Epilogue
Part 1
a '69 Chevy truck,
making its way slowly
up the old logging road,
centipede crawl, the scent
of the pines...
to a small clearing,
where we set up camp.
pitched the tent,
gathered wood for the fire.
enough daylight left,
we began the climb,
up the steep grade
to the top...
the cry of the bobcat,
startles...
then laughter, and we
moved on up.
an old rattlesnake sunning,
careful, go 'round.
we stood on the face of rock,
looking down through the gorge.
the air pure and heady,
the silence overwhelmed.
two hawks gliding down
beneath us.
for a moment then,
timeless...
i'd almost forgotten,
till a few drops of rain
on this morning's windshield,
brought it all back!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Related quotes
After A Dance At Malaga
In Malaga
at the base camp
you danced at some disco
and drank Bacardi
and coke and it was
well into the early hours
of the morning
when you left
with Mamie
tiptoeing between
tent ropes and the unlit
areas between
and she said
I can't find
where my tent is
and you said
I'd let you share mine
but that young army guy
is in mine
and three in a bed
is a bit cramped
but where is mine?
she said
searching around
touching tent ropes
as she went by
you stood watching
trying to decide
where your tent was
what are we to do?
she asked
let's go back
to the club
until it gets lighter
or we remember
where our tents are
you said
but I'm tired
she said
I want to go to bed
and sleep
you searched around
by the hedge of the field
and then said
wait
I know where
mine is now
and you led her
to the tent
and unzipped it
and there inside
was the army guy
fast asleep
you can come in here
if you like
you said
but she just stood there
in the semi dark
cussing into the night
come on in
and be quiet
you said
I want my tent
she said
I want my own bloody tent
ok go find it then
you said
and began to climb inside
wait
she said
in a hushed voice
and came over
to your tent
and looked in
what about him?
she asked
he's asleep
you replied
what will he say
and finds me here?
you gazed
at the sleeping soldier boy
his mouth open
his eyes closed
a soft snore
filling the air
either come in
or go elsewhere
you whispered
I can't
she said
not with him there
and so she turned
and wandered off
into the semi dark
another chance walking off
into the night
some things you hope for
you murmured
never come right.
poem by Terry Collett
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A Short Cut
I decided to walk home from the pub through Booth’s wood,
it only took half the time the winding road would.
A minute or so into the wood a fusty smell filled the air
and a ground mist seemed to cover everywhere.
This path I’d walked many times and never noticed this before,
it was very eyrie with no breeze to disturb the mist at all.
I came across a clearing where the trees were further apart,
for no reason a thumping was echoing from my heart.
I stopped and looked all around, just to satisfy my curiosity
when towards me came a cloud of a green luminosity.
It came from within the wood, which was difficult to believe,
but then a purple cloud formed from behind a fallen tree.
Now I was really getting anxious, as I put a sprint into my pace,
then another cloud, a yellow one was heading towards my face.
The thought of going back from where I came entered my mind
so I turned around, but the clouds were in front and behind.
They weren’t in a hurry, but they were slowly closing in,
a blue cloud joined the others, this defied logic and reasoning.
I became overwhelmed and mesmeric, so I had to stand and wait
and let the four clouds surround me, on them rested my fate.
The four clouds enveloped me, as they swirled and mixed into one,
I breathed in their moisture and felt compelled to walk on.
I didn’t know where I was going; I was blinded by the cloud,
but they formed an alley, so I walked within the shroud.
It swirled again together and then separated just as they came,
and departed in four directions, and never came back again.
They had left me standing on the edge of a cliff’s precipice,
which to my local knowledge, until then didn’t exist.
Looking over the edge I could see a crashed aeroplane below,
it must have lost its bearings and navigated to low.
There was nothing I could do, but tomorrow I would return again
and climb down the rock face to inspect the aeroplane.
Early the next morning I descended and found five bodies inside,
a dog, two adults and two children, they died side by side.
The police went to investigate when I reported the crashed plane,
it had crashed in a magnetic storm of swirling cloud and rain.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Banking Coal
Whoever it was who brought the first wood and coal
To start the Fire, did his part well;
Not all wood takes to fire from a match,
Nor coal from wood before it’s burned to charcoal.
The wood and coal in question caught a flame
And flared up beautifully, touching the air
That takes a flame from anything.
