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Ailinn
Windchimer
2155 Posts |
 Posted - 02/28/2011 : 21:02:07
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| Eve steps out of Adam with her heart on her sleeve. Guilty before they begin. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2155 Posts |
Posted - 02/28/2011 : 21:11:01
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| Adam races across State Route 127. Tumbleweed. Miles of mirage. "Do you know what I'm sayin'," he says. An alibi on the radio. His hand on her knee. Adam cuts the lights but leaves the motor running. FM static rolling in. |
Edited by - Ailinn on 05/16/2020 18:31:57 |
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Craig
Firefly
Kyrgyzstan
3793 Posts |
Posted - 03/07/2011 : 20:26:03
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US Highway 90.
Brackettville, Texas.
Home of the real Alamo.
The one where John Wayne was Davy Crockett.
The ritual stop at the Burger 'N Shake.
Cheeseburger, fries and a coke.
Conversation with my fellow road warrior,
I survey the highway outside the picture frame window.
A man with a cross on his shoulder with a wheel at the bottom.
A man on a mission.
We all have our crosses to bear I concluded,
Smiling.
A snapshot of time...
In my mind's eye.
Craig |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2819 Posts |
Posted - 03/11/2011 : 20:19:11
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The horses stir, uneasy.
I creep into the camp as a cat walks on grass.
I take back what is mine and avenge the stealing of my soul.
I have no sense of guilt...
The men around the campfire eye me warily,
but none dare move.
They know me, and what I have lost,
and what I have lost makes me dangerous.
As I leave, I run their horses off with a slap,
leaving them powerless in the freezing wilderness.
and still, I feel no guilt...
Illiance and Grania stared at me as I rode in.
When I told them of the campsite and Our victory
they shed quiet tears for those who had not made it...
The river runs, the moon is high and clear
and it is oh, so bitter cold.
But, there is one more hand to be dealt before we rest.
I will never feel the guilt....
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2155 Posts |
Posted - 03/12/2011 : 18:05:38
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Adam lies on his heart side toward Eve's honey-comb soul. Divine light leaking through the louvers.
Eve steps out of Adam with a chip on her shoulder. Hairline cracks in the wallpaper. Something burning on the stove.
Adam has the Almanac out on the table again. A sky of roiling blue. A confluence that moves him.
Sails swell in the Bay through the window's low pane. Adam feeds the script through the shredder. Page by coffee-stained page. The fog-bound bridge swaying behind him.
What was it like waking up with the sheets on fire waiting for The Ark to arrive? Waiting for the olive branch in their sleeping-history high iron bed?
Was Eve "in love" with Adam? Don't you think she should have been? I suppose it's you who persists with these questions. So. How's the rodeo circuit, or are you riding for the brand? |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2819 Posts |
Posted - 03/30/2011 : 18:03:49
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How dim sometimes the Light
we follow seems...
But when we get out
From the towns and
Their false glow that
Robs our vision...
Out under nothing but
The sky and His face,
Our eyes will again
divine the light and
The path thru the forest
Shines like the Sun...
As I stepped out into the
Newly cold air
I smelled a fireplace and
Thought of Other winters.
Jesse ran off for the Cavalry
When he was just eighteen
And Carmelita, well,
Carmelita she just kind of
Flew away one morning.
I've said it before, but
Some choices just kinda
Get made For us...
But tonight,
I spread my arms to the
Starry winter sky and
I scream out for the strength to
Choose to be sober for
Just one more day...
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Craig
Firefly
Kyrgyzstan
3793 Posts |
Posted - 03/31/2011 : 18:50:59
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However so dim, the light draws us in.
Sometimes just a flicker.
Sometimes a roaring flame.
The flame still burns.
Tomorrow, we meet face to face...again.
Smiles. Laughter. Tears.
Because of the light.
It started with a single song.
A pure solitary voice.
An introspective glimpse.
~Craig |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2155 Posts |
Posted - 04/06/2011 : 20:18:57
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| In lacy water a man and a woman are walking through dreams on their slow way to Heaven. Joined at the hips. Syncopated. Sun in his eyes, pieces of sky, reflection of her tart-cherry hair. Later, coming home from the market, hips still knocking together. The talking man walking under geranium-stacked fire escapes. His voice catching in the peppery green. |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2819 Posts |
Posted - 04/09/2011 : 12:39:20
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Four years ago tomorrow morning
I woke up with four bottles of Jameson's
and some pill bottles
in the basket next to my bed
after a three day weekend.
What I did the next day was
nothing brave or heroic,
I dug the holes myself.
