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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5427 Posts

Posted - 11/14/2008 :  18:34:16  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
THE OTHER SIDE

Tonight I sing to you from the other side of the river,
strong currents between us and the bridges down.
The moon so heavy in her grief, she's broken the invisible
beams of the sky and hangs by one rusted cable, shining.

The indefatigable stars gather during the day, hidden softly
in the light, and speak of hurricanes, earthquakes, tsunamis.
They whisper about the rattling axis of the old earth, knowing
a lopsided ball leaves the game to the luck of the bounce.

The river has always separated us, the presence of wisdom
thwarted by concerns of the ego, your beliefs and mine
confused with the medicinal oils of our common spirit.
The traps of faith, for even the rebel conserves his ideals.

I hear the stars. Their voices come out of that high harmony
that we rarely risk, their genius never inclined to separation
from the whole sky. What part of us has slept so long and deeply
that we forget how to share the duty of our brilliant design?

Our story was made with nights like this in mind, the danger
visited by our death, the caring and the not caring, how they
hold hands. I sing to you, asking you to meet me in the water,
to risk drowning for one jubilant kiss.

DL
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1757 Posts

Posted - 11/15/2008 :  18:40:40  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Flash of white lightning
Son you're born into
Only the in-between's
What matters
Say, you think it's gonna rain?
It's gonna rain for sure
One word
And that word is
No

Mickey Newbury
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 11/15/2008 :  19:04:07  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The Forest Service road is about 500
ft above the river on the south side.
It is very strange in this somewhat wild
area that there are occasional curbs on
the river side covered with green moss.

An occasional pickup stops but for the moment,
he prefers to walk. The sound of a boat drones
from below and some still carry the mail upriver.
This area of Oregon is a fisherman's dream and it's
easy to imagine Zane Grey in the 20's and Clark
Gable in the 40's casting for trout and steelhead.

The road has a broad canopy of unbroken growth. There
are alders with their Dalmation trunks on either side
along with firs that may go back thousands of years.
Ferns are everywhere. You can see and hear hawks with
their cries bouncing off the canyon. The time goes by,
neither fast nor slow. He has willed it that way;
fast enough to race the pain, slow enough to caress
her memory.

He thinks if he ever quits smoking, the thing he would
miss the most would be the actions that go along with it;
tapping the end, flicking the lighter as you cupped
your hands, and that first reflective drag as part
of your mind drifts with the smoke. He leaned against
a tall pine, looked down at the flowing majesty
and thought...it's really harder to cry
when you're smoking.

[Ron LyonHeart]
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Edited by - Ron L. on 10/29/2004 10:26:22

Edited by - buckman on 11/15/2008 19:04:49
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 11/22/2008 :  09:12:18  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I saw the deer from the corner of my mind,
listening to Dar Williams and thinking of Melinda.
She came out of the woods to my left,
big and moving fast,
trying to beat me across the road.
Where the woods that come down off
High Tor mountain are interupted by
South Mountain road, time hiccuped
for the two of us.
The next five seconds took about an hour;
as I swerved right, the doe hit my left fender,
made a sound I remembered from 1992,
slid onto the hood, face a foot from mine
on the windshield, tongue out,
eyes aflame, meeting mine, questioning
and then gone up and onto the roof and behind me.
She scampered [may be the wrong word]
into the woods dragging a leg or two.
I continued, shook, but whole,
never to know how the rest of the day unfolded
for the deer whose world met mine...

I saw the deer from the corner of my mind...

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bobaz
Sitter

United Kingdom
50 Posts

Posted - 11/22/2008 :  16:33:39  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Click to see bobaz's MSN Messenger address  Send bobaz a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I " ,,

Bobby Blueboy @ Home

Edited by - bobaz on 11/23/2008 16:00:01
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 11/23/2008 :  06:25:38  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I hold him to me, as a man, as a friend
And feel his frailness and his strength, both...
I ask him to stay and
He laughs and says,
Didn't you know?
It's forever for those like us,
Just forever.............

ForEver, Roy, Thank you....

Rev Buckman
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Susie G
Swinger

USA
729 Posts

Posted - 11/23/2008 :  20:34:26  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send Susie G an AOL message  Send Susie G an ICQ Message  Click to see Susie G's MSN Messenger address  Send Susie G a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Thank you Rev. love ya
Susie g
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 11/27/2008 :  04:42:41  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Ralph [[ the Hudson River BiPolar bear]] was downstairs
dancing to Ray Charles singing Eleanor Rigby
and watching dirty movies on cable...
I said Ralphie, what are you thankful for?
He said, [[ Um, Jameson's, Ray Charles and, uh, dirty movies...]]
Wow, I said, you really have a small window you look out of, don't you?

