Weekly Challenge: Boo's B'day

[BooMerengue]

I missed my Birthday here, so let's do it now. For my gift I want to go somewhere. Anywhere beautiful. I would like to see it in form, but that doesn't matter.

Weave it with whimsy.
Jazz up the sound.
Douse it in divinity,
and Magick abound.

I am NOT interested in how you wrote it. I dont care about anything except how well it gets me to where you want to take me. So dont torture yourself w/ semantics or poetics or whatever. Just take me away from here, for a minute, or an hour or a day! Please!

No time limit for me. Just do like you usually do on these challenges. and Thanks. Ahead of time.

 

[butters]

for Boo - my gift


take my hand
let's stand
on the top of a mountain
shout your laugh
and watch the snow sparkle in response
shiver its crystals, excited by noise!
cling
together as the dizzying drop spins around us
panoramic
and colder than the ice in our lungs
we cast spells of magic breath with
let me take you there
we'll not fall

 

[UnderYourSpell]

I'll be back

 

[greenmountaineer]

Autumn’s Paradox

Alone in a forest of shadow,
I marvel at that which envelops me.
No need is there to draw my vision.
All is equal beyond and beside me.

I am as a comforted newborn,
Caressed by a southerly breeze,
Protected, seeking no protection,
Heartless of prayers ascending as pleas.

A melody comes from the winter wren.
Elsewhere its echoing choir, the wind,
Would else be silent but for these trees
That gently subdue my menacing fire.

 

[Remec]

I'll be back

*nod*
Me too...inspiration is flourishing, but sleep/naptime is imminent so may have to wait until this afternoon or tomorrow...

 

[Angeline]

12 bones
and the Carolina highway
licks west through blue haze.
It dips through tree lines
in unfurling ribbons as if
lain in a necklace
upon the broad frame
of mountain. 12 Bones
of smoky ribs without breath.

I've watched those ancient
eyeless faces. They see
everything and they wait,
unchanging, still and impassive,
the shears of rock like blind
closed lids.

Grandfather Mountain is here,
Polly Woods and the Lickstone
Overlook. The Humpback Rocks
are foggy serpents, indistinct
and indigo-bearded in thickets
of hickory and pecan.
The tall limbs are bound in kudzu
and morning glory, the whip green,
the purple-faced petals that grin
like wood sprites winking
among the leaves.

Everywhere are stories and secrets,
everywhere are ghosts:
army deserters, pioneers, pirates
and Portuguese, the moonshiners
and soiled doves, the freed ones
and the furtive shadows
of the underground rail, the strange
Melungeons and always the Cherokee
to whom this land belongs.


^^^^^^^^^^

You know where that is, birthday Boo.

 

[tungtied2u]

Sweat rolls down my brow like The French Broad,
works it's way languidly
over nose curves and lip curls,
tongue licks pop out like hidden rapids
clearing the debris left behind
from a half rack of 12 Bones best,
the juice of the fallen is everywhere
red, thick and pungent,
i push myself slowly from the carnage
waving the blood soaked white paper towel
in surrender. Meat is murder,
sweet delicious murder

12 bones
and the Carolina highway
licks west through blue haze.
It dips through tree lines
in unfurling ribbons as if
lain in a necklace
upon the broad frame
of mountain. 12 Bones
of smoky ribs without breath.

I've watched those ancient
eyeless faces. They see
everything and they wait,
unchanging, still and impassive,
the shears of rock like blind
closed lids.

Grandfather Mountain is here,
Polly Woods and the Lickstone
Overlook. The Humpback Rocks
are foggy serpents, indistinct
and indigo-bearded in thickets
of hickory and pecan.
The tall limbs are bound in kudzu
and morning glory, the whip green,
the purple-faced petals that grin
like wood sprites winking
among the leaves.

Everywhere are stories and secrets,
everywhere are ghosts:
army deserters, pioneers, pirates
and Portuguese, the moonshiners
and soiled doves, the freed ones
and the furtive shadows
of the underground rail, the strange
Melungeons and always the Cherokee
to whom this land belongs.


^^^^^^^^^^

You know where that is, birthday Boo.

 

[tungtied2u]

Happy Biirthday Boo

Did I ever tell you Angeline is a MOST EXCELLENT COOK ? You should have her bake you a cake.

 

[Angeline]

Did I ever tell you Angeline is a MOST EXCELLENT COOK ? You should have her bake you a cake.

I made brownies for us. I love you, too.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

For Boo on her unbirthday...........

Remember the first smell of sea,
that sweet salt scent that filled your heart.
See, once more the cloudless skies of youth
when days of sun seemed endless.
Look back, far back, to shared secrets,
hidden trophies of shells and sand dollar.
We have them still to be taken out,
savoured in quiet moments or times
of pain and regret.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

think my form muse has taken a holiday I started it but it's not right and it's got to be right

 

[BooMerengue]

for Boo - my gift


take my hand
let's stand
on the top of a mountain
shout your laugh
and watch the snow sparkle in response
shiver its crystals, excited by noise!
cling
together as the dizzying drop spins around us
panoramic
and colder than the ice in our lungs
we cast spells of magic breath with
let me take you there
we'll not fall

O this is such a great way to start a Mystical Road Trip! Thank you, Butty! I can see us wrapped around each other and plunging together screaming laughing whirling, down, down, down!!

