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andrew p
Firefly
    
USA
3936 Posts |
Posted - 12/11/2005 : 09:17:12
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Hank my Brother...huggin' ya right now. andrew |
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buckman
Firefly
    
USA
2825 Posts |
Posted - 12/11/2005 : 11:12:48
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For Barbara Josephine Willis:
I pushed the horse out past the town, out to where I had buried her...I didn't come out here too often, but today I needed to talk to her, to tell her what I had done... Any success you have in this life is only satisfied when you share it with someone you care about.... Today I had made them run; made them afraid to ever come back... They will see the look in my eyes for the rest of their lives and they will remember it... They will see the difference between what they worship and what I worship and see why I will always be stronger... And I had come to say goodbye; good bye to her and to the life we had known together, and to this piece of land where I had put her body....
The snow is falling around me now, and the sound of the woods has changed as I ride... Riding away from her.... Riding away from them.... I am a slave to the tobacco in my pouch and the whiskey in my bags, but I will be a slave to no man or woman ever again.... The choices have been made for me this time, but I have learned how to make them work in my favor... Today I can ride with no guilt, I can ride with no pain; the lands that I see in the skies over the next mountain are the lands where I will spend my next days... My horse breathes the cold air and carries me onward... Ever onward we shall ride…
I look around at the thick trees and the little creek and realize that I have been riding in circles... I take the saddlebag with the whiskey and throw it into the creek... I keep the tobacco... If you are to ride away from something, Preacher, you must ride Away from it, not encircle it with your feeble pace.... Throw off your baggage and ride with the wind; God knows, there is no reason not to... There is so much more behind you than you are apt to meet up ahead that there is nothing or no one to fear anymore... Your strength and resolve, what little you have left, is not of your making, it has come from somewhere else, but it carries with it a price, a responsibility that you have ignored for too long now...
It is snowing again, as I get down off the horse.... I listen to the music coming from the creek and feel the old fever starting to rise... I throw off the hat and heavy coat and begin to sing and dance around the trees... As I spin around and around, I see the faces from my past coming out of the moonlight........ And they are smiling..... All is as it should be....
I have come to the river to pray.... It should have been raining.... I felt the sun on my face as I left the woods, and the horse and I rode over the crest of the hill and saw the river again for the first time.... My River... Our River.... Where it had all started.... Being here now without her would be like all the years I spent before her, seeking my peace and comfort in the river, except that now I would be missing a piece of my soul.... The inland town that we had gone to was behind me now; the gamblers, the ramblers..... the dead.... I would seek to find my faith again, here where I had found it in the first place, here where I was raised half a century ago before the world had turned upside down.... I have come to the river to make my confession, to seek my salvation, to see if there is any future here for one such as I, left without a heart, but still full of seeking, still full of purpose, still full of the belief that I am powerless without the help of a power outside and above myself....
It turns colder as the sun descends behind Hook Mountain and leaves me in the darkness... once again... It seems that the darkness has become my friend just like the rain... For one that has not lived the life that he was expected to, has not fulfilled the promise that was foreseen for him, has not lived in the light as he had vowed..... The faith has never left..... The belief in the power of the Blood has been there from the start and is there now, to this day.... The Father, the Son, the Man.... I have come to the river to pray....
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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Edited by - buckman on 12/11/2005 12:14:57 |
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Doug L
Firefly
    
Canada
5446 Posts |
Posted - 12/11/2005 : 12:34:14
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He manages like somebody carrying a box that is too heavy, first with his arms underneath. When their strength gives out, he moves the hands forward, hooking them on the corners, pulling the weight against his chest. He moves his thumbs slightly when the fingers begin to tire, and it makes different muscles take over. Afterward, he carries it on his shoulder, until the blood drains out of the arm that is stretched up to steady the box and the arm goes numb. But now the man can hold underneath again, so that he can go on without ever putting the box down.
Michiko Dead, Jack Gilbert
Hold to that river, Henry.
visit http://www.betterdaysradio.blogspot.com |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
   
