Discussion:
Even As In Morning. by Will Dockery
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Will Dockery
2003-08-14 07:14:43 UTC
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Even As In Morning.

I never could believe the things you did,
you amazed me every day.
I had no other real source to refer to,
until your life and the rest of the family.
A few more miles to Alabama,
down some endless road it seems like.
Every year has its group of blue morning skies,
and when they arrive I will paint.
The colors may not be perfect
but you can only use what you have.

Dawn comes in light misty blue tones,
on the tres and creamy landscape out there.
Bird sounds, prism color in the mirror,
when light comes through the torn curtain.
The sadness on your lips,
wish I could kiss and take away.
Run over to the window, there's that boy,
the bone kid on bone horse.
Even as in morning, he's out there,
whispering noise from the two graves.

I visit the dark stage thinking of the time:
When I was drunk, and I wrote you on my skin.
The popping Summertime night in a jeep just before the misty dawn.
Lost a whole lot to find out and now I did and it's real.
Who was that soldier that took me to your house,
and who was the guy on the motorcycle you'd left with?
I jerk and fumble across the hallway,
the forest seems closer from the sound.
The rich black mud mixed with leaves,
the cinnamon smell of your flowers.
Let me hear new things,
let's lie down and talk in a dark room.
Take off that jacket, put down that razor.
Let's glue the paper plane back together,
the crushed one over in the corner.
Even as in morning, it lies here, I still need you.

Longing here in the rain,
for the blood of Christ to flow in my viens.
Somehow I know it doesn't.

My life is now too clean to walk back 16 years,
but people have to be worth something.
A few more miles to Alabama,
drunken poets and soldiers in downtown bars.

-Will Dockery (c)2003

http://www.angelfire.com/al2/dockery
Will Dockery
2016-03-16 18:06:21 UTC
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"Sixteen years... Sixteen banners united over the field where the good
shepherd grieves. Desperate men, desperate women divided, spreading their
wings beneath the falling leaves. Fortune calls, I step forth from the
shadows, to the marketplace..." -Bob Dylan

Even As In Morning

I never could believe the things you did,
you amazed me every day.
I had no other real source to refer to,
until your life and the rest of the family.
A few more miles to Alabama,
down some endless road it seems like.
Every year has its group of blue morning skies,
and when they arrive I will paint.
The colors may not be perfect
but you can only use what you have.

Dawn comes in light misty blue tones,
on the trees and creamy landscape out there.
Bird sounds, prism color in the mirror,
when light comes through the torn curtain.
The sadness on your lips,
wish I could kiss and take away.
Run over to the window, there's that boy,
the bone kid on bone horse.
Even as in morning, he's out there,
whispering noise from the two graves.

I visit the dark stage thinking of the time:
When I was drunk, and I wrote you on my skin.
The popping Summertime night in a jeep
just before the misty dawn.
Lost a whole lot to find out and now I did and it's real.

Who was that soldier that took me to your house,
and who was the guy on the motorcycle you'd left with?
I jerk and fumble across the hallway,
the forest seems closer from the sound.
The rich black mud mixed with leaves,
the cinnamon smell of your flowers.

Let me hear new things,
let's lie down and talk in a dark room.
Take off that jacket, put down that razor.
Let's glue the paper plane back together,
the crushed one over in the corner.
Even as in morning, it lies here, I still need you.

Longing here in the rain,
for the blood of Christ to flow in my veins.
Somehow I know it doesn't.
My life is now too clean to walk back 16 years,
but people have to be worth something.
A few more miles to Alabama,
drunken poets and soldiers in downtown bars.

