and Jesus are astounding to me. Wonderfully and scarily ..
astounding. My first granddaugher, Kristyn, told me
when she was about three that .... "when I was in Heaven,
Nanu, I was a angel." (never forgot that one, either)

BGee

Edited by - BarbraG on 11/02/2008 01:09:41
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aussiedave
Swinger

Australia
506 Posts

Posted - 11/02/2008 :  01:23:49  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send aussiedave a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Melancholy:
dejection,depression,despondency,gloom,gloominess,sadness,sorrow,dejected,depressed,despondent,disconsolate,dismal,dispirited,doleful,downcast,downhearted,gloomy,glum,lowspirited,lugubrious,miserable,moody,sad,sorrowul,unhappy.

~but the fog clears~

I am in heaven...........where melancholic contentment is a natural high.

AD
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5427 Posts

Posted - 11/02/2008 :  06:39:23  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
In the end the early departed no longer have
need of us. One is gently weaned from things
of this world as a child outgrows the need
of its mother's breast. But we who have need
of those great mysteries, we for whom grief is
so often the source of spiritual growth,
could we exist without them?
Is the legend vain that tells of music's beginning
in the midst of the mourning for Linos?
the daring first sounds of song piercing
the barren numbness, and how in that stunned space
an almost godlike youth suddenly left forever,
the emptiness felt for the first time
those harmonious vibrations which now enrapture
and comfort and help us.

Rilke
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 11/02/2008 :  07:40:22  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The Death of the Flowers
By William Cullen Bryant

The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year,
Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere.
Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead;
They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit?s tread.
The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay,
And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day.
Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang and
stood
In brighter light, and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood?
Alas! They all are in their graves; the gentle race of flowers
Are lying in their lowly beds, with the fair and good of ours.
The rain is falling where they lie; but the cold November rain
Calls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely ones again.

The wind-flower and the violet, they perished long ago,
And the brier-rose and the orchis died amid the summer glow;
But on the hill the golden-rod, and the aster in the wood,
And the yellow sun-flower by the brook in autumn beauty stood,
Till fell the frost from the clear cold heaven, as falls the plague on
men,
And the brightness of their smile was gone, from upland glade, and glen.

And now, when comes the calm mild day, as still such days will come,
To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home;
When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still,
And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill,
The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore,
And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more.

And then I think of one who in her youthful beauty died,
The fair meek blossom that grew up and faded by my side.
In the cold moist earth we laid her, when the forests casts the leaf,
And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief;
Yet not unmeet it was that one like that young friend of ours,
So gentle and so beautiful, should perish with the flowers.


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Ailinn
Windchimer

1762 Posts

Posted - 11/02/2008 :  16:15:57  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Hard country," he says the last time they cross the border.
Little pillows of dust where his bots touch the ground. A hot
wind licking their sunburned shoulders. He believes in the
consequence of choices. Cataclysmic and profound. The sky
overhead lowering like molten glass. Nature's apocalyptic portfolio.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1762 Posts

Posted - 11/02/2008 :  16:22:44  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Now they're asleep in their moonlit room with quilts drawn
up to their shoulders. His feet sticking out of the covers
in case he needs to escape. Some Heaven slides by. Some
sunny days. Dawn trees in their ephemeral dresses.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 11/02/2008 :  17:21:27  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Oh, my dear...
not a word wasted, not a colour missed.
I bow in your direction once again.

~*~
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1762 Posts

Posted - 11/03/2008 :  19:48:31  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Love to you, Reverend B.
I'll bet it's beautiful in the Hudson Valley now.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1762 Posts

Posted - 11/03/2008 :  19:55:23  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The Tattooed Lady

Around the smallpox vaccination scar
I'd hated since I was a little girl
I had him put this daisy, then its stem
because the flowers looked too spidery
without a stem, and then these little leaves.
He said to think of it as just a gift
for a pretty girl. I went to him that night
because my arm was swollen, and I stayed
for twenty years. Around the daisy's stem
he slowly wound a snake that circled me
with swirls of trailer camps and cheap hotels
and sideshows, yet I loved the masterpiece
that I became to him. His touch had touched
me everywhere. His love is here to see.

