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Ailinn
Windchimer
2217 Posts |
 Posted - 09/12/2008 : 18:54:46
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| No harm in his dark. One white candle flickering at the end of the long hall. Sure, the stars crowd around him. The angels in Heaven do too. |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2829 Posts |
Posted - 09/12/2008 : 19:54:21
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I remember getting excited when dad said to scrunch over cause the numbers on the 58 Plymouth dashboard was gonna go crazy and start over. I leaned over on his shoulder and the numbers went from 99999 9 to 00000 0... We both got so excited we almost went off the road...
This ol Vigil is about to finish 99 pages...
Wonder what happens then? |
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BarbraG
Windchimer
1825 Posts |
Posted - 09/12/2008 : 20:48:39
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"But, why are you staying on the island tonight, with such a
storm crashing in?"
"Why would you put emergency personnel at risk when they have
to come in and try and get you to safety?"
"Why do you think there is a chance that you can ride out this
hurricane safely when all the warnings say otherwise?"
"Where, on the island, is a safe place to hide? I know the
answer to that, but I want to hear it from you."
"In that keg of beer you bought, is there any assurance of
you not drowning in it?"
I was just wondering.
BGee |
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Doug L
Firefly
Canada
5446 Posts |
Posted - 09/13/2008 : 20:20:55
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Whom will you cry to, heart? More and more lonely,
your path struggles on through incomprehensible
mankind. All the more futile perhaps
for keeping to its direction,
keeping on toward the future,
toward what has been lost.
Once. You lamented? What was it?
A fallen berry of jubilation, unripe.
But now the whole tree of my jubilation
is breaking, in the storm it is breaking,
my slow tree of joy.
Loveliest in my invisible landscape,
you that made me more known
to the invisible angels.
Rainer Maria Rilke |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2829 Posts |
Posted - 09/14/2008 : 06:08:14
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If she stays, she stays here.
The girl does what she wants to do.
She knows what she wants to do.
And I know I'm fakin' it,
I'm not really makin' it.
I'm such a dubious soul,
And a walk in the garden
Wears me down.
Tangled in the fallen vines,
Pickin' up the punch lines,
I've just been fakin' it,
Not really makin' it.
Is there any danger?
No, no, not really.
Just lean on me.
Takin' time to treat
Your friendly neighbors honestly.
I've just been fakin' it,
I'm not really makin' it.
This feeling of fakin' it-
I still haven't shaken it.
Prior to this lifetime
I surely was a tailor.
("Good morning, Mr. Leitch.
Have you had a busy day?")
I own the tailor's face and hands
I am the tailor's face and hands and
I know I'm fakin' it,
I'm not really makin' it.
This feeling of fakin' it-
I still haven't shaken it.
Paul Simon |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2217 Posts |
Posted - 09/14/2008 : 17:00:50
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| He brought her back to the steeple-topped town in September. The season was pushing its dark wing against the sky. Melancholy time in the clock tower. Leaves collecting on the ground. A fretwork of empty branches. "If this were a true story...and it is..." he said, their shoulders touching in the tarry dark. He was insightful. He left nothing to chance. The getaway car with its tank full sequestered under the camouflage trees. An epic fog predicted for morning. |
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San Diego
Swinger
509 Posts |
Posted - 09/15/2008 : 20:07:41
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A beautiful moment, Joe. Love to you and your family.
PS: What's happening with #2?
Roisin |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2217 Posts |
Posted - 09/15/2008 : 20:09:19
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| The pages change, but the ink stains on their whorled fingerprints remain the same. |
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Doug L
Firefly
Canada
5446 Posts |
Posted - 09/17/2008 : 09:07:57
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100 pages...
What a long, strange trip it's been. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2217 Posts |
Posted - 09/18/2008 : 17:26:51
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...pages and pages of dreams...
Mickey Newbury |
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Joey L.
Swinger
USA
1383 Posts |
Posted - 09/18/2008 : 20:18:39
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"pages and pages of dreams,"
... and footnotes that touched our hearts and danced throughout our minds.
Doors opened, doors closed. Some flames never lit, some never doused.
all cuz ...
The Future's Not ... |
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Doug L
Firefly
Canada
5446 Posts |
Posted - 09/18/2008 : 23:01:31
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GRACE
The woods is shining this morning.
