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buckman
Firefly

USA
2872 Posts

Posted - 10/07/2005 :  23:31:20  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
When she first walked into the room
I thought I had gone to Heaven...
It was days later that I realized
that I was back in Hell...
What i had given up to be with her
would never come back to me no matter
how long or how far I tried...
Carmelita took from me evrything I had left...

Pity, she got so little....

Rev Buckman


http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/

Edited by - buckman on 10/07/2005 23:32:18
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2872 Posts

Posted - 10/08/2005 :  00:11:57  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"He rides three nights across the high desert
When he arrives he knows everything
He shows her a card trick
He tells her a joke
He tells her to stay away from the window
When she takes the bullet out of his chest
He doesn't flinch
Or change his expression
When he makes her lay down beside him
Their sleep flys ahead of the posse"

Grania


The Sailor sings
his harlequin melodies and we dance...

When I was on the Ocean all
I wanted was land...
When I was crossing
the Great Desert all
I wanted was water...
It is The Desire...
The dream that will follow
That is The Mountaintop...

Sometimes when I am with the woman
I want to be alone...
But when I am alone
I always want to be with the woman...

It is the Desire
of the Dream
That fires our blood and
Takes us to the oceans and
The stars...
It is not the arriving
But the going...

Rev B
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2872 Posts

Posted - 10/09/2005 :  00:02:07  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply

Vocations Club

We met on Tuesdays after school
with Sister Mary Agnes,
the two Mary Lous, Julie, Kay and me
to learn about being nuns.
The convent sounded good;
a room of my own, a single bed,
time to think and pray, no fighting
over what we'd watch-Bonanza versus Dragnet,
or who would get the couch.
I dug those crazy nun outfits, and hated hand-me-downs
with too long sleeves and too tight waists.
I'd take the smell of polished wood and incense
over burnt grilled cheese and sour milk.
I'd have a good job, teaching kids
and all the chalk I'd want,
long, unbroken pieces that echoed off the board,
all eyes on me as I'd tap directions,
conducting my classroom all day.
People, I'd begin, today we're talking about...
whatever I want to !
Nuns got great rosaries with fancy beads
and lots of gifts at Christmas.
And the solitude of celibacy sounded pretty good,
better than worrying about French kissing
like my sister, better than pining for men,
like mom, whose men left anyway.

by Paula Sergi
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 10/09/2005 :  17:05:20  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He stands in the kitchen. "Blue here. Robin's Egg. And Vanilla." He's looking at an old Dunn Edwards paint chart. "Warm Apple for the hallways and stairs. And this yellow for the bedrooms. Buttered Light." He marks X's on the colored squares. "Because it just flows," he says. The painters start the 17th. "Buttered Light..." I hear him laughing.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 10/09/2005 :  17:14:05  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Well, I suppose I should have never left the bread out cooling, but... How was I to know...?" she says. "...mmmm..." he says, licking buttery crumbs from his fingers. It's Sunday in the kitchen. Where they guard the dailiness of life. Looking down the sand-blown road to where the coast curves to fresh figs and pomegranates. Many bright-striped markets vying in the sun. She shows him the porcelain crock that keeps the butter cool. A bell-shaped cup submerged in cold water. He nods and spreads the butter thickly.
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Lee F.
Firefly

USA
2550 Posts

Posted - 10/09/2005 :  21:10:00  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He studies the piece of limestone to see what lies captured there that he is supposed to free from its prison hiding the soul , he picks up his sculpturers tools and slowly delves into its depths trusting in a greater beings guidance...Can he hear the inner soft voice today ,over the screams of his demons? He prays so.

Edited by - Lee F. on 10/09/2005 21:11:42
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 10/09/2005 :  21:34:55  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"...Michelangelo. David. 'I found him in the stone.'..."

