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Craig
Firefly
Kyrgyzstan
3793 Posts |
 Posted - 12/03/2006 : 17:38:39
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GREEN, in the wizard arms
Of the foam-bearded Atlantic,
An isle of old enchantment,
A melancholy isle,
Enchanted and dreaming lies:
And there, by Shannon’s flowing,
In the moonlight, spectre-thin,
The spectre Erin sits.
An aged desolation,
She sits by old Shannon’s flowing,
A mother of many children,
Of children exil’d and dead,
In her home, with bent head, homeless,
Clasping her knees she sits,
Keening, keening!
And at her keene the fairy-grass
Trembles on dun and barrow;
Around the foot of her ancient crosses
The grave-grass shakes and the nettle swings;
In haunted glens the meadow-sweet
Flings to the night wind
Her mystic mournful perfume;
The sad spearmint by holy wells
Breathes melancholy balm.
Sometimes she lifts her head,
With blue eyes tearless,
And gazes athwart the reck of night
Upon things long past,
Upon things to come.
And sometimes, when the moon
Brings tempest upon the deep,
And rous’d Atlantic thunders from his caverns in the west,
The wolfhound at her feet
Springs up with a mighty bay,
And chords of mystery sound from the wild harp at her side,
Strung from the heart of poets;
And she flies on the wings of tempest
Around her shuddering isle,
With gray hair streaming:
A meteor of evil omen,
The spectre of hope forlorn,
Keening, keening!
She keenes, and the strings of her wild harp shiver
On the gusts of night:
O’er the four waters she keenes—over
Moyle she keenes,
O’er the sea of Milith, and the Strait of Strongbow,
And the Ocean of Columbus.
And the Fianna hear, and the ghost of her cloudy hovering heroes;
And the Swan, Fianoula, wails o’er the waters of Inisfail,
Chanting her song of destiny,
The rune of the weaving Fates.
And the nations hear in the void and quaking time of night,
Sad unto dawning, dirges,
Solemn dirges,
And snatches of bardic song;
Their souls quake in the void and quaking time of night,
And they dream of the weird of kings,
And tyrannies moulting, sick
In the dreadful wind of change.
Wail no more, lonely one, mother of exiles, wail no more,
Banshee of the world—no more!
Thy sorrows are the world’s, thou art no more alone;
Thy wrongs, the world’s.
The Banshee
~ John Todhunter
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2820 Posts |
Posted - 12/06/2006 : 19:08:35
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So, Melinda, did you enjoy the nite with the full moon?
Last nite Melinda showed up... This time She had the gun...
I told her I would take her to the Hudson to see the full moon, but we spent the nite fighting, then making love, then fighting, then making love...
Pity, I so wanted to show her a good time....
Rev Buckman
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2174 Posts |
Posted - 12/10/2006 : 18:42:00
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| Centuries pass. They grow wiser. Across the courtyard he whispers. His words drifting over the consecrated ground. She stands on the fault line listening. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2174 Posts |
Posted - 12/10/2006 : 18:48:25
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| Gardenias in her hair in the morning. Silver dollar size. And later, night blooming jasmine. Midnight's sticky crown. "A blissful ascension, then," he laughs his immutable laugh. The raucous ravens spread their wings and ruffle their black and blue feathers. His mystery remains absolute. Her heart in his hand. His eyes surprised everyday the way the road changes. |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2820 Posts |
Posted - 12/11/2006 : 15:51:18
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OVER THE LINE
I painted myself into a corner
But footprints
Are just about to become part of my design
Now that I've found myself
Over the line.
And I cannot blame any body
But myself
Cause every single choice I ever made was mine
And now I find myself
A little outta line.
You see the signs
A lovelight shines
Between the lines
A lovelight shines
Between the lines
There's a lot of water under the bridges
That are burning
But It's a fact we can finally float or fly just fine
But Baby don't get tangled
In the bottom line.
Looking back into the darkness
Will only
Blind your mind and heart and feed you that
same old line
Come and we will cross
The great divine
You see the signs
A lovelight shines
Between the lines
A lovelight shines
Between the lines
JIMMIE DALE GILMORE
I have messed up one time too many.... Pray for me.... |
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aussiedave
Swinger
Australia
509 Posts |
Posted - 12/12/2006 : 01:51:40
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....every single choice I ever made was mine
every single choice I ever made was mine
every single choice I ever made was mine
yesterday's newspaper |
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aussiedave
Swinger
Australia
509 Posts |
Posted - 12/12/2006 : 02:00:15
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todays present
is only tomorrows past
and yesterday's newspaper
is soon surely forgotten
un-fortunate-ly |
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aussiedave
Swinger
Australia
509 Posts |
Posted - 12/12/2006 : 02:03:10
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| I wish I was a willow tree |
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aussiedave
Swinger
Australia
509 Posts |
Posted - 12/12/2006 : 02:06:34
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autumn leaves the trees all burning red
winter
gently lays her seeds to bed
but life remains a mystery
what does a forest have to do with you
and me?