Red, gold and green, the leaves
lie on the ground, or fall,
or hang full of light in the air still.
Perfect in its rise and in its fall, it takes
the place it has been coming to forever.
It has not hastened there, or lagged.
See how surely it has sought itself,
its roots passing lordly through the earth.
See how without confusion it is
all that it is, and how flawless
its grace is. Running or walking, the way
is the same. Be still, be still.
"He moves your bones, and the way is clear."
Wendell Berry |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2829 Posts |
Posted - 09/19/2008 : 10:40:34
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"He kept a nightly vigil, took his mercy on the chin
A shaman came to share a drink, a woman named Ailinn
In an old saloon where the silver moon spills its healing light
The jar, the seal, the rock, the wheel, the triggers of the night
Then the awful silence and the banging of the door
The wind sweeping the ashes up from off the hardwood floor
He cannot find the music, but he still recalls the song
Love is oh so brief, my love, forgetting is so long..."
D Lang
[These 100 pages have been a delight, marking some years of pain, heartache and now, possibly,redemption... Couldn't have shared my time with a better group of artists... Thank you, Hank] |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2217 Posts |
Posted - 09/20/2008 : 17:20:35
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| At the last brick-and-mortar Library, her kohled eyes behind dark glasses reading from The Book of Days. Their future ascribed to flash paper. Anthems of prayer. Pressure to bear. Referenced consequences on every page. The lyric isolation. The sadness sewn deep in silk sleeves. Smoke from the brands on their jig-sawn hearts rising up through the stacks...a steep incense. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2217 Posts |
Posted - 09/20/2008 : 17:26:35
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| He gave her a cup of smooth polished stones. Currency for the journey. Amulets. Talismans. Charms. The right magic to hold in the palm of her hand when the winds blew cold o'er the water. And the winds blew cold through six centuries across Durrow's cobbled edge. On that craggy shore of shipwrecks and disaster they danced blindfolded Destiny's dance. Bells on their shoes, a small music. |
Edited by - Ailinn on 12/16/2020 18:04:25 |
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BarbraG
Windchimer
1825 Posts |
Posted - 09/20/2008 : 20:39:17
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I was just sitting around one day, and entered Mickey Newbury
in my search engine. Found this wonderful family of Mickey's
folks and friends who sit around in rocking chairs and visit,
regularly. I didn't know that Mickey had left, and was
shocked to hear it. But, in the legacy he left his family
and friends, I have found much comfort. THANK you Judykins,
Karen, Andrew, Jonmark, Ginny, Doug, Miss Mamie, Laura Shayne,
Leah, Joe Z, Joey L, Lib, Lois, Shirley, Elbert, Roy, Susie G,
LarryLarry, Bill Clark, Bill Smith, T.R., Hank, Ailinn(you are so
talented), Toni Jolene, Kacey, and ALL of you who I am not naming.... You are part of my family. I have learned so much from you about music, and I'm still learning. Doug, no one writes like you !! I am in awe of your way with words. Yes, this has been a wonderful "trip" for me, wandering down the pathways and major highways that all lead back to Mickey. Wow.
BGee |
Edited by - BarbraG on 09/20/2008 20:42:54 |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2829 Posts |
Posted - 09/21/2008 : 13:52:06
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[Where are the stars? I see only holes. A light from behind the sky makes it's way through... touches the Earth and traces the ground until once again the midnight sun falls quietly over the edge. You can tell the moon is full, some crazy Cowboy tried to gun down the wind again this morning.]
M Newbury |
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Craig
Firefly
Kyrgyzstan
3793 Posts |
Posted - 09/21/2008 : 18:33:32
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There are joys which long to be ours. God sends ten thousands truths, which come about us like birds seeking inlet; but we are shut up to them, and so they bring us nothing, but sit and sing awhile upon the roof, and then fly away.
~ Henry Ward Beecher |
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BarbraG
Windchimer
1825 Posts |
Posted - 09/21/2008 : 23:58:57
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"Light the match, just light the silly match, Johnny. We can't
do a single thing without light. Do it !!" I was about to
"lose it" with my brother. There we were, hiding in the darkened
room, watching for our father to come back home. It was the
GUN we needed, Dad's rifle that he had ordered a while back which
was designed just like the Rifleman's on the TV Show. Finally,
Johnny put some light in the room, and we were able to find the rifle. My fingers were by
the trigger. We went out the back door
and were able to hide in some really huge flowering shrubs.
