Have you ever sat in front of your keys, and wondered what it was you wanted to say - and all of a sudden words flowed out under your fingers as if you just sat there and watched, letting them go?

Here is a thread for that, no matter if it is poetry, a story you suddenly thought of, or what have you...

It often happens to me JUST like that, and the following was written in that way last night:

MAGIC
What is magic?
Why do things grow?
Is THAT magic?
Tiny things that come up from the ground after a rain...

Why are people?
Is that magic?
Little people
That one day grow old...

Where is magic?
Must it be from any one place?
Or if we learn to understand it
Is it everywhere around us today.

In life
In growing things
In plants
In children
In adults

In waters
In flowing streams
In rocks -
Formed and twisted by glacial flow

What magic can be found in a forrest
Within it's wildlife
The deer that roam
The rabbits that run
The squirrels in the trees
The musical notes of a bubbling stream...

Magic is in the Desert
The Cactusi know...
The creatures that live there
They hold it close

Each within the other
Life depending upon life
Joy within joy
Generation upon generation

It is so that the Coyote lives,
And the Wolf
Expecting nothing
But appreciating everything...

THAT is "magic"

~W. K. 'Dutch' Jacobs
"GREYWOLF"

I don't know why or how it is - but my best writings come straight out of the blue, almost by accident.

But those never fail to be the best!

If that happens to you too, here is a place for it.

~Dutch

 

As a sea going sailor on the open sea, I would often leave the comfort of the lighted areas on board the ship and venture outside at night, when the air operations would come to a successful close for the day. Outside the skin of the ship, at night, at sea, alone with my thoughts is one of the things I miss the most about the sea. On a clear night, with little or no moon, you can see more stars than you ever thought possible. The sky is an amazing black blanket sequinned with the light of an infinite number of stars. There is very little sound beyond the hull of the massive grey ship sliding through the water, breaking against the waves. The ocean gently rocks the ship back and forth like a child slowly falling asleep in its mother's arms. At this time of the night, waves gently rolling the ship, darkness as far as you can see, the sound of the ship moving steadily through the water, your problems seem so much less significant. You begin to understand the beauty of the sea in all her glory. The world simply melts away and you are left with a sense of belonging.

 

(This is an honestly true account of what it looks like when you are on the back end of a US NAVY Aircraft Carrier, watching the sky at night)
I did that for twenty years and one month...


FANTAIL WATCH
So like brightly colored stars - the lights of the incoming aircraft to the deck drifting slowly toward the fantail. Green, and red, and flashing white...

And from the front gear the occasional amber, green, or red.

Far away and around, the orbiting lights of the others in the pattern circle the great ship, as the wash of the screws beyond the stern extend off to the distant and dark horizon.

Dimly the outlines suddenly come into view - until with a rush and a roar the gray painted aircraft slams to the deck overhead!

Another trap, another flightcrew has come home safely...

The thunder of freedom returning, and the scent of burnt kerosene drifts down -

When Flight Ops are all secured, the stars wheel overhead just as they did yesterday

And the sea remains the same....

~W.K."DUTCH" (Greywolf) Jacobs - 23JUL10



*I hope I painted a picture that you can SEE in your minds eye.

 

There is a movie starring Sir Sean Connerry - as an author who stopped writing.

It is called "Finding Forrester", and is one of the most wonderful movies I have ever seen. The best advice in it was to JUST WRITE!@!!

Because if you stop to second guess yourself, you will surely screw yourself up - think about it!!!!

What you really mean to say you will say FIRST!

If you second guess that, you will water it down until it eventually means nothing to anyone...

BE BOLD!!!

SAY WHAT YOU MEAN!!!

BE IMAGINATIVE......


How the hell are we to know you if you hide your dreams?

WRITE THEM!

 

There is something beautiful about watching the sun rise over the desert.
As I left Fallon, Nevada heading east on highway 50- aptly named 'The Lonliest Road in America'- I headed toward the state of Utah, some 300 miles away, enroute to Pensacola, Florida for a school I was attending in four days. Traveling on a dark country road before the sun comes up is therapuetic, in a sense. I had the road, and the mini van, all to myself. About 27 miles east of Fallon is Sand Mountian, a bastion of off road enthusiasts. I couldn't see the mountain when I passed it, but knew I was rolling past the entrance as I saw the sign for 'The Lonliest Phone.' Many a life flight has been initiated from that telephone. Too many people with more money than brains trying to do the impossible on their quads and sand rails, not paying attention to the other folks trying to do the same. Each year there is tragedy on those dunes.

Farther along, I rememebr the first signs of the pending sunrise. Off to my right and left I saw the expanse of the desert beginning to materialize into incredible shades of pink, then red, and finally orange. More colors than I thought had existed all around me like God knew I was going to be passing along this way and needed a reminder of His goodness. Yes, the desert is a beautiful thing, and I had the opportunity to see it in a way that few ever care to take the time to appreciate.
http://highway8a.blogspot.com/2009/0...est-phone.html

 

God has painted the desert with brilliant colors during sunrises and sunsets. They are the best I have ever seen. Desert flowers in the early spring on of all things, cactus, and plants that are below ground most of the year. The cactus flowers colors are beyond description. It is all part of the Painted Desert that writers and poets can do their thing with.