~*~ |
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aussiedave
Swinger
Australia
509 Posts |
Posted - 12/12/2006 : 02:14:33
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now there was a jukebox playin'
in the silver moon cafe'
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aussiedave
Swinger
Australia
509 Posts |
Posted - 12/12/2006 : 02:18:08
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| there's a blue moon in Kentucky |
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aussiedave
Swinger
Australia
509 Posts |
Posted - 12/12/2006 : 02:19:22
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| all the neon lights are....... |
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Craig
Firefly
Kyrgyzstan
3793 Posts |
Posted - 12/13/2006 : 19:22:38
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The Nightly Vigil...
Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness; So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another, only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.
~ Longfellow |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2174 Posts |
Posted - 12/14/2006 : 18:37:44
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He gave me a bisquit, which I put in my pocket, and not daring to eat it, buried it under a log, fearing he had put something in it to make me love him.
~from the narrative of Mary Rowlandson taken prisoner by the Wampanoag in 1676. |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2820 Posts |
Posted - 12/15/2006 : 19:11:31
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I wish the sunlight finds you
At your best and with good friends
I wish the sunlight finds you
On a road that never bends...
I wish the moonlight finds you
When it's too dark to see your trail
I wish the moonlight finds you
With the wind still in your sail...
The rainbows and the gold are always there
Sometimes they just don't catch our eye
The trials and the storms must come first
I guess I've always wondered why...
I wish the sunlight finds you
Full of hope and full of cheer
I wish the sunlight finds you
With someone you hold dear...
I wish the moonlight finds you
On the road that leads you home
I wish the moonlight finds you
When your heart ceases to roam...
The rainbows and the gold were always there
Sometimes they just didn't catch our eye
The trials and the storms must come first
They're what teach us to try...
I wish the sunlight finds you...
Hank Beukema -2006
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2174 Posts |
Posted - 12/17/2006 : 13:14:08
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| We're back from Ensenada with two trucks full of Mexican angels. For the neighborhood Christmas party at Moonlight beach tonight. Pierced tin and papier mache. A life-size group of three in glitter-sprayed chicken wire and bits of chipped mirror. A "tourist" angel made of decoupage postcards and matchbook covers with gold graduation tassels for hair. Off Revolution in Tijuana we found a family fashioned from twisted coat hangers and fanned peacock feathers for wings. "Anything to declare?" the Border Patrol guy asked Mirella. I was behind her at the Check-Point and my heart sank when he waved her over to Secondary. "What did you tell him?" I asked her. "You don't wanna mess with these passengers 'cause they got more authority than you!" she said. "Out of the truck," officer Jesus Escobeda said. So we got to sit with our novelty halos and sunglasses on on the concrete barricade cooling our heels for half an hour. Mirella shrugged, "do we look like smugglers?" she asked me. "Of course we do!" I said, and started on my litany of "what ifs". "Hahaha," Mirella said, "it's your paranoid nature to look too much into things." |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2174 Posts |
Posted - 12/17/2006 : 13:20:40
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| They are waiting for a break in the weather. He consults the Almanac every day. Trees move outside their window. Back-and-forth. To-and-fro. The sea's unanswered question at the edge of the shore where before they put the boat out on the water. The fine, small boat. Hand-made by the carpenter who was their final neighbor. She sets the table. Warms the white cups. Arranges the old, folded headlines where his eyes and elbows will follow. His shadow crosses the floor. His Sunday morning eyes. He places the pages before her. Half blank. Half filled with notes for the long, uninterrupted journey. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2174 Posts |
Posted - 12/17/2006 : 20:45:58
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| Cold on the Mountain. Cold on the beach. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2174 Posts |
Posted - 12/17/2006 : 21:06:30
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...Let us go back...2000 years. From the middle east...one Tribe. From northern Europe, another. They meet in what is now known as British Isles. They bring with them their music. It is the story of their people. It is the song of their Heros. It is a gift from their God. They conquer other tribes as they move across the land, all the while adding to their "BAND" new and exciting instruments. NEW SONGS. At some point they become one peoople with a (somewhat) common language. They leave Europe at some disputed time in the past and come to these shores. Many years later it is discovered that the purest English spoken on the planet is spoken in the Appalachian Mountain range. Why?... Because of their isolation. What is their song? Where did it come from?