My brother looked small in the misting rain that was falling. He
WAS small, only 12. I was 16. I was a girl, yes, but Dad had
taken much time out to teach me how to handle this rifle. My Dad
was my hero. After our Mother had died, Dad had been everything
to us. He saw that we had EVERYthing that we ever wanted or needed,
but at much personal expense to his own safety, and ours. He
had joined with a group of mercenaries and, after many jobs around
the world, he wanted out....to be able to stay home with us full
time. These people were like a small mafia organization. Dad
hadn't know that when he signed up with them, there was no getting
out. Ever. He belonged to them. Actually, we did, too. They
had begun holding our lives in their hands to get him to do horrible
things around the world. He was coming home tonight. The threats
had been coming more often lately so, to me, that meant they
suspected that Dad was going to take us and run. Car lights were
coming down the street. I told Johnny to stay down !! Waiting was
the hard part. I was just a teenaged girl who should have been
out with friends, enjoying life. Instead, I was a mercenary, too,
it seemed. I knew the rifle in my hand....I knew it well. I knew
what it would do and what it could do. Our house was in the
center of the cul-de-sac, with no others having been built since we
had moved here. The vehicle advanced slowly, a black car with
no chrome and no wheel covers. Kinda made me think of how much it
looked like an unmarked police car. But, that was out of the
ballpark. Completely. The car lights were shut off as the car
got closer to our house. The driver pulled around back, something
Dad would never do. "Johnny, come on. That wasn't Dad. We have
to go further down the road to catch him before he gets home. Just
stay low !!" We had stayed close to the bushes and had walked about
two miles down the road. Suddenly, there it was. Dad's black
van .. same M.O. .. no chrome or wheel covers or anything that
stood out that would flash in the dark. There was no mistaking
it. I had all confidence in my judgment when I stepped into the
road and threw up both hands to stop the car. Dad got out and ran
to me, suddenly terrified for my safety. He saw his rifle. Yes,
he had other guns, but this one had been modified and had a few
new tricks added to it. I motioned for Johnny to come to the van,
and handed the rifle to Dad. He paused for a split second and put
his hand to my forehead, in a caress that was also a salute. I
could feel the love from him and the pride in knowing that I was
a lot like him. Dad put us in the van, and made sure we were
anchored down safely in the back, under a bulletproof covered
cage that he had built a while back. He turned the van in the
opposite direction of our house ... or what we used to call our house. Dad had decided to preserve life, and live to fight another
day. I was with him on that. We drove into the darkest night that
I could ever remember. I was safe now. Johnny was safe. And, so
was my Dad. Mom would have been proud. She was a soldier's wife,
and she raised a soldier's family.....raised us to be a lot like Dad. He was in the O.S.S. in WW II, fought in Korea, trained
Chinese paratroopers, volunteered for Vietnam three times, and lived
through it all, managing to bring many young soldiers back home to
their families. I trusted him. I knew him well enough to know
that he would take us to a safe place where we could live a good
and fruitful life. We wouldn't have to live in a hole anymore, buried away from society and all of its wonders. We wouldn't need
a Federal Witness Protection deal .... Dad had written that book !!!!
BGee |
Edited by - BarbraG on 09/22/2008 00:01:21 |
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Doug L
Firefly
Canada
5446 Posts |
Posted - 09/25/2008 : 06:22:04
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TOAST
There was a woman in Ithaca
who cried softly all night
in the next room and helpless
I fell in love with her under the blanket
of snow that settled on all the roofs
of the town, filling up
every dark depression.
Next morning
in the motel coffee shop
I studied all the made-up faces
of women. Was it the middle-aged blonde
who kidded the waitress
or the young brunette lifting
her cup like a toast?
Love, whoever you are,
your courage was my companion
for many cold towns
after the betrayal of Ithaca,
and when I order coffee
in a strange place, still
I say, lifting, this is for you.
-Leonard Nathan |
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The Nightly Vigil