2197 Posts |
Posted - 12/12/2005 : 21:09:09
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She's naturally secretive so he takes her into the forest where no light hits the needled ground. There they practice. Observe the crows and ravens. He shows her where to place her feet pivotally on a log, "...or curb if you happen to be in a city. Just flex your knees and you're up," he says. And she is. "Don't close your eyes, now," he says, "but move your hands and feet like you're treading water." He slips his cupped palm under her elbow and takes her above the trees. Through the healing, eucalyptus-flavored air. Now they're able to see the red ground at the edge of the ocean where the corporate growers have pulled the tomatoes down. "Late this year," he says, and points to the dark mountains of wood the stacked stakes make. And the ten-lane-wide 5 beside fields with ribbons of lights coming and going. "Not the landing strip," he tells her. |
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booty
Sitter

USA
93 Posts |
Posted - 12/12/2005 : 21:23:10
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A red rose And a briar Together we grow A humming bird draws its sweetness In a moment it's gone --But oh the bloom.
Booty |
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booty
Sitter

USA
93 Posts |
Posted - 12/12/2005 : 21:35:20
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A lovely girl, a handsome boy unknown Into a man a woman they may grow Maybe to the point of genius While some may be left a little shy And obviously they come in all sorts and sizes --But there is a place Where they're served a generous portion By an unselfish Madre D D, should I stutter You get my drift leading To laughter and singing through one's inhibitions Having no rhyme or reason And some needless to say or quiet old -- Where a good time is had by all And in this coming together undifferentiated I guess you'd say One learns in time -- just down the road Not very far at all There is hope In the making of a singular place -- unto which we tread.
Booty |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
   
2197 Posts |
Posted - 12/14/2005 : 19:01:47
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"One learns in time-- just down the road Not very far at all There is hope In the making of a singular place-- unto which we tread."
A beautiful thought. Thank you, Booty! |
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booty
Sitter

USA
93 Posts |
Posted - 12/14/2005 : 22:16:56
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Ailinn....thanks -- I'm trying but mine doesn't come easy.
Walk with me in the heat of the day among the cool water where beautiful flowers grow. Along green banks birds will adorn the yellow popular, beech, and red woods that reach to the sky. Through vulgar gorges with jagged rocks we will go dashing unscathed from here to there flowing free, oh so free, from a seasonal stream unknown -- to an ever more expansive sea.
Booty |
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booty
Sitter

USA
93 Posts |
Posted - 12/14/2005 : 23:07:55
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Blown by the wind a foul incense That wayward turn, an unseemly appetence. The wind imparts, the wind dispense And natures amiss, amiss from thence.
And wary will not swain as I Unknown to Olympian heights where Campbell muse Commercing civil liberties that erudite ply Between assent and doubt, and refuse.
Lest higher does he the ingrained rove To passion's winnowing touch Unchaffed out there to wisdom's distant cove Would sentient beauty ev'r stay as such.
The Levantine wind blows as it conceives And bliss is born to sail on inherent argosies.
Booty |
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buckman
Firefly
    
USA
2825 Posts |
Posted - 12/15/2005 : 04:43:47
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"Far off, The world falls like a bomb towards Its own destruction. I have Ceased to hear it. I no longer Have any theories about it. I no longer have any Philosophy. All of my Capacity for tragedy Is exhausted. I tread softly, Listening to the earth in the Moonlight. Peace flows without stopping. The peace is illimitable The clear glory is without end."
Kenneth Rexroth
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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booty
Sitter

USA
93 Posts |
Posted - 12/15/2005 : 20:44:59
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Unnoticed A small bird Lay dazed Unable to fly. Becoming aware Conscious of the pain A skyward beauty Flew high above On its majestic flight. (The tender meaningfulness winds up under.)
The little bird's wings wast broke.
Booty
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Doug L
Firefly
    
