Mickey Newbury Web Board
Mickey Newbury Web Board
Home | Profile | Register | Active Topics | Members | Search | FAQ
Username:
Password:
Save Password
Forgot your Password? | Admin Options

 All Forums
 The Back Porch
 Open Topic
 The Nightly Vigil
 New Topic  Reply to Topic
 Printer Friendly
Previous Page | Next Page
Author  Topic Next Topic
Page: of 165 Lock Topic Edit Topic Delete Topic New Topic Reply to Topic

Ailinn
Windchimer

2197 Posts

Posted - 10/05/2019 :  16:02:36  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
High meadow in the glen. Lake hidden by mountains under blue blankets of snow. Raptors gliding over the Old Ones. Sage. Smoke medicine. Ghost music. "What happened?" she says. He says, "Sticks and stones." Boat low in the water. Creak and shiver. Fog prowl.
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

2197 Posts

Posted - 10/05/2019 :  16:09:54  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Pirates. Sea gypsies. Siege on the waves. Blushing lanterns on Bankers Hill. Rough wooden benches off India where the story heats the room. "In the beginning... There was the tuna...!" Raucous shouts. Loud fists on the table. The bottle passed around. A man with scars on his back is staring out into the street. Tinsel rain. Low clouds. Storm smeared with a palette knife. Pieces of sky showing through. Star in the harbor. Rocking.
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

2197 Posts

Posted - 10/05/2019 :  16:28:46  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"...am I hypnotized...?" she laughs, "...under your spell...?" "Don't open your eyes 'til we get to the bus station part..." he says, and places a log on the grate. "Strangers pack my trunk. Leave out the important things. Harlequin doll and music box. Wildflower trading cards. A tool that plugs in and gets hot enough to burn images in wood. A surly girl from Tarrytown walks me down a long hall. Saints on the walls. Doors that lock from the outside." Saturday slides into Sunday. Dawn on the sill. She's so sleepy. "...man on the riverbank with a small can of fire... Shows me how to use a bobby pin on a locked door. Says he once worked on Wall Street but he's happier now living in a cloud of forsythia." "Show me how you do that," he says.

Edited by - Ailinn on 10/17/2019 11:48:08
Go to Top of Page

buckman
Firefly

USA
2825 Posts

Posted - 10/11/2019 :  00:37:15  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Did you think it was all just magic
Or maybe just another dream?
They say
There's no such thing as coincidence
But at the time that's how it seemed
The words were true when we said them
We flew without coming down
Somewhere down the street there's music playing
But these days I don't hear a sound.

Did you think it was all just magic
Just a trick with smoke and tears?
The headlights show the road ahead
But I live in the rear view mirror
A friend came by yesterday
He asked me how you were
I said I don't really know anymore
I never hear from her.

The magic was in the moonlight
The magic was in your eyes
The magic's in the way we go on
When the heart just wants to die
The magic takes the brass
And turns it into gold
The magic keeps the memories alive
To warm you when you turn old

I never wrote that song that night
I never got it done
I promised you so many things
Before my legs forgot how to run
Full moon rising thru the clouds
Like a teardrop in the sky
The only time that's wasted
Is the time spent wondering why

Did you think it was all just magic
Just a trick I did with smoke and tears?
The headlights show the road ahead
But I live in the rear view mirror
A friend came by yesterday
He asked me how you were
I said I don't really know anymore
I never hear from her.



Go to Top of Page

buckman
Firefly

USA
2825 Posts

Posted - 10/14/2019 :  18:30:20  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
You can't be Too strong...

They tell me I need to make a "fearless moral inventory" and seek forgiveness.
There are some sleeping dogs in dark corners I don't want to or have to kick.
There are some movies that come back on their own, nite after nite,
a running dialog with myself and whatever Gods are still listening.
There are some things I don't want forgiven, wanting the
sharp edge of their memory cutting me, shaping me,
forging me over the coals.

The basement in Pittsburgh, huddled in filth,
hiding from The War...
The beach in California where I "died."