 

After the sailors were put onto the plane that would take them into the theater of Iraq or Afghanistan and my work was caught up for the evening, I took a seat on the front porch of my wooden office hut, the balmy Kuwait evening finally dousing the flames of the blazing sun. This evening was cooler than most, the temperature at 2200 was about 98.

I had the office to myself, so I pulled one of the command vehicles up to the front of the building and turned on the radio. I was fortunate enough to have found a late night rock and roll program and this particular night the dj could do no wrong; every disk he spun was one of my favorite tunes. I poured myself a cup of Joe and took a seat on the front porch with the radio playing and reflected on the events of the day. I had in my possession a fine Cuban cigar that I had been saving for just such an occasion. I carefully lit my contraband stick, rotating it, turning the end into a bright red ember, allowing the smoke to drift upward and envelop me in delicious elation.

Nobody in the camp stirred, no vehicles were driving around, the only sounds were my radio and the squeak of the front porch swing. It felt as if there was no one else in the entire world, and I couldn't help but think about my family back home. I often wondered if they were thinking of me at the same moment I was thinking of them... no matter, my time here will be over soon.

 

'Young and Old Skies...'

"Look up there, do you see them?"

"Where?"

"Over there, just above the horizon now - do you remember the star patterns I showed you? We talked about them.... Can you see it?"

"I think.... it's ORION isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is. I first learned it in school, like you are. We were studying "Constellations". You see the belt and the sword, can you make them out?"

"Yeah - I SEE THAT NOW...."

"I can sometimes see them from where ever I am around the world, the nights on ships at sea are so clear I can't even describe it, and I look for those stars. If you are looking at those stars too - in some funny way maybe we are connected. Maybe we are seeing the same thing at the same time - I don't know what that means, but I wanted to give you that..."

"Papa Dutch?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you coming back?"

"Damned right I am!"

 

Once upon a midnight dreary,
While I pondered, weak and weary
Over many quaint and curious
volume of forgotten lore.

While I nodded, nearly napping,
Suddenly there came a tapping,
As of soeone gently rapping,
Rapping at my Chamber door.

"'tis some vistor I muttered,
Only this and nothing more."


Edgar Allen Poe, The Raven
(Just trying to get the creative juices flowing)

 

A mud elephant
wading through the sea
leaves no tracks.

The Fugs - don't know what album that came off of, but I heard it as a kid and it stuck in my memory...

 

One most often begins to questions our meanin' in Life. We began to wonder, Why am I here...? God must have a purpose for me, I have yet to see it, Like a newborn child my eye's are not open to the Light. I have yet to begin to experience what other's would say "divine intervention" Remember one thing, old men didn't get were they were by bein' stupid. I sometimes gaze up at the star's at night, 'n I see a absolute finite infinite universe. Somethin' that sticks to you, Like glue. Like a fat kid to candy. We take thing's in Life for granted. It may be true we don't know what we have until we loose it, But it's also true we don't know what we have until it arrives. do not take for granted the thing's God hath blessed you with in this Life. Life is not a absolute, it's a privilege, a gift, from God. People alway's seem to want to question everythin' in Life. We take one day at a time, never anticipatin' what's to happen next. Live every day as it's your last. OK guy's, I'd LOVE to write more, But I have to get back to work. I will come back when I ain't busy.

 

CYCLES
From the Sea's vapor come the clouds
That sooner or later must give rain
Which fill the Aquifers
Under the plains

From a tap
I take a drink
While of yesterwhen -
I think...

Eventually tears return
To the Sea
Having no further use for
You or me

~Wolf

* Yeah, I know. It's a dark one - don't worry about it

"If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers -
Did he pick 'em from a pickled pepper plant?
Or was Peter Piper "PICKLED"
When he went to WALMART...."

(Like "Enquiring Minds" give a rats behind)

How about this:

BLING!
Street Shoguns packing pint-sized performance
Stuffing chrome and alloy where it has never been
Paying fortunes for paint rubber and rims
Dreaming of CART racing and Formula V...




Why "LOW"?

Because it's the STYLE -
Because it is of US
Because we want it that way,
And the Chica's dig it....

Because it's different,
And it has different rules
And it's to musica!
It is art

HAY color, Y' SABOR!
Even if it is somehow strange
The old sad guitar songs still embrace it all...
Late in the noche, hopping under the moonlight

CLASSICO!!!

~The young must always express themselves


*Who says an old guy can't understand new things?

HOTRODDING will always introduce new styles, that's what it was always about.

 

LIFE

You having shown love
Even if you cannot understand it
Having shown it
Deserve no less…

For where it exists
Its source unknown
There it is
Regardless

And thus the heart knows well
What resonates from it
That the song of love
Is sung true

One cannot run away
From what is naturally born

Can we?

~Quietly walks away...

Greywolf