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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 12/15/2018 :  20:21:45  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
In the time between sleeping and waking the mural appears. Crowded with faces. Trees with dark branches. A wooden boat tethered to a dock in one corner. An antique dresser with mirrored doors in the center of the boat. A woman reaching out from the mirrors. Her image split in two. Water warps the wall and spills over the mural's edge onto the floor. A man stands in a puddle with a brush in his hand. The crowd of faces recede. The trees brighten. The woman steps down from the painting and takes the man's hand. Out on the street it starts to rain.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2872 Posts

Posted - 12/17/2018 :  17:20:04  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply


It's as easy as breathing to fall into love
But, how do we climb back out?
Their hearts weren't meant to be broken
Crushed by the shadows of doubt
He'd told her he was far past any point
There was nothing more to prove
She said don't lie to me and yourself
Truth is you've got nothing to lose.

Their worlds were tumbling in motion
At different and frantic speeds
Never time to think about wants
Each lived according to needs
A soul starts out with everything
It needs to travel the road
One scared little heart is all we get
Made of flesh and blood not gold

Her eyes held the songs unwritten
Her spirit was flaming and bold
He's an old man who sits by the campfire
and cries when the ashes turn cold
Music was made, debts never paid
The piper doesn't work for free
No regrets, not a one, just shadows of dreams
Where real love becomes a memory

It's as easy as breathing to fall into love
But, how do we climb back out?
Their hearts weren't meant to be broken
Crushed by the shadows of doubt

Music was made, debts never paid
The piper doesn't work for free
No regrets, not a one, just shadows of dreams
Where real love becomes a memory



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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 12/24/2018 :  15:10:01  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
His name was Melvyn but everyone called him Red although his hair was white then. They'd see his van in the old market parking lot, or VG's when they needed a donut fix. He built wooden boats in a rented barn a couple of miles from the house. That winter when he'd disappear for several days they'd drive over with something warm in a basket. Apple cider cake was his favorite. The barn was high-sided and cold. He built his boats from cedar and oak. He burned avocado for heat in a wood stove. He had a Goodwill sofa and a bent willow rocker as big as a throne. He always had the coffee pot on. The moted light and fragrance cast the right spell for stories. Wanderers. Fisherman's tales. Ghosts and gators in the Okefenokee. Back when San Diego developers were buying up all the coastal land for gated communities. When he got the notice he packed up and moved back to Clearwater, Florida with his sister, Rene and four nephews. Boatbuilders all in the Sunshine State where the squall line comes in under lightning and thunder.

Edited by - Ailinn on 07/25/2020 18:07:14
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2872 Posts

Posted - 12/29/2018 :  14:35:08  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
”It's Hell to die ugly like this.”
That's what she said to me.

I didn't think that and nobody else did,
but she did and that's what mattered to her.
She always loved having looks.
She strutted with it.
She flew on it.
The sickness took it long before time did,
but she carried it right up until almost the end.

It was the last birthday before she died.

We made love for the last time
For the first time in a year.
She felt herself as old and tired and ugly and
I loved her slow and sweet in the dark,
Like when we were younger and both
Full of life and beauty...

She cried and whispered,
“Thank you.”



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buckman
Firefly

USA
2872 Posts

Posted - 01/01/2019 :  22:05:33  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Consolation prize.
Almost a winner.

Tearing down Rt 66 in 1972
past the rusted Fords and the dirt side roads
leading to lives I would never know.
Heading back East with someone I barely knew
who would consume the next twenty years of my life.

Too young to slow down long enough to listen to anybody.
Old enough to know better...

Lost her in the sun.