His body on the road.
Her face when I told her.

Saying goodbye to Martina, laying in a bed
in the back of a truck.

The abuse heaped upon the ones I loved
and myself.

The selfishness, the cowardice, the weakness, the stubborness.

The turning away,
the lost years,
the rivers crossed at nite in the darkness...

Maybe someday I will find that there really is
A God that forgives...
For now, it's up to me to have the courage to
leave behind the failures and move on
with strength...

You can't be Too strong...



Go to Top of Page

buckman
Firefly

USA
2825 Posts

Posted - 10/14/2019 :  18:33:38  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply


Been So Long At The Fair

Itís halfway through October
The storyís almost told
About a child who wanted everything
About a child who dreamt so bold.
The book of days dwindle down
The years of memories fade
The colors swirl Ďround
The cards have all been played.

Skies are mostly grey these days
Trees are nearly bare
Nights are turning colder
The childís been so long at the fair.

There were fire breathing dragons and
Enemies oh so tall
There were maidens young and fair
To be escorted to the balls.
There were journeys of untold miles and
Battles won and lost
There were glasses raised in triumph
Never stopping to count the cost.

Skies are mostly grey these days
Trees are nearly bare
Nights are turning colder
The childís been so long at the fair.

Itís halfway through October
The storyís almost told
About a child who wanted everything
About a child who dreamt so bold.
The book of days dwindle down
The years of memories fade
The colors swirl Ďround
The cards have all been played.

Hank Beukema Copyright revbuckman music October 2019



Edited by - buckman on 10/14/2019 18:34:58
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

2197 Posts

Posted - 10/16/2019 :  18:41:14  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Days gone by...

Sandpaper wind. Faraway mountain tops melting. Eyes closed. Soot-smudged lashes. Flames fluttering under their lids. Loud thrum in the ground when the first wires come down. Pinon pine. Red Brome. Star Thistle. The devil's scorched shoes stepping closer.
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

2197 Posts

Posted - 10/16/2019 :  18:46:26  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"...this life..." he says. "Episodic," she says. Emeril's poaching fish on TV. She's beating eggs in a copper bowl. He's barefoot. Curious and hungry. "Random... But not accidental," he says. "How many are you making?" "A dozen," she says. He says, "Oh, good." "Two dozen," she says. Sudden sun floods the stone floor. "Hahaha! We're no strangers," he laughs.
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

2197 Posts

Posted - 10/16/2019 :  18:53:14  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Thread Rock Road. Hairpin turns. No guard rail on the cliff side when he cuts the engine and lights a cigarette. He traces his brow. Places the thought there. "...imagine for a moment..." he says. "Museum of dreams," she says. The one-beat look from him. "What I see..." she says. Horseshoe cove where shells collect after weather. Blues caught under his brush. Salt-swept eucalyptus. The canvas he keeps covered. Knights and windmills. Pistol in the drawer. Star fields where the chimeric fog breaks. "Where the reeds change color at the water's edge..." he says, "...the bottom sand seems seamed with gold."
Go to Top of Page

buckman
Firefly

USA
2825 Posts

Posted - 10/21/2019 :  07:32:22  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I saw her again one night a few weeks ago
Dancing drunk to an acoustic soul band
At 3 AM

She was barefoot and was the only one
Dancing and she was dancing
All crazy and free like
Somebody at Woodstock or something

Later I saw her crying off by herself.
The liquor had worn off and she
Remembered that her boyfriend had
Done something again that nite to hurt her

God I love the passion of the young...



Go to Top of Page

buckman
Firefly

USA
2825 Posts

Posted - 10/21/2019 :  07:36:13  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
She appeared suddenly out of the darkness.

Glow of a fire from far off down the beach.
Tangy taste of saltwater on her lips,
hair slick and shiny in the moonlight.
Curve of hip against the ocean backdrop,
arms encircling bare backs.
Breathing coming in gulps,
her voice growing huskier.

Laying entwined in the sand,
legs around legs, arm over chest,
she asked me if I had remembered
to turn off the coffee pot.