Somehow the fire was furnaced,
And then the time was ripe for some to say,
“Right banking of the furnace saves the coal.”
I’ve seen them set to work, each in his way,
Though all with shovels and with ashes,
Never resting till the fire seemed most dead;
Whereupon they’d crawl in hooded night-caps
Contentedly to bed. Sometimes the fire left alone
Would die, but like as not spiced tongues
Remaining by the hardest on till day would flicker up,
Never strong, to anyone who cared to rake for them.
But roaring fires never have been made that way.
I’d like to tell those folks that one grand flare
Transferred to memory tissues of the air
Is worth a like, or, for dull minds that turn in gold,
All money ever saved by banking coal.
poem by Jean Toomer
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The Quiet Fire
Quite is the fire,
Quite are the dreams,
Quite are the passions, the laughter and the streams.
Quite is the fire that sooths the moment.
Quite is the fire it's like a snow bird in flight,
Lie still, lie still and take in the moment.
For we shall remember how to dream, it's like watching a
Quite is the fire…
For a quite fire is like timeless echoes in the winds.
A quite fire can soothe a lonely soul in passing.
Quite is the fire…
A quite fire can take you over in a moment, it is magic,
A quite fire can burn deep within your soul for hope,
For peace and for love,
Quite is the fire to hear a silent whisper and think of love.
Quite is the fire.
Quite is the moment
Quite is the time for laughter
Quite is the time for hope
Quite is the time for passion
A quite fire is like timeless echoes in the winds.
poem by Sushana Vittaldev
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The Quite Fire
Quite is the fire, quite is the dreams,
quite is the passions, the laughter and the tears,
Quite is the fire that sooths the moment.
Quite is the fire it's like a snow bird in flight,
lie still, lie still and take in the moment.
For we shall remember how to dream, it's like watching a
quite fire.
For a quite fire is like timeless echos in the winds.
A quite fire can soothe a lonely soul in passing.
quite is the fire.
A quite fire can take you over in a moment, it's magic,
A quite fire can burn deep with in your soul for hope,
for peace and for love.
Quite is the fire to hear a silent whisper and think of love.
Quite is the fire.
Quite is the moment
Quite is the time for laughter
Quite is the time for hope
Quite is the time for passion
A quite fire is like timeless echos in the winds.
poem by Margot Lindsey
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Uncle Pat
I sent off this morning
Down the road along the river
Which I take but once a year
My walk will take me by the shore
Then inland for a mile or more
From the cold sea spray
A small wood stands upon the hill
An old house near it lies in ruins
Forgotten long ago
And here in a clearing
song performed by by Ash from Trailer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Isolation.
He came by unknown ways, and stood
At evening in the fading wood,
Which when the glowing hills were gone
Would as in a dream murmur on,
As he beside his camp-fire's glare
Sat as if in a vision there,
And felt the silence like a thing
In which his soul was functioning.
He was a poet maybe who
The world's impression dreamy drew
From his own heart in that strange air,
Like one who had been everywhere
And with the stars and fire-lit trees
Did blend a thousand memories,
Making that speck of light his home
Until the dewy dawn should come.
He well had seemed a phantom at
Some mystic work as lone he sat
Within his ring of charméd light,
Who might step out into the night,
And in a mischief-making mood
Perturb the starry solitude
Until his fire burnt out, and then
Might creep back to his camp again,
And wrapped within his blanket be
A thought-deserted entity.
poem by Robert Crawford
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The Longest Dream
It is always the same I take the bus in the morning
but I never get home, can’t tell the driver where to
stop as I have forgotten the name of my valley
I see it clearly when I close my eyes, a small cabin
in the forest’s clearing. My dog is there waiting
and she has waited long.
She hears the sound of a bus nearing the clearing,
but then it changes direction and the sound of its
diesel engine fades slowly away.
She goes back to sleep her patience is endless
she knows she’s not forsaken. I will return to her
when remembering where I live.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Fireflies.
They are flies born out
Fresh new rains, of today,
Flying around the fire
we lit to ward of the cold,
Brough by the rain.
They flew against the small
Gail tha blew acroos the bushes,
Which gnawed at the rain drops,
Stopped a few hours back.
