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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 01/18/2009 :  20:00:24  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I could have lived without it.

I could have lived without remembering all the things
that happened while I wasn't paying attention.
I could have lived without this last summer ever ending.
I could have lived without ever hearing the Five-Dollar-Foot-Long
commercial.
I could have lived without the last six months
[or so, or so].
I could have lived without her coming in at three A M.
I could have lived without Will Ferrell.
A long time.
I could have lived without Mondays.
I could have lived without ever hearing he was dead.
I could have lived without the Red Sox winning not one, but two.
I could have lived without the cd of Sondheim sings.
I could have lived without Ray Lewis [and I'm sure he does fine without
me.]
I could have lived without Jameson's.[But, only for taday.]
I could have lived without knowing Paul Newman won't make any more movies.
I could have lived without knowing Mickey Newbury won't have a new album.
I could have lived without hearing she was gone.
I could have lived without a cell phone.[Oh, I do!]
I could have lived without ever seeing a plane land in the Hudson.
[But, I'm glad it did. The perfect crash.]

I could have lived without a lot,
and I couldn't have lived without a lot,

But that's just me.

I could be wrong.

[But I don't think so.]








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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5417 Posts

Posted - 01/26/2009 :  00:21:02  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
THERE ARE NOT MANY KINGDOMS LEFT

I write the lips of the moon upon her shoulders. In a
temple of silvery farawayness I guard her to rest.

For her bed I write a stillness over all the swans of the
world. With the morning breath of the snow leopard I
cover her against any hurt.

Using the pen of rivers and mountaintops I store her
pillow with singing.

Upon her hair I write the looking of the heavens at
early morning.

Away from this kingdom, from this last undefiled
place, I would keep our governments, our civilization, and
all other spirit-forsaken and corrupt institutions.

O cold beautiful blossoms of the moon moving upon
her shoulders, the lips of the moon moving there,
where the touch of any other lips would be a profanation.

Kenneth Patchen
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BarbraG
Windchimer

1802 Posts

Posted - 01/29/2009 :  22:03:58  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Somewhere in the night, the old man is looking up
at the stars just outside his window. The moon is
rocking ever so gently, back and forth, back and
forth. He closes his eyes for a moment and, upon
opening them, sees the same beautiful scene again.
He wonders why he ended up alone....lonely for the
first time in his life. He had it all back in his
day, he remembers. Her hair was as black as night,
her eyes blue as the sky, with a smile that made
the sun shine on his darkest days. How he loved
her. When she left, after so long a time by his side,
to make her journey into the stars, she had told him
that he should look for her just before he went to
sleep. "Just find the moon, and look to the right,
my love. I'll be among the stars. I'll be waiting
for you." This - he does every night before sleep comes
and takes him down roads of memories that he walked
with her. Wandering around the night sky is the
highlight of his day, but the wonder of his dreams
in the night brings them together again, if only for
a little while. He knows she waits. And, so does he.


BGee

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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 01/30/2009 :  20:03:58  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Melinda's Waltz

Things to remember, things to forget
May be what's left of it now.
Days by the river, ice bound and blue
A basket, a bottle, moments with you.
Sounded so simple, and wasn't it cold?
Fresh-faced, looking ahead.
If we could've jumped forward
Looked back at today
Would we find us alone in our beds?

With your head on my shoulder
Your hand on my back
I could almost dare to dream.
Plans that we made
At the end of those days
Words that we truly did mean.
It's only too late,
When we bring down the gate,
Lock up, turn out the lights.
There's a path not yet walked
For one, maybe both
Where the past and future are right.

[So many miles between then and now
And more between us and romance
But, Hell, here we are
It's the wee, small hours
There's always time for a slow dance...]

It's nearly a year since I last saw your face
These days I'm just learning to walk
So much to offer, so little to give
But we're dancing, no time to talk.
With your head on my shoulder
Your hand on my back
I could almost dare to dream
Plans that we made
At the end of those days
Words that we truly did mean


It's snowing tonight, I can picture the lights
On the mountain from your back porch
Hard to tell, I was under your spell
I always carried the torch.
Some of my edges, cleaned and smooth
Some rough as ever I fear.
It's late in the game, there's no one to blame
What doesn't bring a laugh, brings a tear.


[So many miles between then and now
And more between us and romance
But, Hell, here we are
It's the wee, small hours
There's always time for a slow dance...]

Well, here we are
It's the wee, small hours
and
There's always time for a slow dance...

Hank Beukema - 2009




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Ailinn
Windchimer

1566 Posts

Posted - 02/08/2009 :  19:50:38  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Pick up the sword," he said. She followed him into the mountain. They slept in their armor inside the honeycombed cage where the caves whispered and plotted and brought their terrible heat down.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1566 Posts

Posted - 02/08/2009 :  19:54:58  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"...so cold..." she shivered, her teeth chattering when her long needles paused over the wool. A salty wind lifted the lace from the sill. A spatter of rain hit the window. The candles flickered. The kettle whistled. The kitchen filled with steam. He stoked the fire and sparks flew up. He nodded and sighed his pleasure. His breath left little pillows of frost on the air. Blood in his handkerchief.
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aussiedave
Rocker