 

[BooMerengue]

Alone in a forest of shadow,
I marvel at that which envelops me.
No need is there to draw my vision.
All is equal beyond and beside me.

I am as a comforted newborn,
Caressed by a southerly breeze,
Protected, seeking no protection,
Heartless of prayers ascending as pleas.

A melody comes from the winter wren.
Elsewhere its echoing choir, the wind,
Would else be silent but for these trees
That gently subdue my menacing fire.

Hey, Green?? I've seen you before, but I don't think I know you! How did you know that the forest, no matter where, is the womb I sprang from!?! I'm so into this pause in my journey. A quiet moment exchanging breath with all thats good in the world! TY, whoever you are!

 

[greenmountaineer]

Hey, Green?? I've seen you before, but I don't think I know you! How did you know that the forest, no matter where, is the womb I sprang from!?! I'm so into this pause in my journey. A quiet moment exchanging breath with all thats good in the world! TY, whoever you are!

Harvest Moon

which I liked.

 

[BooMerengue]

Harvest Moon

which I liked.

Ohhhh.... Wow! Thats so old! But no matter- TY Very much!

 

[BooMerengue]

12 bones
and the Carolina highway
licks west through blue haze.
It dips through tree lines
in unfurling ribbons as if
lain in a necklace
upon the broad frame
of mountain. 12 Bones
of smoky ribs without breath.

I've watched those ancient
eyeless faces. They see
everything and they wait,
unchanging, still and impassive,
the shears of rock like blind
closed lids.

Grandfather Mountain is here,
Polly Woods and the Lickstone
Overlook. The Humpback Rocks
are foggy serpents, indistinct
and indigo-bearded in thickets
of hickory and pecan.
The tall limbs are bound in kudzu
and morning glory, the whip green,
the purple-faced petals that grin
like wood sprites winking
among the leaves.

Everywhere are stories and secrets,
everywhere are ghosts:
army deserters, pioneers, pirates
and Portuguese, the moonshiners
and soiled doves, the freed ones
and the furtive shadows
of the underground rail, the strange
Melungeons and always the Cherokee
to whom this land belongs.


^^^^^^^^^^

You know where that is, birthday Boo.

I have been to that spot in the road, Ange. In Bama, in Missippi, and Loosianna. And I see what you see when I'm there. There are so many stories there they could never all be written. Goddess Bless the kudzu, and may it never die completely! It's an entity all it's own and the best describer in the world couldn't explain it to one who has never seen. I used to pull the truck over in New Albany and just let myself float into it. (whilst still sitting in the truck, of course- one just might not return from the Kudzu). That could be another challenge.

Thank you for taking me there again. If theres Kudzu around here I haven't seen it. I'm sure theres some somewhere, but maybe I should be looking elsewhere.

Sorry it took so long. It's just my puter playing games w/ me. Hate when it does that.

Love you to infinity!

 

[BooMerengue]

Sweat rolls down my brow like The French Broad,
works it's way languidly
over nose curves and lip curls,
tongue licks pop out like hidden rapids
clearing the debris left behind
from a half rack of 12 Bones best,
the juice of the fallen is everywhere
red, thick and pungent,
i push myself slowly from the carnage
waving the blood soaked white paper towel
in surrender. Meat is murder,
sweet delicious murder

I've never seen The French Broad, though I've tasted of her delights in The Tennessee. I've had ribs, but never a half rack of 12 Bones. And peacemaker that I am, I don't mind a bit murdering some meat from time to time. You've taken me somewhere I haven't been. When I get there take me to the riverbank, and we'll make a carnage mess all over each other and let The Broad clean us up.

lmao TY TY TY Tungy!

 

[Angeline]

<snip>

Love you to infinity!

And beyond!

Six years in Maine, and I really understand why Stephen King writes the way he does. And now I feel like I want to channel the great southern writers who convey that sense of stories and secrets everywhere. Well, maybe not Thomas Wolfe though he is buried not far from here.

 

[BooMerengue]

And beyond!

Six years in Maine, and I really understand why Stephen King writes the way he does. And now I feel like I want to channel the great southern writers who convey that sense of stories and secrets everywhere. Well, maybe not Thomas Wolfe though he is buried not far from here.

GF!! REread Look Homeward Angel!

The grisly parade of the spectre years trooped through his brain. Suddenly, he saw that his life had been channelled by a series of accidents: a mad Rebel singing of Armageddon, the sound of a bugle on the road, the mule-hoofs of the army, the silly white face of an angel in a dusty shop, a slut's pert wiggle of her hams as she passed by.
--Chapter 1

Its all there, kiddo! He's a fav of mine. And, of course, Faulkner- who contributed his village and the surrounding area to 'Salems Lot.

Tonight when you go to bed, hold Stephen King in one hand and your New Orleans stories in the other! In the morning you'll awaken w/ a bestseller! Or blood everywhere!! lolol