They flew and flew round
The flames of the fire,
Taking in the heat the fire made,
And danced like butterflies,
Failing to bring the grace,
To fall into the fire, making
Small sparkles and sound,
Living a very short life,
And again ascended to heavens.
Ravikiran Arakkal.
poem by Ravikiran Arakkal
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The Day That She Left Tulsa
(mark d. sanders/steve diamond)
We were a half mile high on the ferris wheel
At our old county fair
I didnt even know we had trouble until
She told me way up there
Thats when my life started spinning round
My world came crashing to the ground
The day that she left tulsa
In a chevy in a hurry in the pouring down rain
With the caution lights flashing in the passing lane
From a bridge I watched our dreams goin down the drain
In a chevy in a hurry in the pouring down rain
No she wasnt showing yet but shed be by christmas time
Up there like a fool I took for granted it was mine.
She never came out and told me that I was wrong
But all of a sudden the light came on
The day that she left tulsa
In a chevy in a hurry in the pouring down rain
With the caution lights flashing in the passing lane
From a bridge I watched our dreams goin down the drain
In a chevy in a hurry in the pouring down rain
I guess she thought the truth would end up driving me away
Well she was wrong but I never had the chance to say
The day that she left tulsa
In a chevy in a hurry in the pouring down rain
In a chevy in a hurry in the pouring down rain
In a chevy in a hurry in the pouring down rain
With the caution lights flashing in the passing lane
From a bridge I watched our dreams goin down the drain
In a chevy in a hurry in the pouring down rain
In a chevy in a hurry in the pouring down rain
In a chevy in a hurry in the pouring down rain
song performed by by Wade Hayes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The park of death [Grădina morţii]
The park of death; remember? It was late
The daylight faded, evening did expand,
And we were walking slowly, hand in hand,
Leaving our steps be piloted by fate.
In a low voice we spoke and slowly crept
Until we reached the gate and went ahead
Into the sanctuary where the dead,
By the grim mistress gathered, soundly slept.
In the cool air was spreading all around
The fragrance of those flowers big and small,
Which filled our lungs as soon as we drew near.
Thrilled by the silence charming and profound
We also stood in silence... You recall
That our first kiss occurred right there, my dear?
poem by Ştefan Octavian Iosif, translated by Octavian Cocoş
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Dream In A Thousand Droplets
Unswerving the water runs over familiar steps
Taking along the energy that filtrates each drop
The water runs over my body creating silver rivulets
Clinging to my skin turning it wet and resilient
Forgotten are time space and all tribulations
There is you and eternity in a timeless existence
I reach and you are there beneath the falls
Time stands still only the moment matters
The language of loving hearts perfumes the air
Etching the scent in every rock and crevasse
I release my hold letting the moment fade
A sense of well being sustains my soul
The sound of a sweet timeless acclamation
Takes me away to a safe place within the realm
Reality calls but repose has sealed my fate.
poem by Ingeborg von Finsterwalde
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You have stormed into my life
You have stormed into my life
You have stolen from me the fire so suddenly without a strife
From the fountains of the past
Left me with none for all others craving lust
All too insignificant for my memory to bother
To glorify the present, you haste and gather
The smoulding ashes to rekindle my low forgotten desire
Stunned as I am against this ancient days fire
Against you I put these lofty steep walls
I fortified my determinations with thick deep trenches
None are a match for the lurid passionate launches
As deep are the moats around me or the towers tall
They are all doomed to melt to dry out and to fall
There, there is the waxing moon in its orbit set so beautiful now
With ore and grace that none can disavow
Goes to the rhythm of the day
Gliding the mirror face of the bay
Gliding the flowers' beds
Gliding the reed's blades
Gliding the golden hours of the night
The meadow, lea and bower under cover bright
Come swiftly come not of late
While the moon is still in its orbit state
Come before the clouds wrapped in morning mists
Strengthen me; enlighten me with your passionate kiss
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What Might Have Been.(Poem)
You had been in Tangiers
until the early hours
of the morning
and was brought back
to base camp on the truck
as the sun was beginning to rise
over the horizon
and had then gone
to crash down
in your tent
too tired to undress
and slept through
until midday
then showered
and sat in the bar
when Mamie came
and sat beside you
and said
where'd you go last night?
