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 on: Today at 06:01:04 AM 
Started by tbones - Last post by tbones
White hot dust and glowing embers and the smell of sizzling steak and chicken on hot summer day. The sound of people splashing and jumping in the kidney shaped pool mixed like a cocktail of music and chatter, banter and laughter. Kids running in the yard on the freshly mowed lawn, and dogs panting with their mouths open trying to entice a treat from the people at the BBQ. When night falls the smell of citronella engulfs the patio to stave off the mosquito's in their search for dessert. Empty cans of beer and red solo cups line the tables and railings of the big wooden deck surrounding the back yard. Thunderclaps echo in the distance as we scramble to pick up what we can before a summer storm. The kids go to bed and the TV gets switched on as a curl up on the couch after an exhausting but rewarding day. The great summer days of family and friends gathering together drinking and sharing food and good thoughts, creating memories that can shine in the bleak winter, when the fresh white turns to gray, and the ice crackles beneath our feet try to throw our minds in a downward spiral.

 on: December 13, 2017, 11:09:20 AM 
Started by Chris Dudley - Last post by Chris Dudley
Thud on the step, the dolly slides down
The oven shudders and shakes
A second thump, this one too much
The thing crashes down on the lawn.

Clearing old junk all on my own
My grandfatherís dolly will roll
But it has no straps to secure the load
The crash is my foolish reward.

A wheelbarrow is a one man tool
Same goes for the three ton car jack
But sometimes a dolly is a tool for two
Itís load needs a steadying hand.

So I scan for neighbors to get the new stove in
The challenge of seven steps
Thud on the rising, the same as the fall
But steady, not swaying around.

My neighborís nephew, a strapping young guy
Is willing to lend a shove
This century old dolly does the job right
The burden is lifted up.

 on: December 13, 2017, 10:02:34 AM 
Started by Chris Dudley - Last post by Chris Dudley
They wear it on faces this time of year
the party before all of lent
Use up the booze is the excuse
Mardi Gras before Wednesday, glitter before ashes.

Glitter and paint and not many clothes
A night for the grip of the wild
A night on a quest for the hangover
The new mood of the new season.

Eat up the meat, drink up the booze
Itís fish and water to come
Those forty days and forty nights
The dismal, the silent tomb.

And then the flowers, the lilies, the ham
The colored eggs spread on the grass
Return of the Sun, bright Easter morn
Glory, not glitter from darkness is torn.

Still some eggs have got a sparkle
Glitter spread over glue
A rose red cross on a field of blue
There is glitter with glory on that morning too.

 on: December 13, 2017, 09:52:54 AM 
Started by Chris Dudley - Last post by Chris Dudley
Itís all in the laces, the ankle support
The skates making sticks of the legs
Bang on the splinters of the shed floor
Each yank of the thick woven lace.

If theyíre tight then no blisters, no twisted ankle
From wobbling like a mooncalf
The blade cuts straight in the crouch of the kick
Thereís speed in the icy wind.

Pull on the laces at each eyelet
Then wrap them well on the hooks
Double knot though fingers are cold
Get it right before pulling on gloves.

The blades in the ice, the kick and the glide
The turns and the figure eights
Theyíll warm a body on the frozen pond
But it all depends on the lace.

Thereís a sparkle of ice on every surface
Hoarfrost from the permanent cold
The sun and the wind and glide on the ice
The steam of the hot chocolate bowl.

 on: December 13, 2017, 09:40:28 AM 
Started by Chris Dudley - Last post by Chris Dudley
Inevitable clutter along the workbench
The vice still clear enough for use
Bench set up with outlets along its length
But projects block most of them.

Thatís the way with workshops, the projects get done
Get done, but all in their time
The model airplane, the repair of the belt
The soldering of a circuit board.

Itís a mental map of small drawers, toolboxes and their things
Knowing just where to find a saw
A saw or chisel of any needed thing
On a shelf or in the clutter of the bench.

Tools have been handed down for generations, a set for tapping new screws
Lies in a hardwood box, who makes these things now?
Or a drawknife and plane for smoothing wood
These projects done and cleared, the clutter of long ago.

 on: December 13, 2017, 09:29:34 AM 
Started by Chris Dudley - Last post by Chris Dudley
Andirons stands with polished brass balls
Balls to reflect the flame
To hold back the logs from tumbling out
As the coals shift and decay.

