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buckman
Firefly
USA
2872 Posts |
 Posted - 10/14/2019 : 18:33:38
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Been So Long At The Fair
It’s halfway through October
The story’s almost told
About a child who wanted everything
About a child who dreamt so bold.
The book of days dwindle down
The years of memories fade
The colors swirl ‘round
The cards have all been played.
Skies are mostly grey these days
Trees are nearly bare
Nights are turning colder
The child’s been so long at the fair.
There were fire breathing dragons and
Enemies oh so tall
There were maidens young and fair
To be escorted to the balls.
There were journeys of untold miles and
Battles won and lost
There were glasses raised in triumph
Never stopping to count the cost.
Skies are mostly grey these days
Trees are nearly bare
Nights are turning colder
The child’s been so long at the fair.
It’s halfway through October
The story’s almost told
About a child who wanted everything
About a child who dreamt so bold.
The book of days dwindle down
The years of memories fade
The colors swirl ‘round
The cards have all been played.
Hank Beukema Copyright revbuckman music October 2019
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Edited by - buckman on 10/14/2019 18:34:58 |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2249 Posts |
Posted - 10/16/2019 : 18:41:14
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Days gone by...
Sandpaper wind. Faraway mountain tops melting. Eyes closed. Soot-smudged lashes. Flames fluttering under their lids. Loud thrum in the ground when the first wires come down. Pinon pine. Red Brome. Star Thistle. The devil's scorched shoes stepping closer. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2249 Posts |
Posted - 10/16/2019 : 18:46:26
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| "...this life..." he says. "Episodic," she says. Emeril's poaching fish on TV. She's beating eggs in a copper bowl. He's barefoot. Curious and hungry. "Random... But not accidental," he says. "How many are you making?" "A dozen," she says. He says, "Oh, good." "Two dozen," she says. Sudden sun floods the stone floor. "Hahaha! We're no strangers," he laughs. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2249 Posts |
Posted - 10/16/2019 : 18:53:14
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| Thread Rock Road. Hairpin turns. No guard rail on the cliff side when he cuts the engine and lights a cigarette. He traces his brow. Places the thought there. "...imagine for a moment..." he says. "Museum of dreams," she says. The one-beat look from him. "What I see..." she says. Horseshoe cove where shells collect after weather. Blues caught under his brush. Salt-swept eucalyptus. The canvas he keeps covered. Knights and windmills. Pistol in the drawer. Star fields where the chimeric fog breaks. "Where the reeds change color at the water's edge..." he says, "...the bottom sand seems seamed with gold." |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2872 Posts |
Posted - 10/21/2019 : 07:32:22
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I saw her again one night a few weeks ago
Dancing drunk to an acoustic soul band
At 3 AM
She was barefoot and was the only one
Dancing and she was dancing
All crazy and free like
Somebody at Woodstock or something
Later I saw her crying off by herself.
The liquor had worn off and she
Remembered that her boyfriend had
Done something again that nite to hurt her
God I love the passion of the young...
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2872 Posts |
Posted - 10/21/2019 : 07:36:13
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She appeared suddenly out of the darkness.
Glow of a fire from far off down the beach.
Tangy taste of saltwater on her lips,
hair slick and shiny in the moonlight.
Curve of hip against the ocean backdrop,
arms encircling bare backs.
Breathing coming in gulps,
her voice growing huskier.
Laying entwined in the sand,
legs around legs, arm over chest,
she asked me if I had remembered
to turn off the coffee pot.
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Doug L
Firefly
Canada
5446 Posts |
Posted - 10/24/2019 : 02:19:18
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I'm breathing prayers
In the room where you're sleeping.
The old ways of love.
DL |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2872 Posts |
Posted - 10/29/2019 : 06:30:51
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In the deep part of the night,
where the darkness growls and the heart bleeds...
I scream your name.
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2872 Posts |
Posted - 10/30/2019 : 23:20:09
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1970. Nebraska. Singing The Boxer to the stars while she slept in the back of the car.
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2872 Posts |
Posted - 10/30/2019 : 23:24:10
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1971. Valley Forge. Snow up to the knees, thumb out. Finally a ride in the back of an old hearse. I laid down in the back, crossed my arms and melted.
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2872 Posts |
Posted - 10/30/2019 : 23:27:15
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1972. We ditched the car that took us from Sacramento to the east somewhere in Philadelphia and ran for the train.
I’m still looking back...
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2872 Posts |
Posted - 11/02/2019 : 07:46:43
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SPILL THE WINE...... and run
Spill the Wine was on the jookbox
in the ice dream parlor in 1971.
A not on the map gathering in the Utah desert
between the highway and Zion Canyon,
Hurricane, Utah looked at us like
a scene from Easy Rider.
Teenagers treating us like rock stars,
older men with faces of death [for us].
