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Jonmark
Windchimer
USA
1791 Posts |
 Posted - 10/19/2009 : 22:02:55
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Nice. |
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Karen Runk
Firefly
USA
4925 Posts |
Posted - 10/20/2009 : 09:45:47
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I hope you keep this in your files, Craig, for your children and g.children to read. This is great reading.
We all need to write things down about our childhood and pass it on. I must do that.....one of these days.
Karen Runk |
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Craig
Firefly
Kyrgyzstan
3793 Posts |
Posted - 10/20/2009 : 18:09:57
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The lives we live today are a result of what was written in our childhoods.
Craig |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2818 Posts |
Posted - 10/25/2009 : 16:40:10
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It's been quite awhile, my darlin
Since we first took those long river walks
Past the shops down in Garrison
When I first heard the way your eyes talked
I think it was the start of the romance
When you put your mouth close to my ear
You whispered Forever, it's only forever
I've waited for you to appear
Are they still serving beers down at Guinan's?
Do the ladies still dance Irish nite?
Do you think we can waltz by the fire
Do you mind if I turn down the lights?
La da da, da da da, la da da dee
La da da, da da da, la da da doo
La da da, da da da, la da da day
La da da, da da da, la doo....
We push and we strain, we run thru the rain
Trying to find the right one
There's no way to name it, no way to claim it
But getting there's half of the fun
Are they still serving beers down at Guinan's?
Do the ladies still dance Irish nite?
Do you think we can waltz by the fire
Do you mind if I turn down the lights?
La da da, da da da, la da da dee
La da da, da da da, la da da doo
La da da, da da da, la da da day
La da da, da da da, la doo....
Hank Beukema - revbuckman music - 2008
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BarbraG
Windchimer
1824 Posts |
Posted - 10/28/2009 : 21:38:05
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The funeral procession advanced slowly into the cemetery
where he was to be buried. What a life he had lived !!
The celebration had just begun. He had brought so much
joy to everyone he had met, taking nothing and giving
everything. He was a man of the modern West, but he had
always dreamed of living in the days of Bill Hickock and
Wyatt Earp, with both guns blazing to stamp out those who
would take from others and who would kill to get it.
His hearse was painted like an Indian pinto pony. Friends
thought him a bit eccentric. Family adored him, knowing
that the man in the pinto hearse was the best man, husband
and father in the world. His legacy was the good he had
done with the fortune he had amassed over the years. He
had been a driving force in the lives of so many who had
started out with nothing... His family was so proud of
him.
"The evil that men do live after them ; the good is oft
interred with their bones."
Time would tell, as the celebration of his life began to
unfold on that snowy afternoon.... just a week ago today.
BGee
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Craig
Firefly
Kyrgyzstan
3793 Posts |
Posted - 10/29/2009 : 20:44:22
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Only write what you know. They'll know it when you lie.
Be careful who you tell your secrets to...
Craig |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 10/31/2009 : 18:09:15
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-for Craig.
"...and no sunglasses after midnight..." |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 10/31/2009 : 18:14:33
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It was a long time ago and a cold night when they crossed the River Shannon. In the denser light of Durrow they trod the cobbled shore. Up the hill to the house he invented. Feathers poking out of the quilt on their high iron bed. A bed they had to climb up into. "Forget time and what rhymes with it, Lady," he cautioned.
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 10/31/2009 : 18:22:16
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| A spectral fog rolls in on the coast of southern California. The stones turn and murmur under the sea. The moon taps its slender foot impatiently. His chair makes a scraping sound when he rises. She doesn't ask what brings him to his feet so abruptly. He's been sitting there quietly for centuries. The guttering candles in cups in the corner. The shuttered window and watery light. His one hundred reflections in the mirror in the middle of the night. The touched hand...the barrier broken...his walking shoes waiting beside the totem-edged shore. |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2818 Posts |
Posted - 11/01/2009 : 06:02:14
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I said to Melinda,
I SO much disagree
with the notion of
"if I could do itallagainIwouldn'tchangeathing"
that it makes me just
a little nervous even turning
the clock back an hour.
