Author |
Topic  |
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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
2829 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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buckman
Firefly
    
USA
2829 Posts |
Posted - 04/28/2011 : 19:14:49
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I am so weary of disappointing them. I've seen how they look every dawn for so long I can't remember a time before they came.
The time of the demons seems long past, but I can tell you that it is sometimes as bad to be haunted by angels...
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Ailinn
Windchimer
   
2217 Posts |
Posted - 04/28/2011 : 20:28:56
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"Demons," he said, "They wake me up in the middle of the night. They haunt me." I had his long yellow pads and a telephone line that snaked around walls in the warehouse. A flare of light where the roll-up door met the dock. A makeshift desk and a Brita pitcher of water. I'd answer the phone and he'd start singing or saying a poem. Sometimes, "Get your head clear. Is it clear now?" before he'd read the pages. Often he'd switch subjects in the middle of a line. "...here, talk about this now..." Kaleidoscopic, his mind. Carnival lights on a rain-streaked windshield. I had to write very fast to keep up with him. And many copies because he kept changing things. "Shhh...here's more..." he'd say, "hahaha. Two tin cans and a thousand miles of string." |
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Craig
Firefly
    
Kyrgyzstan
3793 Posts |
Posted - 04/28/2011 : 21:08:37
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quote: Originally posted by Ailinn
"Demons," he said, "They wake me up in the middle of the night. They haunt me." I had his long yellow pads and a telephone line that snaked around walls in the warehouse. A flare of light where the roll-up door met the dock. A makeshift desk and a Brita pitcher of water. I'd answer the phone and he'd start singing or saying a poem. Sometimes, "Get your head clear. Is it clear now?" before he'd read the pages. Often he'd switch subjects in the middle of a line. "...here, talk about this now..." Kaleidoscopic, his mind. Carnival lights on a rain-streaked windshield. I had to write very fast to keep up with him. And many copies because he kept changing things. "Shhh...here's more..." he'd say, "hahaha. Two tin cans and a thousand miles of string."
If I could put time in a bottle... |
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buckman
Firefly
    
USA
2829 Posts |
Posted - 05/01/2011 : 14:14:23
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The insidiousness of evil and the day to day insanity of life can bring a person to their knees.
Sometimes it's not a bad place to be.
It all depends on what you're kneeling to and If you get back up. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
   
2217 Posts |
Posted - 05/01/2011 : 20:12:14
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"If I get drunk or if I pray either way I'm on my knees."
*
"You are broken only if you break."
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buckman
Firefly
    
USA
2829 Posts |
Posted - 05/05/2011 : 03:31:26
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She took all of the stars down out of the sky and gave them to me and I put them in a bottle and drank them all. Left a very dark sky.
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rodeo
Swinger
  
USA
733 Posts |
Posted - 05/09/2011 : 09:53:04
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If I could (have) save(d the) time (I lost) in a bottle. written by: Jim Croce (written by): (rjr)
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Edited by - rodeo on 05/09/2011 11:04:07 |
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buckman
Firefly
    
USA
2829 Posts |
Posted - 05/14/2011 : 05:01:53
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I miss front to back to front again just to prove we could. I miss the smell of a dream of a memory, in the backyard burning wood. I miss most evrything the law allows and in between the lines, She was too much in this world I was too much in this time. She said, Things can't continue long this way. I said, Little by little they don't. There's so many things I've never done But not too many that I won't. The valley runs red and gold again Winter's right around the bend Blue blue skies and cold cold nights Hearts and souls need time to mend. A coyote sings Harvest Moon in the woods beyond the yard, I hum along with the melody the words come too damn hard. I climbed the ladder the best I could, I slipped on that last rung. Her memory's left the back of my mind And gone straight to the tip of my tongue. I miss most evrything the law allows and in between the lines, She was too much in this world I was too much in this time. The valley runs red and gold again Winter's right around the bend Blue blue skies and cold cold nights Hearts and souls need time to mend. Hank Beukema revbuckmanmusic 2010 |
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Doug L
Firefly
    