Rev Buckman was sitting out back just staring at the woods...
I said, Rev, how about you?
He said, between God the Devil and you,
evrything I have ever loved has been taken from me...
The baby, the women.... The pills...
Just what I gotta be thankful for?
I said, You are lucky that I don't kill you,
you can be thankful for that, okay, curmudgeon?

I said, Guys.... Today is the day when some Americans
go to the storeroom of their souls and take an inventory
and appreciate what they have that many, many others do not...
I said, it's a tradition and it's one of those things that
let's us stop for a minute and look back and look ahead
and kind of put a pin in the map that says, You Are Here...

Then I thanked the Gods
[that I sometimes talked to and sometimes even talked to me]
just for being alive,Newbury's music, a few good friends
and staying sober ...
That's it.
They know the rest, that's why they got the job as Gods.....

Besides, everything else is just gravy...

~*~


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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 11/29/2008 :  05:32:29  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Shirley Lau collected the rent once a month.
Shirley Lau shrieked once a month
[to my knowledge; I don't know where else
she might have shrieked]
"You no good tenants, YOU MOVE TAMARA!!"
She never liked when we painted walls purple or that she
had originally rented to four law students and
now it was a hippie commune.
Well, we tried. It was really just a flat with three bedrooms.
a glassed porch and a common kitchen and bathroom.
One student was still there and a waitress, her married
sister and husband who ran a newststand and then,
on the first time around, me.
[There were two times around, but that's another story.]
This was at 2640 McAllister in SF around the corner
from The Airplane/Dead/Quicksilver house and
two blocks from Golden Gate Park.
I found the ad on the Haight bulletin board
and scapped it up. Wow, fifty dollars a month
for a porch. Got a door to cover the doublewide sink,
a mattress from the mission store and I was set.

Watching the tops of the GG bridge blinking
thru the fog. writing on my door on long, yellow legal pads
with a lone candle giving me light and heat...

The yellow paper's are all gone now;
all that remains are
the memories of Shirley Lau shrieking.
"You no good tenants, YOU MOVE TAMARA!!"



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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 12/06/2008 :  19:27:29  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I've been crazy for forty two years now.

Even remember when it first came on,
like a breeze that made me put my collar up
and huddle into my coat.
It was a Friday night in Nyack, 1966,
in front of the St George Hotel on Burd Street.
Sitting in a car with friends, drinking a beer.
The world didn't shake and the radio didn't stop playing,
but I knew part of me had slipped into something new,
different and scary and it wasn't just the one of me
anymore.

People say, You've always had a job.
People say, You raised a family [sort of].
People don't know.
Most of them.

After awhile, you can get good at anything,
even madness.
It just takes practice....
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 12/07/2008 :  08:32:23  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I saw a house in Nevada
built in 1906 from discarded beer bottles
mixed with adobe.
The bottoms were facing out and
the interior was filled with a
strange green glow streaming
thru the necks.
I thought,
If he had used Jameson's bottles
like I did
it would have been done quicker
but then again it probly would
never have been finished.

Edited by - buckman on 12/07/2008 08:47:35
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 12/12/2008 :  19:36:43  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Breaks my heart to see her
With her heart back on the run
She'd gotten used to thinking
He might somehow be the one.
Midnight trains are passing by
The fears won't go away
Looks like another lonely night
After another lonesome day.

Another day spent wishing
That the minutes weren't so long
Another night spent list'ning
To music that sounds all wrong
Angels on her doorstep
They don't come in any more
She didn't even notice
When he left she locked the door

Full moon rising thru the clouds
Like a teardrop in the sky
The only time that's wasted
Is the time spent wondring why
Crossroads coming up ahead
No reason to make a turn
Evry mile's a good one
While there's something left to learn
Evry mile's a good one
While there's something left to learn

Another day spent wishing
That the minutes weren't so long
Another night spent list'ning
To music that sounds all wrong
Angels on her doorstep
They don't come in any more
She didn't even notice
When he left she locked the door

Hank Beukema - revbuckman music - 2008








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BarbraG
Windchimer

1821 Posts

Posted - 12/13/2008 :  01:08:55  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Wow! So wonderful, Hank. Wish I could write
like you sometimes. I love some of the things I
write, but loving someone's elses work is better,
I think.

How are you ? Inquiring minds want to know.

