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buckman
Firefly
USA
2872 Posts |
 Posted - 06/05/2011 : 11:02:15
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It started as a dime a dance romance
Underneath a quarter moon
Her eyes asked me When and
My hands gently answered, Soon.
Angels in the treetops were singing
A song about A long road home
The wolf's long tears he was crying
About an old man too tired to roam
Desperation and gloom get the best of us
Madness can be a place to rest
It's after the scores are all settled
It's after the sins are confessed
It started as a dime a dance romance
Underneath a quarter moon
Some moments outlast forever
Some moments are gone all too soon.
The Gods say you'll never be back, love
But I'm hearing that same old tune
I've got my dime and we've got the time
And tonight there's a quarter moon...
I'm dancing and dreaming again love,
Hearing that lonesome old tune
I've got my dime and we've got the time
And tonight there's a quarter moon...
Hank Beukema revbuckmanMusic 2011
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San Diego
Swinger
515 Posts |
Posted - 06/05/2011 : 18:35:30
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...in the path.
My coast-to-coast family surprised me Saturday at 7am. 101 Diner's Bomb Breakfast and down to Imperial for Surf Dog Championship. Purple sunglasses on a golden retriever. Yellow rubber ducks glued to the board. Buddy, the winner in small dog category barking all the way in.
For two days we had music and marathon cooking. Folks laughing and outdoing each other with can-you-top-this stories of Stu. My daughter-in-law Kelly calls Stu the Pied Piper because he walked the beach with a long bamboo pole and we all trailed along behind him. Many pictures of our rag-tag parades.
My son David stepped out on the patio in his dad's leather jacket. "Can I take this home with me?"
"So you changed your phone number five times in five months...you don't answer anyway. Except to lie to us because you think we're far enough away." He says this all casually holding my hand looking out to sea. The sun had set. It was getting cold. He pulled up my collar and put his arms around me. In his father's jacket he's so tall and warm.
One of my grandsons ran up then, "C'mon, RoRo. Uncle Jon says we have to walk in the path." We all trekked single-file down the beach past fire rings glowing like earthbound stars. |
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Jonmark
Windchimer
USA
1791 Posts |
Posted - 06/05/2011 : 20:04:43
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A late prop drones into Palomar, the pilot's eye on the wave rolling in.
I have one of my uncle's flight jackets. It's too big for me but I wear it anyway. It's kind of a comfort knowing I could never fill it.
All my love to you Ro. |
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San Diego
Swinger
515 Posts |
Posted - 06/06/2011 : 20:37:10
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Jonmark, In my heart you're a giant.
Love to you and Bree from KCRQ.
Ro |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2872 Posts |
Posted - 06/13/2011 : 19:48:40
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There are ghosts behind the house tonight
They're partying in the woods
She warned me not to leave her
[As if I ever could]
Strangers shout my name in the street
They're knocking at my door
She thinks she's gonna find me
Passed out on the floor.
Too many voices talking in my head
Too many wanting to be heard
If she'd sing me the melody
I know I could find the words
They're dancing in the moonlight
keeping me awake
Is she an angel or a devil
Is a feeling I can't shake
Gods and Generals call me
all trying to spread the Word
I used to be an eagle
Now I'm just a tiny bird
Too many voices talking in my head
Too many wanting to be heard
If she'd sing me the melody
I know I could find the words
I stumble thru the rocks and leaves
to where I saw the light
It;s gotten so quiet now
they left without a fight
The ones I've loved, the ones I've lost
Come back again in songs
There's so much in life that's good
It's just taking so damn long
Too many voices talking in my head
Too many wanting to be heard
If she'd sing me the melody
I know I could find the words
If she'd just sing me the melody
I could find the words.
Hank Beukema revbuckmanmusic 2010. |
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Becka
Sitter
95 Posts |
Posted - 06/22/2011 : 21:57:50
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Hank,
I like the old and new alike....