She said,
I think I'd do it again, though
and just change
a few moments...
Yeah, I hear that, I whispered.
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2818 Posts |
Posted - 11/01/2009 : 06:04:16
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Melinda said to me
You know it's not that big a leap
To think we might grow old together...
I said, it's beginning to feel more like
We might grow young together...
After I knew she was asleep
I sang Way Over Yonder in the Minor Key
Into her silent ear...
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rodeo
Swinger
USA
733 Posts |
Posted - 11/01/2009 : 16:23:09
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She said,"It's hard for me to see how one little boy got so ugly".
I say, "Thank the Lord for little girls who love ugly boys".  
rjr |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 11/01/2009 : 16:53:18
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| He stands at the campfire watching the bonnet-tops of the wagons disappear into mirage. She hastily unpacks her rescued trousseau. A star falls. Some shards of broken moon. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 11/01/2009 : 16:56:59
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| A talisman, an amulet, a pebble in his shoe. Won't let him sleep sleepwalking. The dream distilling until he steps through a hole in November's sky. Now they're dancing out on the rain-slick street. His damp cheek against her cheek. |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2818 Posts |
Posted - 11/07/2009 : 07:46:53
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A tourniquet for the heart.
Wounds that no longer bleed.
Dreams with no visions.
Trees with no leaves.
Still digging underground
searching for the sunlight. |
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rodeo
Swinger
USA
733 Posts |
Posted - 11/15/2009 : 16:04:15
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Cauterized by time
Deeds cause no pain and no strife
The wounds… part of life
Threw it all away
Choosing to go on alone
Doubt’s ugly head…gone
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BarbraG
Windchimer
1824 Posts |
Posted - 11/15/2009 : 19:17:00
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Cruisin'. After midnight on unlit streets in the sad
part of town. Notice I said 'sad' and not 'bad'. Hungry
children trying to sleep. In my own little town. I feel
so guilty, having enough to eat and never having been
hungry. Local churches turn their heads toward Haiti or
Africa to minister to hungry children. What about the ones
in their own back yard? I don't get it. I just don't.
Is it me? We are flying over mission fields to get to
mission fields. There is enough money in my town to
take care of these children and allow them to believe that
America is a good and safe place to live. These hungry
babes are not the future of America ... they are the past.
BGee |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2818 Posts |
Posted - 12/06/2009 : 18:27:26
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So I said to Planet Melinda
while sitting in the first basement
of Trump Tower waiting for Ralph [the Hudson River Bipolar bear]
to come out of Tiffany's
[it's a long story; not now]
Do you hear Bob Dylan singing
The First Noel, real faintly?
She said, I can't hear anything
with the Australian sitting
across from you yelling at you.
What did you do to him?
I said, Nothing, I was just making faces
in the general direction of his wife,
thinking she was hearing the Dylan too
and was wondering if it was only us
that had gone nuts or if others
heard it too...
So whadda you think?
She said, I think Ralph better
come out of Tiffany's real quick
or you're gonna have a Vegemite
sandwich up your ass.
It's good to have the Polar Bear back. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 12/06/2009 : 19:57:40
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| Haloed street lamps. Gleam on all the glasses. A ragged fog on Route 1. Leap of faith, he says. She says, You bet your boots, Boy. The long wick wavering between them when the waiter lights the candles. He knows she'll steal the grape-shaped bottle small enough to fit in her pocket. She'll set it on the shelf by the window he looks out of every day. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 12/10/2009 : 17:17:53
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| Driving in sunlight was most of it. His elbow out the window freckling up. The map on the dashboard holding true to its code. Yesterdays in the rear-view mirror. Eternal tomorrow around the next bend. The movie looping over his profile. The miles running out of breath. They found themselves under the moon and stars in the lunar Tamarisk Grove. Divine triangulation. Sand swirling around the mesquite. The season changing. The night turning cold. The lights from Ranchita disappearing. She held on to him. So reliably alive. His breath and fingerprints everywhere. |
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Topic |
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The Nightly Vigil