Take care and stay warm up there. Florida is wide
open if you get too cold. For the last couple of
weeks, though, you have to go further South than
Lake City to find some consistently warm days AND
nights. I enjoy the cold, but not the colds. I
happen to have one at this time.

BGee
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 12/14/2008 :  10:32:47  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He told the boy it was time.

They got in the Chevy and
went to the empty parking lot
between Rockland Lake and Hook Mountain.
He got out and told the boy to drive.
It was the first time and he was nervous.
He told him there was nothing to hit and
nothing to go wrong, just give it a little,
play around, get the feel of the machine.
The boy accelerated over the empty blacktop
across the parking lines for awhile,
then turned the wheel right and
made a big circle as they laughed and laughed and
slapped each other on the back while the
blue of Rockland Lake kept passing by...

It was the best of times.

A few months and a half mile up the road
they would both disappear into the night.....
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 12/14/2008 :  11:17:08  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"DEBORAH

It's not that I was thinking of the
hopelessness of my situation or of how much I miss my life,
I don't know what I was thinking but it really didn't seem
to have anything to do with my crying, I just
suddenly started to cry. Perhaps my loneliness just then got to
the point of no return: I cannot keep this up. Anyway walking in the
gray hall with my walker I suddenly started to cry. Tears flowed and
sobs shook me as I walked and then I quieted down a bit and
soon I was telling people, "I don't know why but I just can't
stop crying," and then after a while I wasn't
crying any more. Then I ate but
eating's not the same any more, it isn't
enjoyable, it's just
a way to pass the time. I'll never
get my life back; it's gone; not that I'm dead but that I'm
unable to be in charge of myself. But the worst was when I
said to Deborah, the medicine nurse "Thank you for
being so nice to me," and she
turned away as if annoyed to hear this message. I
wonder what it is about it that she rejects. She is, though,
very nice to me and careful with my medicine and
I love her so much I could just
cry."

Written by FrancEyE, Southern Cal writer and friend
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5427 Posts

Posted - 12/15/2008 :  00:22:54  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
DARK DECEMBER

Tonight I walked from my bed in the dark to look outside where,
on the quiet new snow, beneath a lopsided moon, I could see
the footprints of a lost dog named Sandor.

Sandor?

Yesterday, the 13th of December, I noticed that my calendar
was still on November's page. I could pretend it's the artist in me,
but it could as easily be a disorder, for when it comes to kronos
I am dysfunctional, a refugee from the world of counting,
adrift in the rapture of experience.

Kronos.

I am listening now to Rosa Fra Betlehem by the light of a computer screen,
Sondre Bratland singing in the Church Of Natiivity in Bethlehem,
years ago, his somber Norwegian voice lifted from the river's ice
by the innocent hallelujahs of the Palestinian Boys Choir.

You wonder how these magics come to be. How did a Norwegian
come to travel to Bethlehem to sing with those boys
in that old place of worship? Some purpose took hold of him,
and he saw it through to where kairos took over,
the time of experience, for which there is no calendar.

Kairos.

A friend told me earlier that one of her cats may be sick, that
an x-ray showed a dark spot. When we invite a pet into our hearts,
we invite not only their life but their death as well.
It is the same when we have a child, only our children,
in the absence of misfortune, outlive us.

Life and death.

Sandor. You were hit by a car the second day I loved you
and before I got home from school my father had taken you away
so that I would not see your limp, broken body. Ever since,
in December, you come looking for me when it first snows,
leaving your footprints to remind me what time it is.

Snowflakes falling.

I do not need to know the translation of the words Sondre sings.
The hallelujahs, I understand already. It is cold outside.
No one is awake. The moon looks as if someone elbowed it,
and left a bruise. The boys of Palestine, their innocence
next the experience in Sondre's voice, are as beautiful
as snowflakes falling, covering drops of blood.

A life and a death, all at once, we are.

DL
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BarbraG
Windchimer

1821 Posts

Posted - 12/18/2008 :  21:27:22  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Climb up on that pony, Son." Dad wanted me to ride and ride
well with him, but I had a strong fear of horses. I didn't know
why; no, I didn't. He just kept after me all the time, and
so much so that I kept evading the subject as much as I could. I
was 14 and had sidestepped it all of my life. Knowing a day of
reckoning was just around the bend, I kept trying to gear up for
the trial that lay ahead. Destiny was just down the road, though.