My friend got a room for a dollar,
I went to spread a little NY love
to the fans.
We had a great time
until the gun shots.
She said it was just
her brothers out looking for her.
A kiss goodbye and I left my jacket and boots
behind and headed for the canyon.
Went thru Vegas, Disneyland and
up the coast to San Francisco barefoot.
I forget which Chinese philosopher said it,
It is far better to lose your boots
than to feel a bullet in the head.
I agree, but, damn, I loved those boots.
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2249 Posts |
Posted - 11/04/2019 : 20:59:36
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-A shift on the reservation. Rain with an heirloom edge. Lightning at his shoulders. Way to say something sad. Key in its secret place over the lintel when the light is on.
-Stars press against the windows of the tribal hall. Shaman and Curandero. Dark circle of birds in the sky. Censors in their slow cold wings. It must be Winter.
-For those who believe in the epiphany in dreams... Wind-pleated ground where his boots touch down. Biblical dust. Copal burning. Juniper and sage in abalone bowls. Far across the valley she rises. Ghosts remain seated when they move toward each other.
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2249 Posts |
Posted - 11/04/2019 : 21:11:43
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| "...why you saw it that way...?" he says leaning in. "His love for black and white," she says. "How he'd fling his arms about shouting, 'Conspiracy of light! What it hides and surrenders!' His camera, a portal. Prophetic. His portfolio, disturbing. Dark. Central Park figures eerie in fog. You couldn't take your eyes away from them. Their breath. Subway stations like catacombs. Grey rainbow low over Angel of the Waters. The fountain's innocence gone." He's quiet for several moments. "How old were you then?" He asks a lot of questions. She asks questions too. New truths and a swamp in his stories. |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2872 Posts |
Posted - 11/09/2019 : 06:26:20
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1970. Death Valley. I was with two gorgeous Israeli ex military women. I figured I was either going to get lucky or killed. We were tripping in a Mustang at 100mph and 100 degrees... I did not get killed.
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2249 Posts |
Posted - 11/16/2019 : 16:34:34
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| Melvyn builds boats in a barn with a wood stove and Goodwill sofa. A complicated man who makes a "superior" pot of coffee. His work is precise and beautiful. The most sought after man in the marina. He once taught, "...upstate someplace." Maybe Marine Biology. We're all content without specifics. He has a niece named Janey he's crazy about. Has me mail letters to her in St. Petersburg. Cartons of books. "I have half a secret," he says. "You have the other half." "...his way to stay ahead of the sorrow," you say late one night. I don't ask questions. I think about the mysteries on J-Dock. |
Edited by - Ailinn on 11/16/2019 17:24:53 |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2249 Posts |
Posted - 11/16/2019 : 16:57:14
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| He's rocking with his palms resting on his knees. She's sitting on the top stair beside him with his to-be-continued stories. He interrupts when she leaves something out. "Unfair advantage!" he says suddenly. "C'mon..." she says laughing. "...the water did all the work for you." "Once is enough..." he says. Wet footprints on the deck. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2249 Posts |
Posted - 11/25/2019 : 20:14:01
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| "Moki Dugway," she says. "Most dangerous...?" he asks. A quiz. A puzzle. A prize? "No..." she pauses, "No..." His inquiring eyebrows and summing-up eyes when he lands his gravity-defying chair with a thud. "Tell me," he says. "Flying into a star..." she says. His touched face a light in her hands when he laughs. Later, eyes closed, "Oh, yeah...? he says. "The first day," she says. "No..." he says, "...before that." |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2249 Posts |
Posted - 11/25/2019 : 20:31:46
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| Waterfront tales. Tuna men chasing biblical creatures under the waves. Their ships crowding the Embarcadero. "Straight 'crost from City Hall 'til my hands give out. No greater fish (Bluefin) in the whole damn ocean!" Carlito pounds his fist on the table. His granddaughter, CiCi pauses before setting several plates down. Grilled sardines with lemon and olives. Saffron paella. Baskets of stuffed sausage bread. Oysters to order at the counter. Around 5pm the day's catch is whitewashed on the window. High bench in front where the faithful collect or pay off. Superstitious. No red hats in the crowd. They come here often. He loves these dark-paneled rooms with wide plank floors and rough edges. The long bar with history in pictures on the wall. The newest member of the crew asleep in a crib in a hallway off the kitchen. |
Edited by - Ailinn on 08/16/2020 16:28:33 |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2872 Posts |
Posted - 11/29/2019 : 04:22:42
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Ogden, Utah. Sleeping between railroad tracks and a highway. Middle of the night awakened by loud “moos”, we realized that a cattle drive was passing through and over us. Jumping in sleeping bags we laid down nearer to the tracks where it seemed quieter... Until the train came through.
Then the Mexican jumping beans ballet part two ensued.
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The Nightly Vigil