I thought you
were going to walk me
down by the beach
and watch the sun rise
from the sea?
I was too tired
you said
I crashed out in my tent
she looked at her glass of coke
I could have joined you there
she whispered
and done what?
you said
slept beside me?
she shifted her buttocks
on the stool and said
well it would have been better
than sleeping in my tent
with that Scottish hen
as her brother calls her
you sipped your drink
and watched
the old Moroccan guy
in the corner
inhale on his marijuana smoke
plus I had her snoring
and moaning in her sleep
Mamie added
giving you her side on stare
yes
you said
it would have been
better than that
and she put her hand
on your thigh
and rubbed it back
and forth and said
but it didn't happen
maybe next time
you replied
imaging it all
in your mind
right down
to the last removing
of clothes
and trying to move
in the tent's small space
your body drained
of all strength
wanting only sleep
the Tangier booze
and belly dancers
and nightclub smoke and music
clinging on your flesh
and ringing in your ears
and she trying
to get you in
the right place
and you closing your eyes
and drifting away
like one who dies.
poem by Terry Collett
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Is Mine!
lover, dont lie...
the stench of silence overwhelms.
the stray cat sleeps in a cardboard box,
the old oak tree groans with morning.
table set for three,
you, me, and the guest...
too long on the road,
he's forgotten the turn,
and love's address is unlisted.
the feather drawn lines of arch and thrust,
define your eyes with headstones.
your hand slips between the bread,
tastes better without mayonnaise.
the cup of whispers grows cold,
deer stand at the edge of the clearing.
the rusted old truck sputters and starts,
crows fly in slow mournful lines.
the feet beneath the table are dirty,
the heart on the plate is mine!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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In Tents
In Waltham, on a Soccer field
A city of pink tents was pitched.
A neighborhood with real thin walls
Some chat, some snore, some mainly itched.
In the distance, thunder rumbled.
Streaks of lightening split the sky
Soon, I knew, the rain would come here.
We must find shelter, you and I.
I am not the outdoors type-
Five star hotels are more my speed,
But out here on the soccer field
Tent building skills are what I need
I 'liberate' a sheet of tarp
To serve as floor for our domain
And with your help I pitched the tent
while laughing in the pouring rain.
Once inside the nylon bubble
(My shoes and clothes quite soaked with rain)
A tiny leak, a Chinese torture
Drop by dropp upon my brain..
Back out again into the Tempest
Back out across the sodden field
I’m seeking out a piece of plastic
to keep out the piss warm rain.
I return to our tent in triumph
A sheet of propylene I found
Is just the thing to keep the rain out
I plop down on the slick wet ground..
The woman in the tent beside us
Like a lusting Walrus snores,
But twenty miles this day behind us
I soon won’t care if Lions roar.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Rain drops fall from heaven
Tears swelling up in my eyes every night
Rain drops fall from heaven
Simply a walking disguise in the light
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wondering when i will be alright
Rain drops fall from heaven
Growing so weak no energy to fight
Rain drops fall from heaven
Losing all hope in my mind
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing that i could simply unwind
Rain drops fall from heaven
As time goes love makes me blind
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing i didn't have to leave her behind
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wanting to make everything right
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing i could see her in sight
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing I had the strength to fight
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing i could hold her tight
Rain drops fall from heaven
Never knowing if she remembers me
Rain drops fall from heaven
Never know if we were meant to be
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing i had more time to see
Rain drops fall from heaven
My family that always loved me
Rain drops fall from heaven
Thinking back to the times we had
Rain drops fall from heaven
Smiles and laughter but yet so sad
Rain drops fall from heaven
Just sitting here all alone
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing i was way back home
Rain drops fall from heaven
Now the only thing that is on my mind
Rain drops fall from heaven
Is the memories i have way back in time
Rain drops fall from heaven
The tears from my eyes and deep inside
Rain drops fall from heaven
Matches the drops that come from the sky
Rain drops fall from heaven
If you could even begin to wonder why
Rain drops fall from heaven
It is simply those tears from lies
Rain drops fall from heaven
Every time it rains i stare to the clouds
Rain drops fall from heaven
Hoping one day she will simply fall
Rain drops fall from heaven
Right into my arms where she belongs
Rain drops fall from heaven
So that i can sing her a song
Rain drops fall from heaven
A song that tells her how i feel
Rain drops fall from heaven
A song that is nothing but real
Rain drops fall from heaven
That will be the day that will bring me joy
Rain drops fall from heaven
Too bad it wont happen to this boy
Rain drops fall from my eyes 24/7
poem by Joshua Thomas Gage
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The Day She Left Tulsa
We were half a mile high
on the Ferris Wheel
In our own county fair
I didn't even know we had trouble
until she told me way up there
That's when my life sarted standin round
and my world came crashin to the ground
Chorus:
The day she left Tulsa..........