Good stuff. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2249 Posts |
Posted - 06/26/2011 : 13:31:50
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| We meet at Chang's at The River where the widowed and dispossessed drink organic Margaritas waiting on their take-out. Crispy Green Beans and Dynamite Shrimp. Chicken Flatbread and Northern Style Ribs. "I come here to study," Marcella says, raising an ironic eyebrow. She moved down the road by the beautiful Rancho Mirage Library. "I've given up grief because the sun here is so damn distracting. Like my RA therapist says, 'Miss Mar, don't you harsh my mellow'." She's in a Creative Writing Class and hands me the journal I gave her in 2008. At the crowded bar a retired ophtalmologist from Ventura tells us he once held the record for cataract surgeries performed in one year. "By the way," he says, "you have surreal vision." I don't disagree. He has a pale racoon mask where his sunglasses won't let him tan. Maybe later he'll walk Marcella home. Maybe one day they'll share Sweet and Sour and the Class Clown Lectures at the library in late July. Bob Hope and Sid Caesar. I have a long switchback ride up and over the harsh Santa Rosa's. The shy bighorn sheep. The rough wooden cross and plastic lilies at Carrizo Road turnout. An ocean at the end of the line and Marcella's cursive single-spaced pages. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2249 Posts |
Posted - 06/26/2011 : 13:39:09
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Surreal vision. The Dinosaur Truck Stop off the 10. Water skiing in the Mojave. Hot-soup Cheyene Lake in Newberry Springs 7-to-7 vigil at the Bagdad Cafe with a grain of grit in your eye. Any Checkpoint deal where you buy what comes in through the window and pay for waiting in line.
Easy roads to drive off of. SR 74 and 111. 66 at Newberry Springs. Well, now... |
Edited by - Ailinn on 05/21/2013 12:55:53 |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2249 Posts |
Posted - 06/30/2011 : 17:39:01
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| Adam winks. The fate-sealed we're-in-this-together moment. His peppery grin and to-be-continued shenanigans. Oh, Eve's got her hands full with that kettle of applesauce simmering on the camp stove and calamitous love in The Garden. |
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Doug L
Firefly
Canada
5446 Posts |
Posted - 06/30/2011 : 18:21:23
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"And there's times I think I see you
When I find the kind of face
Where a woman's independence
Has kept a woman's grace
Where confidence and pride
Refuse to know their place
Or hide behind the easy tricks
Of beauty"
~Brian McNeill ('Strong Women Rule Us All') |
Edited by - Doug L on 06/30/2011 18:21:42 |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2872 Posts |
Posted - 07/07/2011 : 16:04:46
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There were mountains and rivers
and sculptures on lawns
Days sparkled with laughter
Nights flowed with song.
Those first days of love
Take your soul for a dance
Those first nights in love
Whisper eternal romance.
[Part of me has given up
The rest of me has quit
Life used to hold me
like a coat from the cold,
Now it barely fits]
Sunrise over the Hudson
The blue sky broke my heart
A mile from where he was born
A bright flash was brought down to a spark.
This river runs both ways to taunt me
I love her and hate her most days
Like me she's wild and wandering
Most mornings shrouded in haze.
New love blossoms just like the flowers
Two people feeling their way
The blindfolds fade slowly,
It all feels so holy
You talk of forever and a day.
The movie runs nightly
He still shines so brightly
But it's somebody else's door.
The one way thru it is to
keep moving forward
and keep in sight of the shore.
[Part of me has given up
The rest of me has quit
Life used to hold me
like a coat from the cold
Now it barely fits]
There were mountains and rivers
and sculptures on lawns
Days sparkled with laughter
Nights flowed with song.
This river runs both ways to taunt me
I love her and hate her most days
Like me she's wild and wandering
Most mornings shrouded in haze.
Most mornings shrouded in haze
Hank Beukema revbuckmanmusic 2011 |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2249 Posts |
Posted - 07/07/2011 : 20:04:44
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The sun sets on Costera Miguel Aleman. Louvered light on the honey-glazed bay. They're drinking blue anejo from crooked green glasses on a patio where Double Delight roses explode.
Tijuana. Crowded Avenida Revolucion. Widows and orphans with liquid eyes. Petal hands full of Chicklets and grime. Decades of rosaries won't save them.
Ensenada. Off Lopez Mateos, street stalls with open grills. Charred lobster in blistered corn shells. Berettas and Black Talon ammo. A pyramid of limes.
Acapulco. Armored souls in the sad Cathedral. Christ crying in His crystal crib.
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Edited by - Ailinn on 01/18/2013 16:49:54 |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2249 Posts |
Posted - 07/07/2011 : 20:07:23
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| The rubies he hammered into her ears ride on her lobes like beacons. Like flares on a runway, like the 4th of July. "Gold buttercup setting," he said. How metal holds her. |
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Becka
Sitter
95 Posts |
Posted - 07/07/2011 : 20:22:26
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Mr Buckman....
This river runs both ways to taunt me
I love her and hate her most days
Like me she's wild and wandering
Most mornings shrouded in haze.
The word "shroud" reminds me of death but death is absent from these lines. This piece is full of life. Excellent writing!!
You've done it again!
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2249 Posts |
Posted - 07/10/2011 : 16:48:06
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Front page Los Angeles Times:
Tolls on the FREEway. $1.40 per mile for the HOT lanes on Interstate 10.
