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buckman
Firefly

USA
2820 Posts

Posted - 12/01/2005 :  16:16:39  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Carmelita asked me why I choose
to sit in the darkness so much...
I laughed and said that
when I lost my family and my religion,
the darkness kind of chose me...
I stood and we
moved gently to a Newbury Waltz;
I could smell the sunshine on her...
I told her how apart
I felt,
how I lived but did not live,
how a veil separates me from them,
and that if she
knew who she was dancing with
she would be surprised...
She tossed back her aching beauty
and laughed and said,
Don't you really know?
We are all like that,
every one of us...
I try to believe her,
but belief is a strange
and difficult thing this
far into the darkness...

So far into it that I can
hardly hear the waltz anymore.......


Rev Bobblehead


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

2174 Posts

Posted - 12/01/2005 :  21:36:13  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Sunset on water. Four counties long. November's melancholy splendor. Doves cooing in oval arches. Before shadows step from smudged corners. Life going on for hours. His lightning-struck, summing-up eyes. His voice of many colors. No sad days. No sad nights. Stars on the floor when he walks in. And he walks in every night.
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Karen Runk
Firefly

USA
4925 Posts

Posted - 12/01/2005 :  21:40:13  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send Karen Runk an AOL message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"stars on the floor when he walks in" That's quite a vision

Karen Runk
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2820 Posts

Posted - 12/02/2005 :  04:38:28  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Midnight,Route 66...
66 Ford Falcon with Bald Tires...
Rockies in the
Snow,slippin and slidin...
It started on an on-ramp in San Bernardino and
went all the way to Chicago...
Two teenage junkies in the back seat,
tryin not
to listen to me jabber;
me, all cranked up on bennies,
won't,can't
shut-up...
Barstow, Kingman, Wynonna, Flagstaff,Gallup, Amarillo...
Be still
my mouth...
Gonna drive till I can't drive no more...
Oklahoma City,St.Louis...
"If you get hip to this kind of trip, Go take that Trip....
Get Your
Kicks on Route 66"...
Long Ago and Far away...
More truth in those sunrises
than I've ever found since...
Lost my youth in thirteen hours...
Fabulous Firey Fantastic Freshness
First Mornings with New Eyes,
talkin to myself,
wishin I wasn't nineteen and scared and lost inside myself on this lonely
highway....
Rev Buckman
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2820 Posts

Posted - 12/02/2005 :  04:39:49  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
DRIVE HE SAID

Leaving San Bernadino
He said Drive
He said Drive until
You hit Detroit
I was 19 and He Was younger
But he had the car
And he had the gun
So I gobbled up
Some of the
White crosses that
They had come to L A
To take back to Motown
She laid back there
With that haltertop
And those pink shorts
And I had already pictured
Us without him
And we were running
Always running
Fields and streams
And no haltertop
And no shorts
They were smacked out
And I was speeding
I would talk for oh
About an hour and
Every once in awhile he
Would say, Good, Buck, good
Keep drivin, man
I was a New York boy
And wanted to see the
Grand Canyon but
After about a Chevy Chase minute
He said Drive, he said
Drive until you hit Detroit
I drove the entire length of
Route 66 in a Falcon
With bald tires
Through the Rockies
Through Amarillo
Through the snow
Through the drugs
Through the fear
But I made Michigan
And I said goodbye
On the Western coast
So I could go north to Holland
Where some friends left
A light on for me
I don't even remember their names
But I can still see that
Halter top and those shorts
And that gun and
Hear him say Drive,boy
Drive, he said
Drive until you hit Detroit....

Hank Beukema-2004
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2820 Posts

Posted - 12/02/2005 :  21:35:49  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The Lake Isle of Innisfree

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.

William Butler Yeats


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

2174 Posts

Posted - 12/03/2005 :  18:08:59  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He stands behind her. His hands resting lightly on her shoulders. She tenses when the low bough stirs. Her breath catches for a moment. He watches the deer come into the clearing. Two of them. Hesitant and wary. Knows how much they please her with their steep-eyed stare, their fragile legs invention. The salt lick suspended between time and space. Just as he planned and placed it. With oranges glowing over the smudge-pots, and the 5 o'clock sky filling with wings. Their last Winter here. He's ready to tell the whole story. Pages and pages of dreams. "Guard your heart now," he says, drawing the shawl around her.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2820 Posts

Posted - 12/03/2005 :  18:28:28  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Oh MY God.... That's what I'm talkin about..... Thanks, ROR.. You have NO idea...... HB
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2820 Posts

Posted - 12/04/2005 :  08:18:00  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
THE MIDNITE VIGIL

I sit in the dark of this saloon
Trapped here by my
Own unflagging sense of duty...
My work begins at midnite when
The cowboys step into that next level
Of drunkenness and the dance-hall girls
Stop charging and dance
The way they want to...
Not a sherrif or a marshal or
Even a deputy but evrybody knows
Who rules the hours in this dusty town
From Midnite til dawn...