Go to Top of Page

Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5446 Posts

Posted - 10/24/2019 :  02:19:18  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I'm breathing prayers
In the room where you're sleeping.
The old ways of love.

DL
Go to Top of Page

buckman
Firefly

USA
2825 Posts

Posted - 10/29/2019 :  06:30:51  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
In the deep part of the night,
where the darkness growls and the heart bleeds...
I scream your name.



Go to Top of Page

buckman
Firefly

USA
2825 Posts

Posted - 10/30/2019 :  23:20:09  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
1970. Nebraska. Singing The Boxer to the stars while she slept in the back of the car.



Go to Top of Page

buckman
Firefly

USA
2825 Posts

Posted - 10/30/2019 :  23:24:10  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
1971. Valley Forge. Snow up to the knees, thumb out. Finally a ride in the back of an old hearse. I laid down in the back, crossed my arms and melted.


Go to Top of Page

buckman
Firefly

USA
2825 Posts

Posted - 10/30/2019 :  23:27:15  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
1972. We ditched the car that took us from Sacramento to the east somewhere in Philadelphia and ran for the train.
Iím still looking back...


Go to Top of Page

buckman
Firefly

USA
2825 Posts

Posted - 11/02/2019 :  07:46:43  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
SPILL THE WINE...... and run

Spill the Wine was on the jookbox
in the ice dream parlor in 1971.

A not on the map gathering in the Utah desert
between the highway and Zion Canyon,
Hurricane, Utah looked at us like
a scene from Easy Rider.
Teenagers treating us like rock stars,
older men with faces of death [for us].

My friend got a room for a dollar,
I went to spread a little NY love
to the fans.

We had a great time
until the gun shots.
She said it was just
her brothers out looking for her.
A kiss goodbye and I left my jacket and boots
behind and headed for the canyon.
Went thru Vegas, Disneyland and
up the coast to San Francisco barefoot.

I forget which Chinese philosopher said it,
It is far better to lose your boots
than to feel a bullet in the head.

I agree, but, damn, I loved those boots.



Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

2197 Posts

Posted - 11/04/2019 :  20:59:36  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
-A shift on the reservation. Rain with an heirloom edge. Lightning at his shoulders. Way to say something sad. Key in its secret place over the lintel when the light is on.

-Stars press against the windows of the tribal hall. Shaman and Curandero. Dark circle of birds in the sky. Censors in their slow cold wings. It must be Winter.

-For those who believe in the epiphany in dreams... Wind-pleated ground where his boots touch down. Biblical dust. Copal burning. Juniper and sage in abalone bowls. Far across the valley she rises. Ghosts remain seated when they move toward each other.


Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

2197 Posts

Posted - 11/04/2019 :  21:11:43  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"...why you saw it that way...?" he says leaning in. "His love for black and white," she says. "How he'd fling his arms about shouting, 'Conspiracy of light! What it hides and surrenders!' His camera, a portal. Prophetic. His portfolio, disturbing. Dark. Central Park figures eerie in fog. You couldn't take your eyes away from them. Their breath. Subway stations like catacombs. Grey rainbow low over Angel of the Waters. The fountain's innocence gone." He's quiet for several moments. "How old were you then?" He asks a lot of questions. She asks questions too. New truths and a swamp in his stories.
Go to Top of Page

buckman
Firefly

USA
2825 Posts

Posted - 11/09/2019 :  06:26:20  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
1970. Death Valley. I was with two gorgeous Israeli ex military women. I figured I was either going to get lucky or killed. We were tripping in a Mustang at 100mph and 100 degrees... I did not get killed.


Go to Top of Page
Page: of 165  Topic Next Topic   Lock Topic Edit Topic Delete Topic New Topic Reply to Topic
Previous Page | Next Page
 New Topic  Reply to Topic
 Printer Friendly
Jump To:
Mickey Newbury Web Board © 2003 Mickeynewbury.com Go To Top Of Page
Snitz Forums 2000