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 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.

 on: December 11, 2017, 07:21:47 AM 
Started by andrewpayne55 - Last post by andrewpayne55
I canít quite remember how old I was when I first wore a pair of skates.
I think I was about seven or eight.
I remember going round in circles in the garden of our house
Never having enough room to move straight.
There was a wonderful short period when everyone at school
Had their birthdays at the local gym and centre for sports.
We all would bring our skates and race each other
Speeding up and down the basketball courts.
We never really learned to match each others speeds
So we never got the chance to converse
As we sped past one another we would try and just show off
By spinning round or skating in reverse.
Last year I wore some skates for the first time in many years
And like a spell they brought me straight back to that age.
The excitement of my youth felt with the wheels upon my feet
I felt free like I had broken from my cage.
It is important to remember the simple things that brought us joy
When we were too young to know the troubles on this Earth.
So that we can return to our past happiness through the simplest of joys
To remind us what our lives are truly worth.

 on: December 08, 2017, 01:50:20 PM 
Started by Higgs88 - Last post by Higgs88
I hold a cold Slush-float, neon colors condensate in my hand, my brain gets chilled, filled with frozen needles then I breathe hard and it's gone. A jogger passes me, I can hear the music coming from her ear buds I recognize the song as she fades down the path. Palm trees litter the park. Not palm trees like you'd think of, with graceful bends and shading leaves overarching on some quiet beach. These are more like palm trees from a Dr. Suess book. They writhe up in crooked directions, until a spiky cluster of knotted branch gives way to the thin wispy leaves floating in the mid-day sun. The trunk skin is like a thorny pineapple hyde, abrasive to the touch. Smell of urine and spilt chili, a man in his tent startles me as I walk by a patch of bushes--

 on: December 08, 2017, 11:06:31 AM 
Started by AlohaAlex - Last post by AlohaAlex
Under a low ceiling of swaying arms above my head, the sky felt small.  Walking a winding sand floored trail my heart began to ease, matching each lobbing step towards a salt splashed opening.  The air was full of sea salt my lungs crystallized its healing properties calming my pulse to a low hum.  My eyes glazed over as if I was stoned from hits of mother nature's fragrance.  I could see the sea's horizon rise above the sandís natural curves following the raising and lowering of the earth curve.   Gently rustles shook over me as the warm Hawaiian breeze reath itself throughout the evergreen canopy.  Palm trees sand their siren song of relaxation.  I could already taste the bubbly sour corona waiting in my cooler.  Once the clearing opened up the sounds of laughing waves brought a smile to my face and softening to my eyes, hiding behind wood framed sunglasses.  I felt as if I was the only person on the island, this is my kingdom sworn to protect.   Occasional thuds from falling coconuts made me wish I had a bowl of the fruitís semi sweet fatty white meat in front of me right now.  I let the blanket of perfect temperature air tuck me in to sleep.  This is my home now.

 on: December 08, 2017, 08:44:37 AM 
Started by Chris Dudley - Last post by Chris Dudley
Crash in the night, the coconut falls
Falls over 100 feet
Dent in the ground big as your head
These are the killer palm trees.

There are some who can climb, no shoes on their feet
To the cluster of green hard fruit
Swing a machete for each that is ripe
Drop them safe with no one below.

There are some who can do that but not around here
So the fruits fall of themselves
Crash in the night, crash in the day
Itís a grove for keeping away.

In Southern Cal, they love the palm
Theyíre lining the long boulevards
But here in Hawaii they also grow wild
Respect is a better word.

There is a guy to fetch the windfalls
Though no one will climb the trees
The bullfrogs at midnight still make their calls
And a coconut falls from a tree,

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