-Will Dockery, 1995
--
Music & poetry from Will Dockery & Friends:
http://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery
Peter J Ross
2016-03-16 20:09:03 UTC
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Raw Message
Post by Will Dockery
"Sixteen years... Sixteen banners united over the field where the good
shepherd grieves. Desperate men, desperate women divided, spreading
their wings beneath the falling leaves. Fortune calls, I step forth from
the shadows, to the marketplace..." -Bob Dylan
Even As In Morning
I never could believe the things you did,
you amazed me every day.
I had no other real source to refer to,
until your life and the rest of the family.
A few more miles to Alabama,
down some endless road it seems like.
Every year has its group of blue morning skies,
and when they arrive I will paint.
The colors may not be perfect
but you can only use what you have.
Dawn comes in light misty blue tones,
on the trees and creamy landscape out there.
Bird sounds, prism color in the mirror,
when light comes through the torn curtain.
The sadness on your lips,
wish I could kiss and take away.
Run over to the window, there's that boy,
the bone kid on bone horse.
Even as in morning, he's out there,
whispering noise from the two graves.
When I was drunk, and I wrote you on my skin.
The popping Summertime night in a jeep
just before the misty dawn.
Lost a whole lot to find out and now I did and it's real.
Who was that soldier that took me to your house,
and who was the guy on the motorcycle you'd left with?
I jerk and fumble across the hallway,
the forest seems closer from the sound.
The rich black mud mixed with leaves,
the cinnamon smell of your flowers.
Let me hear new things,
let's lie down and talk in a dark room.
Take off that jacket, put down that razor.
Let's glue the paper plane back together,
the crushed one over in the corner.
Even as in morning, it lies here, I still need you.
Longing here in the rain,
for the blood of Christ to flow in my veins.
Somehow I know it doesn't.
My life is now too clean to walk back 16 years,
but people have to be worth something.
A few more miles to Alabama,
drunken poets and soldiers in downtown bars.
-Will Dockery, 1995
Nothing leaves me weeping for the sheer joy of beauty like a poem by the
amazing Will Dockery.

A man who exudes talent with every breath he breathes and who returns
spiritually enhanced CO2 to an unworthy but eternally grateful earth ...
privileged am I to have lived contemporary with such a master.
--
PJR :)

τὸν οἰόμενον νόον ἔχειν ὁ νουθετέων ματαιοπονεῖ.
- Democritus















--- news://freenews.netfront.net/ - complaints: ***@netfront.net ---
Will Dockery
2016-04-18 03:26:08 UTC
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by Will Dockery
"Sixteen years... Sixteen banners united over the field where the good
shepherd grieves. Desperate men, desperate women divided, spreading
their wings beneath the falling leaves. Fortune calls, I step forth from
the shadows, to the marketplace..." -Bob Dylan
Even As In Morning
I never could believe the things you did,
you amazed me every day.
I had no other real source to refer to,
until your life and the rest of the family.
A few more miles to Alabama,
down some endless road it seems like.
Every year has its group of blue morning skies,
and when they arrive I will paint.
The colors may not be perfect
but you can only use what you have.
Dawn comes in light misty blue tones,
on the trees and creamy landscape out there.
Bird sounds, prism color in the mirror,
when light comes through the torn curtain.
The sadness on your lips,
wish I could kiss and take away.
Run over to the window, there's that boy,
the bone kid on bone horse.
Even as in morning, he's out there,
whispering noise from the two graves.
When I was drunk, and I wrote you on my skin.
The popping Summertime night in a jeep
just before the misty dawn.
Lost a whole lot to find out and now I did and it's real.
Who was that soldier that took me to your house,
and who was the guy on the motorcycle you'd left with?
I jerk and fumble across the hallway,
the forest seems closer from the sound.
The rich black mud mixed with leaves,
the cinnamon smell of your flowers.
Let me hear new things,
let's lie down and talk in a dark room.
Take off that jacket, put down that razor.
Let's glue the paper plane back together,
the crushed one over in the corner.
Even as in morning, it lies here, I still need you.
Longing here in the rain,
for the blood of Christ to flow in my veins.
Somehow I know it doesn't.
My life is now too clean to walk back 16 years,
but people have to be worth something.
A few more miles to Alabama,
drunken poets and soldiers in downtown bars.
-Will Dockery, 1995
Nothing leaves me weeping for the sheer joy of beauty like a poem by the
amazing Will Dockery.

A man who exudes talent with every breath he breathes and who returns
spiritually enhanced CO2 to an unworthy but eternally grateful earth ...
privileged am I to have lived contemporary with such a master.
--
PJR :)

τὸν οἰόμενον νόον ἔχειν ὁ νουθετέων ματαιοπονεῖ.
- Democritus
--- news://freenews.netfront.net/ - complaints: ***@netfront.net ---

=================================================

Got to admit, that was pretty funny.

:D
Will Dockery
2016-03-19 12:16:12 UTC
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You're very welcome, sir. It was my
profound privilege and pleasure. LOL.
Wow... my typing fingers are speechless, in a manner of speaking...

:)
--
Music & poetry from Will Dockery & Friends:
http://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery
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