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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5416 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

1802 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

1802 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
5416 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
3735 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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buckman
Firefly

USA
2698 Posts

Posted - 01/09/2009 :  18:54:22  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
So many demons...

I told her that I saw the first one
in a cave in Southern Utah,
but I was still young enough
not to recognize it.
The second time,
after I had visited Hell
a time or two, it was easier to
spot; dead on-in-your-face
gut-wrenching-stench-of-death
evil.
The third time, it snuck up slow
and stayed awhile; years,
slipping in, growing strong,
taking charge and taking hold.
It didn't matter much to me,
I was skating the fine line
back and forth from
drunk to addict and
I hadn't planned to be here this long anyway...

There won't be a next time.

Promise.

So many demons...
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BarbraG
Windchimer

1802 Posts

Posted - 01/11/2009 :  20:51:40  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The ocean was beautiful tonight, even with the sun setting in
the West. The sounds of the waves and the birds soaring in from
nowhere, looking for anything offered from human hands was somehow
comforting. It is awesome to sit at the shore where the
Atlantic stops, knowing that just beyond the horizon, it goes
on and on for thousands and thousands of miles, touching lands
I have never seen. The wonder of it all is astounding to me.
The ships and planes that cross that vast sea and never sink
or crash is amazing, if only in my mind. And, that the waters
come just so far and no further, on both sides, screams and
whispers to me that they are held back by Somebody bigger than
you and I.

BGee
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aussiedave
Rocker

Australia
479 Posts

Posted - 01/12/2009 :  01:42:22  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send aussiedave a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
When a blind man cries.........

play that song for me.....please.

"When a blind man cries"

thankyou.
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aussiedave
Rocker

Australia
479 Posts

Posted - 01/12/2009 :  01:47:33  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send aussiedave a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
There are no demons Hank.

'Death' has been overcome and with it the delusion of demons.

There is nothing but tranquility in the garden.

We just need to grasp that reality.

True reality.
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aussiedave
Rocker

Australia
479 Posts

Posted - 01/14/2009 :  02:35:24  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send aussiedave a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
luv ya my brother.
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5416 Posts

Posted - 01/14/2009 :  06:46:29  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Some masters say our life lasts only seven days.
Where are we in the week? Is it Thursday yet?
Hurry, cry now! Soon Sunday night will come.

Robert Bly
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BarbraG
Windchimer

1802 Posts

Posted - 01/14/2009 :  10:40:59  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Is Sunday the first day of the week, or no ?



BGee
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5416 Posts

Posted - 01/14/2009 :  21:38:11  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
ASHEVILLE BOY

Late at night the hills came down
And wrap their arms about the town
In the pitch black, tubes aglow
Inside a midnight radio
The deejay's voice, the mellow tune
Imagination hung the moon
Those doo-wop crooners in the dark
Fit the mood and lit a spark
In the mind of an Asheville boy

His dreams they took him far away
Out west to San Francisco Bay
A deejay’s voice on the radio
There at the birth of rock & roll
North Beach nights, the Say-Hey Kid
The hazy crazy things he did
Recoverin' Baptist sneakin' shots
Family man who never thought
He’d ever lose the joy
He knew as an Asheville boy

Six days sauced and Sunday cried
Rue the day his daughter died
The bottom rung, divorced his wife
Almost threw away his life
Came a time to make a choice
For a man whose living was his voice
To speak the truth, begin to mend
Remarried with his wife again
The baby steps of joy
He knew as an Asheville boy

Sinatra, Peggy, Mel Torme
The high life of a young deejay
Magnetic tape wrapped on a spool
The four young lads from Liverpool
But the one who changed his life around
Was a kid who came from Houston town
A record titled Looks Like Rain
He learned to shake the rusty chain
That tethered all his joy
Lit a light for an Asheville boy

Down so long it looked like up
He poured the moon out of his cup
Brought his heart back to the sun
American treasures, he was one
Bay Area radio hall of fame
Now includes this deejay’s name
And late at night the tubes still glow
Inside that midnight radio
Remembering the joy
And tears of an Asheville boy

DL
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2698 Posts

Posted - 01/17/2009 :  14:01:42  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
It's about time.
It's about time a plane landed safely
in lower Manhattan.
It's about six bucks a pack and
four bucks a gallon.
It's about saying I love you or
I can get along fine without you.
It's about time for my yearly haircut.
It's about time we had a change.
It's about the long and the short
the yin and the yang and the wang dang doodle.
It's about goose stepping to your body's signs or
giving the finger to the signs of the times.
It's about to drive me insane.
It's about the first thing you think of
when you hear a close loud noise or
a car stops in front of you suddenly.
It's about singing Bo Diddly in the shower.
It's about your team winning.
It's about that feeling when they're born.
It's about being young and in love or
old and alone or old and in love or
young and alone.
It's never the same as it ever was.
It's always going to be today.
It's usually a struggle but
you usually get what you need.
It's always time to remember it could be worse and
it could be better.
It's sometimes your own choice and
sometimes there ain't a damn thing you can do about it.
It's about that one thing.
It's always seeming like it's never enough but
it usually is.
It's about time.

It's what it is.


Hank Beukema 2009
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Jonmark
Windchimer

USA
1779 Posts

Posted - 01/17/2009 :  14:09:56  Show Profile  Visit Jonmark's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Amen Rev.
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BarbraG
Windchimer

1802 Posts

Posted - 01/17/2009 :  16:12:46  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
More, Jonmark.... More. Encore !!!!


BGee
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2698 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
5416 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
2698 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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