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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 01/02/2019 :  21:25:03  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The woman who cut the children's hair has opal-blue eyes and a cast on her right foot. She has a job where she stands all day. "Sit," she says, "we can chat." She tells me she has "a serious Starbuck's addiction...but I've made a resolution. Be easier if it wasn't just two doors down," she shrugs. She has photos of two young women in caps and gowns at her station. "I was married in a borrowed dress I gave back. My father-in-law found my engagement ring in Two Guys parking lot. I changed my name and didn't look back. A cheerful wife. Never sane," she laughs. I lost him to an asthma attack. He had the twins in the car with him. Thank God he was parked." She takes a long sip of her Americano. "He's outside of Oakland fifteen years now. I did it for his mother." On our way to the door she calls me back and hands me a recipe card. "Starbuck's Cranberry Bliss Bars. They only make them at Christmas so I bake my own. Don't leave out the ginger," she says. Her eyes the brightest thing in the still-decorated shop. I wish I could talk to you about her. You'd tell me we were good friends in another life.

Edited by - Ailinn on 11/20/2019 15:19:40
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 01/02/2019 :  21:32:19  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
And in Anaheim... Coming this Summer. Disney's $185 million Star Wars Galaxy's Edge. Black Spire Outpost on the planet Batuu. Opening day prediction...eight to ten hour wait-line to get in. Six hours for E-Ticket rides. Blue milk served at Bantha Tracks. May the force be with you.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2872 Posts

Posted - 01/05/2019 :  17:42:38  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
There's a certain sound a heart makes
When it starts to break apart
Some say it happens little by little
Some say it's there from the start

The Indians take their fables
and make them into a special tea
It takes their eyes inside themselves
But it blinds them when they see.
The only thing I wanted to learn
Was to enjoy the passing of time.
It turns out while it was passing
I was learning to lose my mind

They stood in a circle around a fire
Jumping in and out of the sparks
The leader was a large man
Painted and very dark
He called me by my rightful name
and ordered me into the arc
The magic words were spoken
Then everything went dark

There's a certain sound a heart makes
When in starts to break apart
It ends up roaring in your ears
But it's quiet at the start
Like a freight train moving slowly
Building speed along the way
You find yourself alone again
With nothing left to say

There's a moment when a heart breaks
You can almost mark the time
It happens when it comes to you
That there's no reason left to rhyme
When there's no way left to make it work
No magic that's not been tried
When a soul and body go separate ways
Nobody knowing why.

There's a certain sound a heart makes
When it starts to break apart
Some say it happens little by little
Some say it's there from the start



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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 01/10/2019 :  17:31:44  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The temperature stays the same for months. 76 in the daytime, 67 at night. "...tough being a weatherman in San Diego, hahaha..." They play the weatherman game. Tiffany and Blaine.

Today, January 10th, 2019. 12 foot waves at Swami's. High surf advisory until 10pm. Winter wets recommended. Air 67. Water 61. Back to you, Blaine...
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 01/10/2019 :  17:48:12  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Winter sinking into the ground. Tissue-frost on the groves. His shirts numb with cold in the closet. In the middle of the long poppy dream their stopped hearts start again. The sea tilts. The fog clears. Spindle light over the water. Sky brazen blue the way he likes it. The compass inside him tugs on the line. An inlet through unruly flowers. The garden beguiling before knights or saints or shamans.

Edited by - Ailinn on 01/20/2019 17:23:45
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 01/10/2019 :  17:53:02  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
They're in it now. "The spread-open fan of memory..." Flicker light on the beach roads. Fog lifting on gulls wings. No centerline logic where the coast curves. The story in Rainy Wind Font. First a plink then a spatter. Stars floating in puddles. Bare feet. His gaze running up and down, "...let it go where it's gonna go..."
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2872 Posts

Posted - 01/10/2019 :  19:41:32  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Here?

I was sitting on the French girl’s mattress
On the floor at 3 AM, coming down.

The thought that I might
Never be able to write again
Came to me, slowly, like a cold coming on.

Then she got up and walked naked
To the bathroom.

Sitting on the toilet in the dark,
she was shy and
Made a joke.
I said, LeeLee,
Poetry is all around us,
isn't it?

She said, Ici?



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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 01/13/2019 :  17:45:54  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Three Houses.