~Mickey Newbury~
May 29, 2001
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 10/10/2005 :  21:08:05  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Anchored days. The land points its finger through a veil of trees out to silver water. Here his ship waits in a pirates cove. Her cloth is black. Her mast is ebony. And no light shows from where she rocks there like a cradle. She studies his hands. Folded on the galley table. His ear tuned to the wind. Picking up outside. The storm moving over the Ocean. In weather fair and foul his course and courage never alter.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2872 Posts

Posted - 10/12/2005 :  20:33:20  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
In the early Nineties we lived in Haverstraw, across from the Hudson Line train tracks and right next to the cemetary where Carmelita's mother was buried... During one of our nightly fights, I was so drunk I had no thought to my words; they came out unfiltered and were pure mean and piercing... Carm ran out of the house and into the cemetary looking for her mom... I followed close behind and sobered up some as I hit the winter's cold air... As I reached full-semi-consciousness I saw the scene as from above; a longhaired lunatic drunk chasing a screaming, beautiful woman in a nightgown through a snowy cemetary in the moonlight... Every woman's dream date; Rev Buckman and a bottle of whisky.... Never afraid of a night when there was nothing to entertain us, Carmelita and I could create our own dramas and then just watch the pain unfold....

http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 10/12/2005 :  21:08:42  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
At days end she comes to sit by him at the fire. Beside the flames warmth they both lean toward for hours. Their silhouette shoulders melting together in the warm dark.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2872 Posts

Posted - 10/13/2005 :  20:11:20  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply


Some folks like to get away
Take a holiday from the neighborhood
Hop a flight to Miami Beach
Or to Hollywood
But I'm talking a Greyhound
On the Hudson River Line
I'm in a New York state of mind

I've seen all the movie stars
In their fancy cars and their limousines
Been high in the Rockies under the evergreens
But I know what I'm needing
And I don't want to waste more time
I'm in a New York state of mind

It was so easy living day by day
Out of touch with the rhythm and blues
But now I need a little give and take
The New York Times, The Daily News

It comes down to reality
And it's fine with me 'cause I've let it slide
Don't care if it's Chinatown or on Riverside
I don't have any reasons
I've left them all behind
I'm in a New York state of mind

It was so easy living day by day
Out of touch with the rhythm and blues
But now I need a little give and take
The New York Times, The Daily News

It comes down to reality
And it's fine with me 'cause I've let it slide
Don't care if it's Chinatown or on Riverside
I don't have any reasons
I've left them all behind
I'm in a New York state of mind

I'm just taking a Greyhound on the Hudson River Line
'Cause I'm in a New York state of mind

Billy Joel:Turnstiles


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buckman
Firefly

USA
2872 Posts

Posted - 10/21/2005 :  20:26:40  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The delicate scent of her
Remained in my mind long after
She left me...
Tonight I whispered her name
To the moon and
She winked at me...
Oh, Barbie, thank you,
I thought you had forgotten me...

Hank
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2872 Posts

Posted - 10/21/2005 :  20:29:28  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
RELIGION - For Cactus Jack

Whatever soul there is beneath fur and whiskers
delights in things in motion
is mesmerized by birds beyond windows
dreams somewhere of running forever after prey.
Sings songs in silent language
of the glory in blood and the unsurpassed joy of the chase.
Whatever soul there is waits for freedom
like an empty track waits for trains
hungers for open fields and low branches
studies the moment like an artist studies a canvas.
Perfects patience into contentment
blends like a chameleon into shadows
somewhere between sunlight on carpet
and the oval luminescence of eye.
Whatever soul there is feigns complacency
glows with a hidden memory of survival
holds dignity until death is done.
Whatever soul there is remembers kindness
looks back with calmness at windows and walls
forgives the gatekeeper
loathes the gate.

[By my friend oklahoma potter-extraordinaire]CJ Wells 6/12/96

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Karen Runk
Firefly

USA
4925 Posts

Posted - 10/22/2005 :  18:14:00  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send Karen Runk an AOL message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Sounds so pretty. When you look at our house....all you see is white white white. But, that's why I love it...I am attracted to white houses.