Canada
5446 Posts |
Posted - 05/14/2011 : 08:42:05
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THE ROAD TO SINTALUTA
Weary Greyhound station The unwashed wait in line I'm bound for Sintaluta town See a friend of mine The pumped-in muzak murders One more sixties' song We're late for our departure What's taking them so long A woman kisses her new beau He can't help but grin For love or Sintaluta I am on the road again
No need to tag my baggage I've learned to travel light Offer me the whole buffet I'd settle for a bite The driver's from Alberta Sips his cherry coke Says he smokes a pack a day But doesn't like to smoke We're passing by a graveyard Old granite in the rain Death or Sintaluta I am headed back again
Small town depot, three a.m. These milk runs ruin sleep Boy and mother hug goodbye The mother starts to weep He takes the seat beside me Twelve, maybe thirteen Says he's going to Regina To see his aunt Irene Says he's gonna live there I don't ask him to explain We're all going somewhere, kid And fall asleep again
Swift Current before sunrise Time to grab some food Six dollars for a devilled egg Waitress in a mood My pal in Sintaluta She grew up in this town Kids, of course, a long divorce Always moved around I share my sandwich with the boy The snow turns back to rain Two hours to Sintaluta I'm wide awake again On the road to Sintaluta Snow turns back to rain
DL |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
   
2217 Posts |
Posted - 05/14/2011 : 21:06:41
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He painted her portrait on the patio of a cliff hotel overlooking Acapulco Bay. Posed in a white wicker chair with her tanned legs tucked under, her canted hip against a summer pillow. Her slim, ringed fingers splayed on the tabletop like a restless five-spoke wheel. He painted her shelter-eyed, wary. A hesitant heart. He painted the gravity necessary to hold them in place. Later he said, "They'll bring something fragrant and distracting. Something lit or piled high on the plate. They'll place the food on a decorated table under a canopy of palms. They'll need help serving this meal. Anonymous waiters will appear. Blank as a fresh-stretched canvas. When we raise our glasses the shots will ring out. Part of everything happening in the mortal world. Am I right, baby? Does that sound right to you?" |
Edited by - Ailinn on 12/09/2015 11:23:14 |
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aussiedave
Swinger
  
Australia
509 Posts |
Posted - 05/19/2011 : 03:19:30
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NO GUILE
was he a man of temperance? honest? innocent? shy?
his very presence always went unnoticed.
was he a man of dignity? strong? loyal? discreet?
attributes that never attracted a second glance.
was he a man of essence? faithful? resolute? timid?
these are questions that remain unanswered.
< >
he was a man who had no guile--another had said.
unworldly,
"I don't know you" he said, but they were words spoken in kindness,
the guileless one, this naive' man listened, said nothing, but loved deeply instead.
he remains an enemy of the world.
dR April 2011 |
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Craig
Firefly
    
Kyrgyzstan
3793 Posts |
Posted - 05/19/2011 : 17:48:36
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quote: Originally posted by aussiedave
NO GUILE
was he a man of temperance? honest? innocent? shy?
his very presence always went unnoticed.
was he a man of dignity? strong? loyal? discreet?
attributes that never attracted a second glance.
was he a man of essence? faithful? resolute? timid?
these are questions that remain unanswered.
< >
he was a man who had no guile--another had said.
unworldly,
"I don't know you" he said, but they were words spoken in kindness,
the guileless one, this naive' man listened, said nothing, but loved deeply instead.
he remains an enemy of the world.
dR April 2011
Miss you, pal. |
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buckman
Firefly
    
USA
2829 Posts |
Posted - 05/22/2011 : 17:36:30
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I sit in the dark in the back of the cafe.
I barely exist.
The little identity I had existed within the gun and the bottle that always lay on the table before me and no longer do which was why I barely exist.
But something new and different may emerge; familiar, but tougher.
May even leave the cafe...
Manana.
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Becka
Sitter

95 Posts |
Posted - 05/25/2011 : 13:54:39
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May even leave the cafe ? ? ?
Nah... can't imagine that! |
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Bill Smith
Windchimer
   
2390 Posts |
Posted - 05/27/2011 : 07:58:33
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"In the ancient world people placed heavy stones on the graves of their dead so their spirits would not wander and afflict the living. I always thought that this was simply the practice of superstitious and primitive people. But I was about to learn that the dead can hover on the edge of our vision with the density and luminosity of mist, and their claim on the earth can be as legitimate and tenacious as our own."
Dave Robicheaux speaking in the movie, "In the Electric Mist." |
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buckman
Firefly
    
USA
2829 Posts |
Posted - 05/29/2011 : 08:30:07
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There are nights you never forget for all the right reasons; and then there are the nights like the one underneath a late August yellow moon where a mistake becomes an unforgiven sin and the search for redemption haunts the rest of your days... |
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Bill Smith
Windchimer
   
2390 Posts |
Posted - 05/29/2011 : 23:19:17
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and then there are the nights you can't remember the next day and they might have been some of the best nights who knows ... |
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Becka
Sitter

95 Posts |
Posted - 05/30/2011 : 07:36:37
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Bill, Some of those night are better left forgotten. Some of them, I remember, but won't admit to..... |
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