When they arrive they find the shovel by the back door. Local wine and two loaves. A nest of woven baskets for the pantry. They roll up their sleeves and set to work. He's imaginative. And mechanically inclined. His eyes behind smoke. His hands deft and steady. Flagged patio stones he levels with water. "...and a little landing pad..." he grins, placing a flat rock in the center of the birdbath. He believes certain inanimate objects have "presence... What we need to keep near us..." The step-up room with the easel. The window with northern light. Sevres Green. Prussian Blue. Naples Yellow.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 01/13/2019 :  17:55:35  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Tipped back in his gravity-defying chair, "...think we could find it?" he says. She says, "Like two homing pigeons." That's when he stands. Picks her up and swings her across time. Dirt trail through the grace-lit Santa Monica's. Copse of trees on the ridgeline. Small house. Broken side rails of the miniature bridge. Loose stones in rushing water. RESTRICTED CONSTRUCTION SITE posted. City of angels spread like a grid below them. Unaware of the spirits that play there.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 01/13/2019 :  18:00:04  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Candles burning in a stained glass window. Cramped slant letters on the antique desk. Coast to coast area codes. His words with question marks hypnotic as jasmine. His elastic clock's odd hours, "...jus' waitin' for us to catch up..." The tyranny of time ticking down like a firing squad.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2872 Posts

Posted - 01/13/2019 :  22:25:59  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply

He said he did it for the wife and the kids
And he got so close he could taste it
But the old man in the mirror
Caught his eye and he said
It's long past time that you faced it.
You sang it all wrong,
Yeah, you wrote the damn song
But all you ever did was waste it.

He sees them kissing in the park
He sees them driving through the dark
Memories so strong he can taste her
But then he hears the refrain
All you gave them was pain and
He knows he can never replace her.

He said he did it for the wife and the kids
And then he spent every bit of their savings
But the old man in the mirror
Caught his eye and he said
But
You never stopped feeding your cravings.
You sang it all wrong
Yeah, you wrote the damn song.
Now you walk the streets all night raving.

He sees them tossing the ball on the lawn
He sees the Yankees, a child's picture drawn
The boy's face lights up then goes dim
But then he hears the refrain
All you gave them was pain and
He knows he can never replace him.

He sees them kissing in the park
He sees them driving through the dark
Memories so strong he can taste her
But then he hears the refrain
All you gave them was pain and
He knows he can never replace her

The old man in the mirror
Caught his eye and he said
It's long past time that you faced it.
You sang it all wrong,
Yeah, you wrote the damn song
But all you ever did was waste it.




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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 01/18/2019 :  18:07:51  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"You've done this before...?" he says. "Many times..." she says. "Just take a deep breath and give yourself up to the ocean. Better yet, close your eyes." The run down Grandview stairs. The last minute leap into the maelstrom. Swept away from the crumbling cliffs and eucalyptus boulevard. Leave earth behind. Pilgrims at the top leaning over the rails with their mouths wide open.

Edited by - Ailinn on 03/21/2020 18:16:31
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2872 Posts

Posted - 01/19/2019 :  16:19:06  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I said to her,
”They're more than just memories, they're the story.

You are the only one that will know your story,
from the beginning to the end, start to finish,
hospital to dirt. Nursery to ashes.

You write the script and choose the music
but somebody else directs the show and calls the ferryman.
The key is finding who or what they are.
A delicate balancing act...”

She said,
“Be careful there,
You almost dropped a memory or two.”




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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 01/20/2019 :  17:21:21  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Winter-cold stories. Slow-burning stars. Nights before leaving. Plans and candles. When smoke reaches the wall it climbs upward. Soft smudge of soot there. How you come to be who you are.

Edited by - Ailinn on 01/28/2019 18:30:08
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 01/20/2019 :  17:32:17  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
She knows it will be Summer again. The ocean content to stay on its side of the Coast Highway. Sun in his face. Shoulders freckling up. His wistful gaze upon the water. Hansen Surfboards low plane over waves crashing at Moonlight and Ponto. 30% off!!! banner trailing. When he shades his eyes to look up a hundred sudden wings in the sky.
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