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Karen Runk
Firefly
USA
4925 Posts |
 Posted - 05/02/2006 : 21:43:15
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Reminds me a song: Down There by the Train. written by Tom Waitts
excerpt:
"If you've lost all your hope, if you've lost all your faith
I know you can be cared for and I know you can be safe
And all the shamefuls and all of the whores
And even the soldier who pierced the side of the Lord Is down there by the train
Down there by the train
etc.etc. etc.
Karen Runk |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
1895 Posts |
Posted - 05/03/2006 : 22:10:51
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| The shuttered dark comes down to surround them. The wicks are trimmed. The candles lit. It's midnight. Angels fold their frisson wings and sing. |
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Karen Runk
Firefly
USA
4925 Posts |
Posted - 05/03/2006 : 22:16:56
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I need to get a dictionary for my desk. 
Nighty night, Ro
Karen Runk |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
1895 Posts |
Posted - 05/04/2006 : 20:59:28
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| Sweet dreams, Karen. Happy Cinco de Mayo to you and the Porch. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
1895 Posts |
Posted - 05/06/2006 : 18:36:01
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| Any place you come in is a good place. Even if the beach is fog-bound. Even if you don't know the land where you're touching the ground. The sacred trees leaning seaward. The trumpet vine supporting the cliffs. It's not drifting out that's dangerous. The tide will bring you back in. It's not knowing where the bottom is. Churning in the wave. Trying to get enough breath before you're caught in the next one. The board is attatched to your ankle with a leash. It floats. It can also hit you in the head. The trick is knowing when to kick free. An instinct your balance relies on. Today's surf was choppy. Breaking close to the shore. Paddle out. Snap up. Ride in quick. Or wipe out and eat some sand. We ate a lot of sand. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
1895 Posts |
Posted - 05/06/2006 : 18:40:21
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| "...above the treetops looking down. Can you see it?" he says in the Farmers Market off Rancho Santa Fe Road. He's talking about flying. Not sure it's a dream anymore. Her hands hover above the produce. A magic onion for this stew. "Hahaha," he'll say. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
1895 Posts |
Posted - 05/06/2006 : 18:42:03
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Love is all that matters. Ignorance with love is better than wisdom without it.
~Mickey Newbury~ |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2705 Posts |
Posted - 05/07/2006 : 21:19:18
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He tried to find his way
Out of the darkness
He tried hard he really did
Drowning in an ocean of pity
He'd done evrything
To keep it hid
He's had enough of evrything
He's had enough of his fears
He's letting go and letting it out
He's thru drowning in his whiskey tears
The road was dark and
There were no signs
Just the headlights from his car
It didnt matter he knew the way
He didnt have to go very far
He stopped the car
Walked across the grass
He laid down on her grave
He talked for an hour
Til the sun came up
There was nothing left to save
He's had enough of evrything
He's had enough of his fears
He's letting go and letting it out
He's thru drowning in his whiskey tears
He told her it was over this time
It was over and it was done
His back was right up against the wall
There was nowhere left to run
This morning is the last time
Its the last time is what he said
He stood up brushed himself off
Walked away and shook his head
He's had enough of evrything
He's had enough of his fears
He's letting go and letting it out
He's thru drowning in his whiskey tears...
Hank Beukema - BarbSong Publishing 2006
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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Ailinn
Windchimer
1895 Posts |
Posted - 05/08/2006 : 19:56:12
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| His time was brief, yet he let no grief assail him. Not in his nature. He so loved the Sunday outings. Breakfasts by the sea. Carnival kites rising from RVs staked out on the sand-blown Pacific Coast Highway. The Powers That Be were trying to kill squirrels in Encinitas. Because they wanted to build a 75 million dollar resort on top of the bluff. The squirrels were undermining the cliff. They said. The squirrels were well fed. Fat and furry. He called them by name when they ran to him. Standing on their hind legs in a circle. They held their paws like they were saying Grace. He spoke to them in their squeaky language. Fed them their Sunday usual. Crackers with cruncy peanut butter inside. Thj Lifeguards tossed Costco popcorn and Padre peanuts. |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2705 Posts |
Posted - 05/09/2006 : 19:24:48
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Horse's Moon
At twilight
We rode away from the setting sun
Directly into the rising full moon...