Ted Kooser
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BarbraG
Windchimer

1821 Posts

Posted - 11/05/2008 :  00:34:07  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
And, now my children are in different hands than America
has known before. These hands are half white and half black.
I hope these hands will represent the best half of both the
white man and the black man, and the white man and the red man.
Life doesn't have to be a racial thing. It wasn't for me when
I was growing up in the Army. All children played together.
We Army children didn't care what color our best friend was.
Our dads marched along side by side with all races, and were
trained to cover each other's backs. Wow !!! There can be no
greater faith than to trust another with your life.

Today is that today that we spoke of yesterday. It is finally
here. From the second floor of a hotel with a black man lying
fatally shot on a balcony in 1968.. to the events of today ....
it is time. The time has come for all Americans to live and
dream and fight side by side for the sake of our children. We
will put aside our horrible treatment of each other and teach our
children that we were wrong in teaching them the same thing.
We will !!! We will overcome !!! Maybe, we have.

BGee
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Jackie
Windchimer

Austria
2057 Posts

Posted - 11/05/2008 :  03:43:35  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Amen.
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5427 Posts

Posted - 11/06/2008 :  14:05:05  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
MAKING A FIST

For the first time, on the road north of Tampico,
I felt the life sliding out of me,
a drum in the desert, harder and harder to hear.
I was seven, I lay in the car
watching palm trees swirl a sickening pattern past the glass.
My stomach was a melon split wide inside my skin.

"How do you know if you are going to die?"
I begged my mother.
We had been traveling for days.
With strange confidence she answered,
"When you can no longer make a fist."

Years later I smile to think of that journey,
the borders we must cross separately,
stamped with our unanswerable woes.
I who did not die, who am still living,
still lying in the backseat behind all my questions,
clenching and opening one small hand.

Naomi Shihab Nye
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 11/08/2008 :  05:56:52  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The thought came on suddenly one
morning, even though it had been
hanging around for awhile in the back room,
that to go on as you get older and
stay sane and sober or even just exist
outside of a padded cell,
that you must look at your past life
like it was somebody else's.
Or a treasured book or movie
that you go back to occasionally,
cause when it comes back to you
all at once it is too much to carry
if you're gonna make it.

The first wife at nineteen,
so young and unscarred still
laying on her back in Golden Gate park
listening to you read Rexroth,
then going to look for his house.
A book. Yeah, that's it.
Okay, twenty years, so it's a long book,
a Michener with lots of characters and intrigues
and tragedies, but surely someone eles's life.

And

The boy.
a grand movie, surely,
some in black and white, but
mostly in color,
with lots of baseball and football and
great music and a sad ending.

Carmelita,
Martina,
Melinda....

Must have been somebody else's life...

~*~



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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 11/09/2008 :  12:01:08  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
There was a story in the San Francisco Chronicle
That of course I forgot to save
But it was about a lady who lived in the good ol' days
When a century was born
And a century had died
And about these good old days,
The old lady replied
"Why they was just a lot of people
Doin' the best they could
Just a lot of people
Doin' the best they could"
And then the lady said that they did it
Pretty up and walkin' good

-John Stewart
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 11/09/2008 :  16:28:53  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I woke up startled at 3 am
to the sound of acorns thundering
onto the roof like hail.
Scared and in that moment of not quite awake
I dialed her number in Florida
even though she'd been gone five years.
I woke enough with the first ring to hang up
but stared at the phone wondering
who had the number now and if
I had stayed on would they have talked me down.

It seems almost funny now...
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 11/12/2008 :  18:37:33  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Nightmare of darkness.
Moonlight glimpsed thru the single
slat of a wayward blind.
Barely understood visions,
the moment of a kiss,
baseball suspended in mid-air arc.
Running, always running without movement.
Dire fears of encroaching madness.

Morning just before full awakening...

~*~
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5427 Posts

Posted - 11/13/2008 :  02:00:55  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Grania, good to see you here again.
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