In a chevy in a hurry in the pourinn down rain
where the caution lights flashin in the passin lane
on the bridge I watched our dreams go down the drain.
In a chevy in a hurry in the pourin down rain
and no she wasn't showin yet
but she'd be by Christmas time
But up there like a fool
I took for granted it was mine
she never came out and told me I was wrong
but all of a sudden the light came on
Chorus
I guess she thought the truth would
end up driving me away
but she was wrong
but I never had the chance to say
The day she left Tulsa.........
In a chevy in a hurry in the pourin down rain (2x)
chorus
In a chevy in a hurry in the pourin down rain (2x)
song performed by by Wade Hayes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wanderers
AS I rode in the early dawn,
While stars were fading white,
I saw upon a grassy slope
A camp-fire burning bright;
With tent behind and blaze before,
Three loggers in a row
Sang all together joyously—
Pull up the stakes and go!
As I rode on by Eagle Hawk,
The wide blue deep of air,
The wind through the glittering leaves,
The flowers so sweet and fair,
The thunder of the rude salt waves,
The creek’s soft overflow,
All joined in chorus to the words—
Pull up the stakes and go!
Now by the tent on forest skirt,
By odour of the earth,
By sight and scent of morning smoke,
By evening camp-fire’s mirth,
By deep-sea call and foaming green,
By new stars’ gleam and glow,
By summer trails in antique lands—
Pull up the stakes and go!
The world is wide, and we are young,
And sounding marches beat,
And passion pipes her sweetest call
In lane and field and street;
So rouse the chorus, brothers all,
We’ll something have to show
When Death comes round and strikes our tent—
Pull up the stakes and go!
poem by James Hebblethwaite
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The Soul Is The Rock
The soul is the rock and the rock will not be moved
Nothing is disputed, yet nothing is disproved
And the seeds of the earth that were planted long ago
Still yield a better harvest than the rock was prone to grow
Say what you like to, do what you do
Everyones sleeping now two by two
Bats in the roof, cats in the hall
Dust on the stairway, gnats on the wall
Big rain comin
Big rain comin this way
Rain on the rock
Rain on the rock
Rain on the rock
The sea is the space which the rock has displaced
The mind is some stranger that some soul has embraced
And somewhere between, in a no-mans land of dreams
The heart becomes the soldier yet the rock is not redeemed
Say what you like to, do what you can
Live like a sheep, die like a lamb
Bats in the roof, cats in the hall
Dust on the stairway, gnats on the wall
Big rain comin
Big rain comin this way
Rain on the rock
Rain on the rock
Rain on the rock
The soul is the rock and the rock will always roll
In circles round the sun doing rings around the pole
When the mind is not sure what the heart will do next
The rock becomes the master and the road becomes whats left
Late one night when the moon shone down
We went to the mill on the edge of the town
She wore white, I wore black
The town was sleeping when we got back
Big rain comin
Big rain comin this way
Rain on the rock
Rain on the rock
Rain on the rock
The soul is the rock and the rock will not be harmed
Though man must be cheated just as women must be charmed
And the mind is the light for the heart which cannot see
The soul becomes the stranger but the rock will always be
Say what you like to, do what you do
Everyones sleeping now two by two
Bats in the roof, cats in the hall
Dust on the stairway, gnats on the wall
Oh.. big rain comin
Big rain comin this way
Rain on the rock
Rain on the rock
Rain on the rock
The soul is the rock and the rock will not be moved
Nothing is disputed yet nothing is disproved
And the seeds of the earth that were planted long ago
Still yield a better harvest than the rock was prone to grow
And the seeds of the earth that were planted long ago
Still yield a better harvest than the rock was prone to grow
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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