I could see the reflection of
My horse's face in it and
Glimpsed the shadow of sadness...
She had come to realize that
I could never love her completely...
It never affected her work...
Rev Buckman
[Hank Beukema - BarbSong Publishing 2006]
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Ailinn
Windchimer
1895 Posts |
Posted - 05/10/2006 : 18:47:37
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| He sits with his friends. Their feathers spread out on the curb. Determined to grow tomatoes. Heirlooms. He's got the plants. The special nutrient soil. The cone cages that will blossom into futuristic multi-colored-red cities. "We need a universal hand-signal for HELP! here," she says. He agrees. May days late sunsets. In the wings the cast of characters assemble. The curtain rises. The moon behind them blooms. Now he's falling asleep in slow-motion. Dreams distilling to something pure. "...story I wanna tell you..." he whispers in the dark. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
1895 Posts |
Posted - 05/11/2006 : 21:51:01
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| His moon-bright window. His hand at her throat. They talk in their sleep after midnight. A tapestry unweaving through silhouette trees. The same dream for centuries. The brass box. The tall ship engraved on the lid. The scrolled map inside where she breathes beside him in the dark. |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2705 Posts |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2705 Posts |
Posted - 05/12/2006 : 18:07:05
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Is anybody keepin track of this?? I know that I have nobody left, but I would hope that Ro...um, Ailinn, would have somebody writing this stuff down..... Otherwise , this is is it folks. read it and then move on.....H
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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Ailinn
Windchimer
1895 Posts |
Posted - 05/13/2006 : 16:22:58
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| Dear Hank, Since our first waltz you have been most kind. Thank you. This is simply a promise kept. And you're part of it. And all who rock on this Porch. As always, it is a privilege to be here. Love and blessings to The Wizard. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
1895 Posts |
Posted - 05/13/2006 : 16:31:06
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| He left the ship anchored of Knells Harbor. Rowed up Rio Sueno to Escondido Cove. There he pulled the boat in under the sacred trees protection. The old blazed grove shone around him. The journey had taken longer than he planned. A century or two longer. '...now, a moment...' he thought as he laid his cloudy head down. His folded uniform jacket for a pillow. The braided epaulets frayed and unraveling. The tarnished thread already weaving itself into the ground. The tall Pampas grasses stirred and swayed. The fog stretched it's long fingers across the shore. His tall ship, a cradle rocking silently in the harbor. Her cloth, black. Her mast, ebony. How long he slept...or was he still sleeping? He wasn't sure. He watched the amber lantern moving quickly through the trees. |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2705 Posts |
Posted - 05/14/2006 : 17:21:26
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The horse came back to me tonite...
Came from behind
Nudging me
Head down, pawing the ground...
I said, Baby girl,
The secrets we keep from each other
Are the same ones we keep from ourselves...
Don't take it personally, OK?
Rev Buckman
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2705 Posts |
Posted - 05/14/2006 : 18:11:36
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An hour after the horse came back
I could hear Carmelita limping
Up to my room...
I said that I had gotten so tired
Of not hearing a voice that
I had been talking to myself for three days...
I said that I had decided that
Evry poet is a warrior and
Evry warrior a poet...
And she looked at me with that black hair
And black eyes that I would have died to see
Just once and said...
Shuttup, Preacher,
Lie down and please,
Just shuttup...
Rev Buckman
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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Doug L
Firefly
Canada
5434 Posts |
Posted - 05/14/2006 : 21:14:05
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it may not always be so; and i say
that if your lips, which i have loved, should touch
another's, and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart, as mine in time not far away;
if on another's face your sweet hair lay
in such silence as i know, or such
great writhing words as, uttering overmuch,
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;
if this should be, i say if this should be--
you of my heart, send me a little word;
that i may go unto him, and take his hands,
saying, Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands
e e cummings
visit http://www.myspace.com/dukelang |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2705 Posts |
Posted - 05/15/2006 : 18:34:46
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I smelled the vanilla
Before I felt her touch...
She had come to me in
The darkened room
While I lay alone thinking
Of a new poem...
As Carmelita silently settled
On top of me, she said
Feels like home, eh, Preacher?
Another poem lost forever to a woman...
Rev Buckman
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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The Nightly Vigil