~Mickey Newbury~ |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2820 Posts |
Posted - 12/19/2006 : 14:44:31
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In Which Johnny Depp and The Polar Bear Look For Neverland
When Ralph [[the Hudson River Polar Bear]] first met Johnny Depp, I thought, at first, he might faint... We were sitting in the back yard of the old Helen Hayes house in Nyack, with the broad expanse of green leading all the way down to the river.... Johnny said he had loved this place since he first saw it when Rosie O'Donnell owned it.... Said it was twenty miles from New York City, yet he could almost believe he was in the south of France, if there was a nip of Jameson's in his coffee... Ralph couldn't stop looking at him... [[Rev, he talks to me like I'm real, like you do... ]] It's the magic, Ralphie, the magic, me boyo, that let's, um, no...... Allows some of us to grow older, but never to grow up...... quite.... That's how that little boy from 21 Jump Street could become the boy in Bennie and Joon and What's Eating Gilbert Grape.... How he became Duke in Fear and Loathing and the guy in Blow and The Ninth Gate and how he played Johnny Depp playing Keith Richard[[s]] playing Captain Jack Sparrow to the hilt in Pirates of the Caribbean..... And how that little boy never grew up to play J M Barrie in Finding Neverland... [[Soooo much magic, Rev, it makes me cry...]] Oh, you big Mr Softee, come here and lay down on the grass before you get me started; Johnny's okay, he's talking to Hank, he'll bore him to tears in moments....
It occurs to me at this time of year, that there is a peculiar selectivity in our society when it comes to suspending disbelief... As children we're encouraged, no, sometimes even forced to believe in that fat old man flying reindeer and slipping down chimneys and doing the whole world in one night. After awhile, most children and many adults, seem to come to believe in this character as a part of their lives, past, present, and future, and there is really nothing wrong with that.... However, when it comes to suspending their disbelief in order to picture the Prince of Heaven coming to our land to establish a Kingdom on Earth, being born of a woman, becoming flesh and blood and giving his life to save ours, well, there seems to be a big problem.... In part, Knucklehead, it's just simple boredom: Jingle Bells is more Fun than O Holy Night; the elves are more Fun than the Angels...... Well,think about it buddyboy... There is no more Pure Fun than to have a spirit that can be in all places at once, that is faster than a locomotive and more powerful than a speeding bullet, living with you day to day as your buddy and pal like you and me; a spirit that is there for you when the chips are down and the taxman is knockin at your door... Just try to remember that when you're out there at the mall, or watching the Alabama Christmas Special for the fifth time.... That it's all really about Suspending Disbelief and experiencing the wonderful surprise of joy that happens when that spirit slips down your chimney and rents a room in your heart............. [[So, then, it's like Peter Pan? Like when you saw it when you were a kid and you thought you could fly if you really believed and you broke your leg jumping off of that balcony?]] Yeah, Ralphie, that's it, just like Pan and TinkerBelle and Hook and Smee and that Croc-with-the-clock.... Sorry, babyboy, i got preachy there for a minute...... C'mon, let's go talk to Johnny, maybe some of that magic will have rubbed off on the Hankster.... [[C'mon, it's Hank, Rev.......He'd have to have rubbed him alot.... ]]
" Peter Llewelyn Davies: It's just, I thought she'd always be here.
J.M. Barrie: So did I. But in fact, she is, because she's on every page of your imagination. You'll always have her there. Always.
Peter Llewelyn Davies: But why did she have to die?
J.M. Barrie: I don't know, boy. When I think of your mother, I will always remember how happy she looked sitting there in the parlor watching a play about her family, about her boys that never grew up. She went to Neverland and you can visit her any time you like if you just go there yourself.
Peter Llewelyn Davies: How?
J.M. Barrie: By believing, Peter. Just believe....."
[From Finding Neverland]
"Faith is when you get to the end of all the light you can see and are about to step into darkness.... Faith is knowing that the next step will give you something solid to stand on.... or you will learn to fly...." [Paraphrase ]
Rev Buckman
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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The Nightly Vigil