So go to sleep, my children....
I'll be here.....
Watching...
Making sure that the sin and the sinners
Stay here where they belong
And leaves you alone...
The whiskey is just to keep me going...
There is no pleasure for me in it
Anymore...
The times are long gone when a bottle
Or a woman could bring me any amount of
Joy...
Now it is just a matter of
Breathing in the sorrow and
Waiting and
Listening and
Watching...

I'm making a list....

Rev Buckman

See more of my writing at:
http://www.mytown.ca/beukema/
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/

Edited by - buckman on 12/04/2005 15:00:35
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5446 Posts

Posted - 12/04/2005 :  15:40:35  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply

MIDNIGHT FALAFELS

It was late in the novel when she arrived, added
her Medusa to the chapter on apparitions, asked
if he still made midnight falafels for lost souls.
She is the one he used to sing for when summers
were unbearably heavy with fruit, so many plums
and cherries that the birds needn't argue.
Those Julys when she'd slip her nightgown off,
reveal the geometric marvels the noon sun made,
traces of pomegranate juice on her bottom lip.

After their first affair she'd gone off to be
a gypsy in Africa, was captured by slave traders
north of Marrakech, men who took her to the old
pink city, the square of Jemaa I-Fna, where she
was pinched and tested in the shaded tents.
The day she stood again in his open doorway she
had bluebells woven in her long dark hair,
as if a thousand unwanted kisses had brought her
back to the soul's undeniable purity. That night
he made falafels, her favourite, tahini and yogurt
dripped over the ground meal. Their love deep red,
swollen as the sun on the water at Spanish Banks.

For two years they were consumed, believing lovers
could tunnel their way to paradise, their story
a scent under their fingernails. The last time she left
to join the circus, Cuban lion tamer in Miami
promising to teach her how to handle the big cats.
In the end it was the snakes she learned about,
snakes and alligators, and the marks the jellyfish
leave behind when they kiss you. Medusa at the door
as he wrote of energy taking diaphanous form
in the cornfields, orphaned angels who leave negligees
floating in the chalkened meadows of the moon.

It was almost midnight. For eleven years now it had been
almost midnight. He turned on the stove, set the mortar
and pestle on the table. She was hungry again.

DL


visit http://www.betterdaysradio.blogspot.com

Edited by - Doug L on 12/04/2005 15:49:43
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2820 Posts

Posted - 12/04/2005 :  16:36:30  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Oh My.....
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2174 Posts

Posted - 12/04/2005 :  18:44:37  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He is grace. Light that breaks the darkest dark. His eyes surprised everyday the way the road changes. Her heart in his hand.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2174 Posts

Posted - 12/07/2005 :  21:10:17  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Two weeks before Christmas they stood on a winter corner in a southern land. Near sunset in the old, golden light of Rome. Though they were in California. Freezing in a brutal 51 degrees. Traffic flying by in both directions. WALK. DON'T WALK, the lights read. But they were already off the curb. Hurrying to True Value for fish line and heart-shaped shovels.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2174 Posts

Posted - 12/07/2005 :  23:00:12  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
When the mists rolled 'cross the moor he went looking for her. His pent-up energy. His dark fuel. To her thatched hut with its tiny banked fire where he would lie under her rough wool. "Ah, Durrow," she would say, "my dearest. The days come... Still... I remember..." Then he would stumble to the pallet she prepared where he would throw himself down upon the glowing embers.
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5446 Posts

Posted - 12/07/2005 :  23:06:22  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Love to you, poetess.

visit http://www.betterdaysradio.blogspot.com
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2820 Posts

Posted - 12/08/2005 :  18:16:23  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
When You Are Old

When you are old and gray and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

William Butler Yeats


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

2174 Posts

Posted - 12/08/2005 :  19:30:38  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Blessings, Reverend. And to William Butler Yeats. Tomorrow we hit the tinsel Mall blindfolded.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2174 Posts

Posted - 12/08/2005 :  19:37:10  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
In the darker night of Durrow his everlasting vision lights the long way home. Cone-bearing branches, and an ocean around them. A resinous balm that sifts through high trees. Wisps of smoke from unseen fires. At the edge of the forest, the driftwood-choked shore. The rock-bound, mocking sea. The safe place where he caches the boat with its fatal provisions. The moon's slim, silver cup. The thin clouds. The dim star only he can see. The Past and the Future yoked snugly in rusting oarlocks.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2820 Posts

Posted - 12/08/2005 :  20:03:04  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Dear souls who left us lonely here,
Bound on their last, long voyage, to whom
We, day by day, are drawing near,
Where every bark has sailing room.

I know the solemn monotone
Of waters calling unto me;
I know from whence the airs have blown
That whisper of the Eternal Sea.

As low my fires of drift-wood burn,
I hear that sea's deep sounds increase,
And, fair in sunset light, discern
Its mirage-lifted Isles of Peace.

Whittier
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2820 Posts

Posted - 12/09/2005 :  21:43:31  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The Sailor sings
his harlequin melodies and we dance...

When I was on the Sea 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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