Karen Runk
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 10/22/2005 :  18:45:32  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
In the darker light of Durrow they survived. Aromatic grasses she wrapped his fresh catch in. And so they thrived on fish and boiled potatoes. Biscuits were a Sunday treat. Traded with the Baker. And fresh butter from the dairy lad who pedaled out from Baile. Aye, the winds were harsh against the grey flumed coast. And seas were salt and pepper at their door. Still they prevailed. His blue boat afloat and cresting through high weather. Fair and foul. A pinch of kindling. A bit of broth. A sprig of braided heather on the pillow.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 10/22/2005 :  18:51:28  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Slipping out through the verdigris gate. Turning back to glance over their shoulders. Delighted to find both sun and moon in the sky. Sun rising out of the canyons. Moon, a pale wafer of mother-of-pearl. The world waking up in kitchens. Steep street view of the sea for her headstrong heart. His long-held warm hand in hers. Old white adobe Mission on the corner. Bells just a few steps away. Upstairs in a blue room the open suitcase. Dreams escaping under the bed.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 10/25/2005 :  19:18:04  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
They're trimming the palm trees on our hill. A feat more theatre than landscaping. A guy in leather chaps with spikes sticking out of his ankles. Suspended between trees. Swaying. A system of rings and pulleys at his wide belt. A chain saw in one holster. A bright machete in the other. The chain saw roars. Huge palm fronds fall in dusty clouds. With the machete he trims the small stuff. Like chopping greens for salad. When he's finished with one tree he swings Tarzan-like to another. This is not a man in a cherry-picker. This is a ground crew with its eyes in the sky. My neighbor who sells insurance for Farmers says, "I bet his Workers Comp is high."
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2872 Posts

Posted - 10/28/2005 :  16:15:17  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply


The cute Vietnamese girl at the counter
in the Chinese takeout place
Had three Bic pens stuck in the back
Of her hair...
When the phone rang she turned away
From me to her right
Answered the phone
Took the order and
Came back to me with
A smile...
How many duck sauce
How many mustard?

Oh, My God,
If the whole world could only
Look like her and
Work like her...

There would be No Problem....

Hank Beukema


http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2872 Posts

Posted - 10/29/2005 :  08:45:17  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Dear Abby,

I went to see my friend's band the other night....
I have known Joe since he was eighteen and making
$5.00 an hour
And now he is 42 and making big money,
And I am 54...
I had a quart of Jameson's in me and I had already gone
Home from a bar drunk, when he called me...

I drove the twenty miles to Sloatsburg, NY with a little trouble staying
between the lines... The Vicodins were kicking in and the Jamesons was
waning, so I had a little more control than I should have... When I first
got there I was surprised at how many people were there, up in the country,
That far outside New York..... Joe introduced me to his girlfriend [after a
first wife and another longtime girlfriend] and told me she was Brazilian
and only speaks Portugeuse and was from Hackensack, NJ,,,,,,, [Don't ask how
they make it, I don't know either] I immediately started hitting on her,
being translated thru her Aunt, who was the only one that could do that at
the table..... Surrounded by her brother and his wife and her aunt and
uncle, I proceeded to deliver this speech:

" Joe told me I should never look directly at your face...."
"Why"
He told me that I would fall in love with you"
Really?
Yes,
but it's too late,
I already have,,,,,,"

Dear Abby,
Is there something wrong with me?

PS: When I left the bar, not knowing where I was or the terrain of the area,
I drove on the left side of the road for, oh, about a half a mile before the
ship got right...... I saw Joe waving in my rear view mirror but thought he
was just pissed about his girlfriend......

Yours truly, CONFUSED


http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 10/29/2005 :  18:44:14  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Now the sun stalls in melancholy splendor. And here comes the Curse of Standard Time. Goblins pressing their noses against the glass. Ghost sentinels in cob-webbed corners. Not nodding off. Not blinking an eye. Perpetually on guard. Oh, I've said many Rosaries kneeling on rice in this transient Purgatory.
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