"Out on that long stretch..."
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2249 Posts |
Posted - 07/10/2011 : 17:11:30
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Big Mama's hanging out by the No Loitering sign by the grease pits at Vandal's Garage. Working her homeless repertoire on a couple of conventioneers. Down the block Mister Menace is hawking salvation on the corner of Fairfax and 3rd. The Celtic cross inked on his forehead makes him look like a medieval bard. He's soon knighted at The Grove where the AD's with clipboards are jammin' on caffeine. At the dumpsters they're diving for cans. Kids off to Resurrection Recycling third time before noon. It's a great day at the Farmer's Market. The sun is complicit and the tourists are thirsty and the gangs are agreeing back of DuPar's. A Music Express Limo rolls by with the celebrity of the hour. Air kiss, air kiss, air kiss. "We'll do lunch, baby. Ciao. Don't change!"
Citrus skies at the ocean end of town. Sea-worked glass. Mostly green. "...this picture..." he says, "...won't come out. It's only for our real eyes." A late walk beside cliff-hanging blossoms. The mute fortune teller talks to The Sailor in Sign. The stars up for hours, a lemon breeze in the chimes. The moon's slanted silver. Coming down. |
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rodeo
Swinger
USA
733 Posts |
Posted - 07/11/2011 : 12:43:02
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quote:
Originally posted by Grania
Dear Reverend B-
"I sit in the back of the Cafe, in the dark, where no one can see me...I see it all, I hear it all..."
Your first post on the old Blue Board back in the grace of POe days.
Lets dance.
...they care not a
bit about Eternity, but only for today...
But, that is Just Alright
with me and the Lord
If everybody went to heaven they'd run out of room.... Rev Buckman
:-) |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2872 Posts |
Posted - 07/13/2011 : 03:07:58
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rodeo
Swinger
USA
733 Posts |
Posted - 07/13/2011 : 08:20:08
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What came between,
"I sit in the dark in the back of the saloon..."
and
"If everybody went to heaven they'd run out of room.... "???
[quote]Originally posted by buckman
I sit in the dark in the back of the saloon...
What is between my table and the dusty
street is twenty feet that is
on the very edge of Hell...
The townspeople say they are sinners: the townspeople say they are evil...
The reality is that they are just Cowboys and
they are very much alive and much of the
rest of this town has already died... I talk to
the Lord and I Know what is Evil
and what is not,
which is why I hold services here and
not in a church....
These men make a decision
every time they put the whiskey to their
lips, every time they put the
tobacco to their mouths....
They make a decision between a
longer, duller life or the life
that they are choosing to live....
Yet I can see the desperation in
their eyes; I can see
that for every year that they age,
they remove themselves another year from their
childhood and their youthful dreams...
I can see that the only time
They will smell the
fragrance of a lady is
when they choose to pay for her...
I can see that they care not a
bit about Eternity, but only for today...
But, that is Just Alright
with me and the Lord
If everybody went to heaven they'd run out of room.... Rev Buckman
My, my, y'all(yeah, I'm southern).."...what a long strange trip it's been."
So, I'm looking back on old posts...
I broke my foot, OK?...
"they shoot horses...don't they?"
trivia ???...Horace who???? |
Edited by - rodeo on 07/13/2011 09:32:52 |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2872 Posts |
Posted - 07/14/2011 : 18:36:50
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His eye may be on the sparrow
but some don't get a glance.
Kneeling on the road he asked
For another try at a second chance.
The wind it whispers memories
Of the moonlight and the boy.
He can hear that aching melody
Sing of loss and sing of joy.
Why does it seem some children
Get so far lost before they're found?
Fallen angels crying for mercy
Too scared to make a sound.
The anger and the sadness
Drown out the call of grace
Redemption visits a time or two
In the end there's not a trace.
Amazing how it spirals down
Once you start to lose your way.
The melodies and words get old
No new notes left to play.
The crooked roads, the shadowed halls
Seem normal for awhile
Stumbling thru the streets and alleys
Faces dying for a smile.
Truth be told, a battered heart
Can leave the ground and fly
The moment it leaves the hole it's in
Is the moment it hits the sky.
There's magic weaved into every day
It's in evry breath we take
A hero's role is in each of us
It's in the choices that we make.
His eye may be on the sparrow
but some don't get a glance.
Kneeling on the road he asked
For another try at a second chance.
The wind it whispers memories
Of the moonlight and the boy.
He can hear that aching melody
Sing of loss and sing of joy.
Why does it seem some children
Get so far lost before they're found?
Fallen angels crying for mercy
Too scared to make a sound.
Too scared to make a sound.
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The Nightly Vigil