But, as Jimmie Dale Gilmore said:
"I painted myself into a corner,
but footsteps are about to become
part of my design"
Live this life, buckos, while you can.
-Friend of Ralph and Rev Buckman, H |
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Doug L
Firefly
Canada
5446 Posts |
Posted - 04/09/2011 : 22:10:05
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Beautiful resurgence you've accomplished, Hank.
Proud to know you.
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Jonmark
Windchimer
USA
1791 Posts |
Posted - 04/10/2011 : 08:33:36
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Every now and then... all is as it should be.
Live long and prosper, Mr. Buckman. |
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BarbraG
Windchimer
1824 Posts |
Posted - 04/10/2011 : 17:56:30
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Warp speed 10 !!
BGee |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2819 Posts |
Posted - 04/13/2011 : 19:12:06
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We are tired of the game they're running on us.
We are too new to know.
We are sure we are the only lovers
that have ever felt this way [we think]
We are hoping we are better every day
we get closer to death.
We are misunderstood and overlooked
and
underhandled and overbearing.
We are too much to take
except in small doses.
We are certain there is always
something left to lose and
nothing to gain or maybe it's
nothing left to lose and
evrything to gain.
We are sure we have lost decades to desires of the senses.
We are everything we needed to be
and nothing of what we thought we'd be.
We have never been to a Great Adventure or a Six Flags
but have been to the original Disneyland on mushrooms.
We are missing the way it used to be but
loving what it is.
We are always only about twelve steps away
from falling down a rabbit hole.
We are folks that have worked our whole lives
but are hedonists at heart.
We are mostly delightful.
We are |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2155 Posts |
Posted - 04/13/2011 : 19:32:47
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Here at the edge of History
Wine on the table
Coral flush in the sky
The season settling in
Its intuit harmonic gamble
We are talking
With sand and with stones
Temporal rays bend
Your eyes squinting in
Refracted Santa Ana
Wind in the brittlebush
And tasseled Ocotillo
Monkeyflowers conspiring
Rumors of Orion
Behind the sovereign Santa Rosas
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2819 Posts |
Posted - 04/16/2011 : 05:01:54
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Precious endings
anxious beginnings.
A rest stop on
the road to eternity.
Eyes meet level as the
waves tilt the table.
She holds her teacup
as my coffee spills.
Her laugh echoes
across the water and
into forever |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2155 Posts |
Posted - 04/17/2011 : 20:48:10
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| "When this movie stops..." he says. He's re-writing history at the kitchen table. Crumpled napkins. Lots of gold ink. She's trying to prepare for the next life. The one he believes in. |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2819 Posts |
Posted - 04/24/2011 : 21:06:01
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She told me that there were
Too many of me inside for her to love
And rode on ahead of me into the nite.
I called after her and said,
Pick one of me,
Stay close for a few miles...
I'll try to head in that direction. |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2819 Posts |
Posted - 04/24/2011 : 21:08:28
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I told her that I had built walls
Around my heart and that I was
Never going to let anyone ever get
Close enough to hurt me again.
I was mistaken.
By the light of a spring moon,
My old heart has found a
new path thru the woods
And into the familiar river of pain.
Think I'll just lay here awhile
And let the water wash over me.
Keep riding, boys; I'll catch up. |
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Doug L
Firefly
Canada
5446 Posts |
Posted - 04/25/2011 : 00:51:38
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DRAGONFLY
Prairie morning, Greyhound station
Rubbed raw faces of the nation
Dance outside the congregation
The blamed more than the blest
Tattered shirt, all-knowing stare
The wariness the wayward wear
Headed north, a town up there
To lay a man to rest
Tote sack with the zipper broken
Smokin’ where it says no smokin’
Eyes half-closed and road wide open
Two hundred miles of sky
Cree old man and Blackfoot mother
Dragonfly, dry crack of summer
A brother barely knew his brother
Come to say good-bye
Roads they go in circles round
The winters snow, the summers pound
Roots work to slow the theft of ground
Wind steals off the surface
Treat our heaven worse than hell
Did momma catch the bird that fell?
A Greyhound up the old Qu’appelle
Another spirit’s left us
Prairie morning, Greyhound station
Rubbed red faces of the nation
Dance outside the congregation
The blamed more than the blest
Tattered shirt, all-knowing stare
Dragonfly, a wing, a prayer
Going north, a town up there
To lay a soul to rest
DL |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2819 Posts |
Posted - 04/26/2011 : 17:57:10
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Dear Doug and Dear Ailinn and Grania.
You make the nights sweeter. |
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Topic |
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The Nightly Vigil