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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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The Nightly Vigil