Canada
5446 Posts |
Posted - 12/17/2005 : 00:49:39
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They put up road-blocks They dimmed all the signs They planted cannons They mined the squares Where are you, love? After you disappeared we became The love that screams We became the distances For the happy days we longed The days of staying up on the road The long walks The rendezvous at the old restaurant
O love of Beirut, O love of days They will come back, Beirut Our days will come back
It is the second summer Since you vanished The moon is broken Is it true you may forget me My defeated love? I went back to my house My house was not there Only smoke and twisted beams No rose and no fence
O love of Beirut, O love of days They will come back, Beirut Our days will come back
-this is a translation of a lyric sung by legendary Lebanese singer, Fairuz, written by her husband, Assi Rahbani
visit http://www.betterdaysradio.blogspot.com |
Edited by - Doug L on 12/17/2005 00:51:34 |
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buckman
Firefly
    
USA
2825 Posts |
Posted - 12/17/2005 : 04:23:16
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"Jesus Was An Only Son"
Jesus was an only son As he walked up Calvary Hill His mother Mary walking beside him In the path where his blood spilled Jesus was an only son In the hills of Nazareth As he lay reading the Psalms of David At his mother's feet
A mother prays, "Sleep tight, my child, sleep well For I'll be at your side That no shadow, no darkness, no tolling bell, Shall pierce your dreams this night"
In the garden at Gethsemane He prayed for the life he'd never live, He beseeched his Heavenly Father to remove The cup of death from his lips
Now there's a loss that can never be replaced, A destination that can never be reached A light you'll never find in another's face, A sea whose distance cannot be breached
Well Jesus kissed his mother's hands Whispered, "Mother, still your tears, For remember the soul of the universe Willed a world and it appeared
[Bruce Springsteen] |
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Craig
Firefly
    
Kyrgyzstan
3793 Posts |
Posted - 12/17/2005 : 04:32:43
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"Poetry too is a little incarnation, giving body to what had been before invisible and inaudible."
cs lewis |
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buckman
Firefly
    
USA
2825 Posts |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
   
2197 Posts |
Posted - 12/17/2005 : 18:54:53
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A ghost ship rocking in the harbor. A full moon pulling the tide. He is waiting in the bow searching the coastline. He lowers the skiff soundlessly. Leans easily into the oars. Brings the boat in under the sacred trees conflagrant green. When the stars go high he arrives at the gate. Unlocks the days travail. Steps through the blue door and makes the cut. Blends the blood ineffably. |
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booty
Sitter

USA
93 Posts |
Posted - 12/17/2005 : 22:05:41
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Thoughtfulness
May you always think of today and will your world a better place. To those unfortunate dark times reflect on them as a lovely rainbow after a bad storm. To think all sad yesterdays long past and an unfavorable tomorrow of no concern wills then today that only you alone can bring to a happy end. Then as time shall surely pass and things go afoul to lay waste all you hold dear, it will always be the more reason to have given yourself and have forever to enjoy just your one today -- that make so many lonely happy.
Booty |
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buckman
Firefly
    
USA
2825 Posts |
Posted - 12/18/2005 : 10:24:05
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Booty, please continue to join us here.... I love your writing and look forward to seeing it here in this special little room.... Hank
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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Ailinn
Windchimer
   
2197 Posts |
Posted - 12/19/2005 : 20:10:41
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In Durrow's font she writes the tale. Dragons and mythical birds appear. Bright-eyed and long-taloned. He lifts the lid on the chest with its ancient, Celtic symbols. The dust of past centuries holds them in thrall. See how the Angels tremble when he hands her the bow and the quiver. His tempered sword and burnished suit of mail. |
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buckman
Firefly
    
USA
2825 Posts |
Posted - 12/20/2005 : 20:54:59
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Martina asked me if you could hear the sound of One heart breaking If there was no one there to care... I said that the movement of the air from One hand clapping could cause a Hurricane on the other side of The Earth.... She said What little mind you had left When I first met you Has gone totally mad...
I said, Yes, I've noticed, But it's the only charming quality I still have...
Rev Buckman
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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