Thereís a good draw on the tall chimney
The fire scent, clear but faint
Only the snap that sends sparks at the screen
Sends smoke out into the room.

The bricks are hot around the hearth
This fireís been burning all day
Flaring for birch, crackling for pine
Glowing for the strong heart of oak.

Snow tracks of bootprints melt from the door
A trip to the wood pile
Fuel for the fire, lungs filled with cold
The silence of a squatting blizzard.

The fire crackles on into the night
The world transforms outside
All the shapes soften with moulding snow
Hot chocolate takes tongues for a ride.

 on: December 13, 2017, 04:55:27 AM 
Started by andrewpayne55 - Last post by andrewpayne55
Straight out the windows the music blares
As we speed down the interstate.
Thereís still a thousand miles ahead on our three day trip
So we keep on driving straight.
Straight through the hearts of Texas and Nashville Tennessee
Only stopping briefly as we pass
To pay tribute to the legends like Johnny Cash and Elvis
Who inspired us all to pick up our guitars.
As we may our way through Carolina, Dolly Parton starts a-singing
Jolene Jolene on the radio.
We sing along in unison and yet we keep on driving
The volume up as loud as it can go.
We arrived before we knew it, in grand old New York City
There was sadness as our drive came to a close.
As it is not the destination, but the journey that is important
When you are surrounded by the ones you love the most.

 on: December 12, 2017, 11:58:22 PM 
Started by AlohaAlex - Last post by AlohaAlex
I dip my toes into the glitter frosted tide pool.   Life clings to edges of slippery wall, laced with salt stuffed barnacles.   Humid days leave nice popcorn shaped clouds above my head, leaving a layer of sticky fishy residue on my exposed arm and legs.   Waves slap and smack feet away sucking the whole power of the ocean in and out of tunnels that have been sanded down over millions of years.   I am a speck of dust observing other specks of dust with a familiar gaze catching flickers of gold flakes reflecting sun rays dripping through the grey canopy above me.   Savory flavors of ocean's kiss seeps into my mouth as i inhale in a barrel chested breath trying to grab some of her mysterious powers into my blood.  The horizontal remains factual in the distance undisturbed by my questions of history or my emotions now clearing from my heart.  As the rocks become smoothed down with the tides hands so do my worries.  Each soft swooshing releases the heaviness back in the sea as I return from where I came. A prehistoric prodigal son.

 on: December 12, 2017, 05:25:06 AM 
Started by andrewpayne55 - Last post by andrewpayne55
Together we lie on the cold stony bank that stretches out into the lake. We awkwardly humble in the dark to find each others hand before linking our fingers and giving each other an affectionate squeeze. The ground may not be the comfiest around, but it is dry and any displeasure that it may have caused us is instant redeemed by the sight that we see before us. For the past three years I have been returning to this place and I donít think that I will ever become immune to the charms of the Adirondack stars. The sheer magnitude of the milky way as it shines directly above us and reflects off of the lakes surface is enough to bring a tear to my eye. I turn around to face you and I can see the stars sparkly like glitter in your eyes. A single tear runs down your cheek as you too are overwhelmed by the pure and natural beauty that we are witnessing. No words need to be said for us both to appreciate how lucky we are to share this moment together. To witness the universe in all of its glory and to say that for a short period of time, this was our home.

 on: December 11, 2017, 12:24:07 PM 
Started by dccavi - Last post by dccavi
Stuck in the '70's. A dimly lit skating rink. Watching the colored circles of light stretch and shrink along the walls and floor. The smell of popcorn. Trash cans full of icee cups and plastic nacho containers filled with crumbs and shining, hardened nacho cheese. Ringing of the pinball machine and knocking of ski ball. Kids walk clumsily in their heavy skates, stumbling over the exit to the track. Watching the bricks disappear in your peripheral, breathing lightly and quickly as you struggle to keep up with the peers gliding effortlessly in front of you. A little practice room behind a window. Falling onto your side, the icy cold penetrates your jacket. You see an old friend but they don't recognize you. The zamboni smoothes everything out and it shines as you wait from the locker room, skates at your side. Phone's low on battery, so you watch anyone not watching you. Pink coats, furry boots, GameBoy, laughter and crying. The parking garage holds off the wind, and the floor is stained with oil. Spots begin to empty as people go home around dinner time.

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