One evening, as storm clouds were gathering, Dad decided to ride
over to the far side of the ranch. As he began to ride away, I
ran over and asked if he had his cell phone. He did. Lightning
began streaking across the sky in the direction that he had headed
a couple of hours later. The flashes were brilliant and extremely
worrisome, even scary. The time came and went that he should have
been back. I had waited long enough. I dialed his phone. No
answer. Dialed again and still no answer. Without even thinking,
I ran over to the pen where Dad had left the pony, saddled, hoping
against hope that I might finally ride. I had seen Dad and others
mount and ride away all of my life. I had no fear at that moment.
I had to find him. I suddenly knew why I hadn't unsaddled him.
..... I climbed up on him, and began the trip at a slow
walk at first. Then, I will never know how, but I settled in and
it was as if I had been born in a saddle.

I began to run the pony, scared enough about Dad to not even
think about what I was doing, I suppose. For some reason, just
before I mounted him, I dialed 911 and gave them an approximate
location where he might be if anything was wrong. I was almost
in tears, the child in me struggling with the possibilities of
why Dad hadn't answered his phone. That had never happened before.

The pony seemed to feel my fear, and began to run harder, faster.
Finally, I saw him, lying on the ground beside the trail, with
his horse nearby. Dismounting and running to his side, I screamed
.. "DAD !!" ... As I fell by his side, the tears breaking through,
I rolled him over just a little, afraid of breaking a bone. He
was conscious and, at that point, he began to cry. He said, "Son, this is an answer to my prayer. I knew there wasn't a car at the ranch right now. The lightning was so bad that my horse bolted. He fell right over there, and I was so thankful I fell clear of him. In all of your life, I never had real faith that you would ever ride with me. But, you just saved my life. On a horse. "

About that time, an ambulance arrived and began to take care of
my Dad. And, about that time, too, it hit me. I had ridden!!
Without fear!! And, without any thought for myself. I knew my
dad was doing to be fine. And, I was, too. I had just begun my
next step in life. I had become a man.


BarbraG
This is a "third grade" kind of write. But, that's okay
sometimes to me.





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BarbraG
Windchimer

1821 Posts

Posted - 12/28/2008 :  00:42:06  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The car came from nowhere. Absolutely nowhere. The rain
was in torrents on the windshield and I had nowhere to run.
It was nearly impossible to see anything ahead. Not only
was it pouring, but the darkness .. was darker than normal.
I made the only decision I could. I braked quickly and pulled
over to the shoulder of the road, and turned my engine off.
Left the lights blaring and, as the car got closer, it seemed
to disappear right in front of me. Took me back to an old
Alfred Hitchcock kind of scenario, you know? It was scary
outside and even scarier inside, beside my fear that was growing
by the second. This wasn't a movie, uh uh. This was
real. Where was the car I had seen? I didn't believe in UFO's.
But, I really needed to find the car.

I started my car, and pulled slowly back on the road and into
the driving rain. If this was tangible, something I could touch,
then it would be over soon. I would be able to locate that strange car ... and it would be over .... soon. I thought to pick up
my cell phone and dial 911, BUT .. no one answered. What ? No
way. I had plenty of charge on the phone, and the phone had rang
on the other end. Oh, how I wanted to go home !!!! It was
getting weirder by the minute. My courage was beginning to
drain and drain quickly. Imaginations and scenes from movies
began to crowd my brain. I looked at my gas tank. It was almost
on empty where, just a few miles back, it was just below full.

Tap Tap. I looked at the passenger window. There was an outline
of a hand tapping on the window, but I couldn't see a face or a
body. The rain was still coming down so hard that a flood wouldn't
have been out of the question right about then. I knew what to do.
Suddenly. I knew.



BGee
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5427 Posts

Posted - 01/03/2009 :  03:09:13  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The snow again, a falling silence while he slept,
his ground sheet growing crisp from the cold,
sticking to the ground like tongue to frosted metal.
His sleeping bag so tight around him he sweated
in the tropical luxury of his dreaming, while winter
wrapped the world in ice and moved the trees
one crack at a time toward the graveyard.
By morning his breath piped small shoots of steam
into the birdless sky. The human body is its own
survival system, contains the ingredients of miracles.

DL

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Craig
Firefly

Kyrgyzstan
3764 Posts

Posted - 01/04/2009 :  04:52:56  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Eyes open wide as a child in wonder, a new discovery is at hand. Her face illuminated by a glow from within, she gazes at the forest beyond. "It is perfect", she breathes to herself. She quietly places the location of it in the secret hiding place of her memory that no one else may see...or hear.
The safest place...for keeping.

Nothing written, dare not spoken.

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