Australia
497 Posts

Posted - 02/13/2009 :  22:58:51  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send aussiedave a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
distance between us,
eternally just,
despite wounded souls
united

scars deep and grieving,
avalanches soft,
smothers our smiles
divided

AD January 2009
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1566 Posts

Posted - 02/14/2009 :  16:54:14  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The Border beckoned. The sheened ocean. The other bridge. The weeds bending on both sides of the rail. No loss betrayed his senses. No beauty escaped his eye. All that falling-down Shangri La light spangling the windshield.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1566 Posts

Posted - 02/14/2009 :  16:59:18  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I crossed with another truck full of angels today. Plaster of Paris and papier mache. Pierced tin and bits of chipped mirror. "Anything else to declare?" "Extra halos," I said. Last time we were sent to Secondary, remember. Cooled our heels on the concrete divider while they kicked the tires and had the dogs sniff around. This morning I didn't even take my sunglasses off. You must have looked suspicious that day.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1566 Posts

Posted - 02/16/2009 :  19:27:55  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
They live in the city of Frankincensco. The lamps are always shrouded in fog. Hoarse horns cry forlornly. A splayed bridge charms like a bracelet of gold. A thousand steep hills keep their street hips swaying. His sheltering arms hold her out of harm's way. Her hand stays snug in his warm back pocket.
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BarbraG
Windchimer

1802 Posts

Posted - 02/18/2009 :  00:04:04  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
She has walked through her life with steps that have been
either too fast or too slow with no time alloted to stop
and smell the roses. Those who have mattered to her the
most were the ones she sidestepped, continuously thinking
that there would always be tomorrow to re-visit the
dreams and memories of the past.....memories worth reliving
and laughter worth sharing again in the retelling of stories
from long ago, in the re-visiting of loved ones grown older.

Time stole those plans and ran away with them.
Time took the time that she had left with those she loves
and wrapped everything into a neat package and threw it
all away. "If only" doesn't matter anymore. It's too late.
Chances are slim that she will ever be completely happy
again. There will always be SOMEthing missing in the passing
of things that stayed on a back burner with no fire to keep
them warm. No fire to keep them warm. No fire.


BGee

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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5417 Posts

Posted - 02/18/2009 :  01:36:03  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Sat next streetporch bluesman last summer New Orleans a few short
blocks from Congo Square heard in blind primitive beauty of
bottlenecked Miss National and rust-hinged singing the entire
American opera in single pitched cry plowshares work songs
rhythm oil tellin' time off belief as medicine all the way from
there to here in one plunk song sang come on n go to Beulah land
outshine the sun come on go to Beulah land outshine the sun DL
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Grania
Rocker

104 Posts

Posted - 02/18/2009 :  20:47:55  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply

Some days he reaches across the sky
Some nights he reaches through it
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5417 Posts

Posted - 02/19/2009 :  23:39:30  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I am much too alone in this world, yet not alone enough
to truly consecrate the hour.
I am much too small in this world, yet not small enough
to be to you just object and thing, dark and wise.
I want my free will and want it to join
the path which leads to action;
and want during difficult times, where something is opening,
to be with those who know things,
or else be alone.

Rilke
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BarbraG
Windchimer

1802 Posts

Posted - 02/20/2009 :  01:31:43  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Aloneness and loneliness. Are they one and the
same or are they even connected at all? Do they
mean the same thing?

What say you?


BGee
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 02/22/2009 :  17:14:01  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Does love get wasted?

I've been alone almost every night
for the last five years
[except for a couple of precious months...]
I have so much in my heart,
but nowhere to put it.

Where does it go when I'm not using it??

Does love get wasted?

~*~
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 02/22/2009 :  17:16:49  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Don't get me wrong.

I like alone,
I even enjoy alone, after most of my adult years
having a companion or lots of people around.
Alone can be refreshing, free-ing,
time spent finding out what you missed
along the way...
Everybody knows what's missing, tho.
Fill in your own blanks...
And no, I don't just mean That...
Any number of things you live without
when you're alone.
But, hey, there's people living without everywhere.

So,
Don't get me wrong...

Rev buckman
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 02/22/2009 :  17:19:30  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Happiness seems to run faster as I get older.

Used to be I could catch it
with a fast car, a stretch of river,
a woman and a bottle by my side.
Further back, my son laughing.
But then I was cheating;
I was running with false energy
from one thing or another
and now I'm not.
Slower, maybe wiser, maybe not.
It makes happiness stay a little ahead,
slipperier, harder to grab...

But I can still see it...
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1566 Posts

Posted - 02/26/2009 :  17:37:19  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"To keep me in the chair He broke my legs."

His slow heart beating day-in-and-day-out. His blue wounds, like peacock feathers. His spirit preparing to walk away from his body. One white candle burning on the balcony rail. Moths flinging themselves at the luminescence.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 02/27/2009 :  18:33:43  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
A few brave angels still
get into my house at nite.
I stuff towels underneath
the door but it only slows them down.
They hover over the bed,
sometimes with the face of Jesse,
sometimes with Martina's.
Sometimes they have no face at all
which is the worst.

I am so weary of disappointing them.
I've seen how they look every dawn
for so long
I can't remember
a time before they came.
The time of the demons
seems long past, but
I can tell you that
it is sometimes as bad
to be haunted by angels...
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