Sally Alexander
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Friday Poetry: Eagle, by ABBA

January 25, 2013

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"Eagle" by ABBA

They came flying from far away, now I'm under their spell
I love hearing the stories that they tell
They've seen places beyond my land and they've found new horizons
They speak strangely but I understand

And I dream I'm an eagle
And I dream I can spread my wings
Flying high, high, I'm a bird in the sky
I'm an eagle that rides on the breeze
High, high, what a feeling to fly
Over mountains and forests and seas
And to go anywhere that I please

As all good friends we talk all night, and we fly wing to wing
I have questions and they know everything
There's no limit to what I feel, we climb higher and higher
Am I dreaming or is it all real?

Is it true I'm an eagle?
Is it true I can spread my wings?
Flying high, high, I'm a bird in the sky
(I'm an eagle)
I'm an eagle that rides on the breeze
High, high, what a feeling to fly
(What a feeling)
Over mountains and forests and seas
And to go anywhere that I please

And I dream I'm an eagle
And I dream I can spread my wings
Flying high, high, I'm a bird in the sky
(I'm an eagle)
I'm an eagle that rides on the breeze
High, high, what a feeling to fly
(What a feeling)
Over mountains and forests and seas
Flying high, high, I'm a bird in the sky
(I'm an eagle)
I'm an eagle that rides on the breeze
High, high, what a feeling to fly
(What a feeling)
Over mountains and forests and seas
And to go anywhere that I please



Posted at 10:38 PM |

Friday Poetry: Tyger by William Blake

January 18, 2013

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THE TYGER (from Songs Of Experience)

By William Blake

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

Posted at 10:43 PM |

Friday Poetry: Your Song, by Elton John

January 11, 2013

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"Your Song" By Elton John

It's a little bit funny this feeling inside
I'm not one of those who can easily hide
I don't have much money but boy if I did
I'd buy a big house where we both could live

If I was a sculptor, but then again, no
Or a man who makes potions in a travelling show
I know it's not much but it's the best I can do
My gift is my song and this one's for you

And you can tell everybody this is your song
It may be quite simple but now that it's done
I hope you don't mind
I hope you don't mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is while you're in the world

I sat on the roof and kicked off the moss
Well a few of the verses well they've got me quite cross
But the sun's been quite kind while I wrote this song
It's for people like you that keep it turned on

So excuse me forgetting but these things I do
You see I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue
Anyway the thing is what I really mean
Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen

And you can tell everybody this is your song
It may be quite simple but now that it's done
I hope you don't mind
I hope you don't mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is while you're in the world
##
I just love the words to this Elton John song. And who says lyrics in a song can't be poetry?

Posted at 10:35 PM in Music, Poetry |

On Death... Percy Bysshe Shelley

January 05, 2013

My Dearest Mom in law, Jane passed away in the early hours of the morning of January 3rd, 2013 with the first glow of dawn illuminating the sky.

All my thoughts and prayers to Sam, Faith, Arden and Kevin.

I found this poem by Shelley "On Death"...

The pale, the cold, and the moony smile
Which the meteor beam of a starless night
Sheds on a lonely and sea-girt isle,
Ere the dawning of morn's undoubted light,
Is the flame of life so fickle and wan
That flits round our steps till their strength is gone.

O man! hold thee on in courage of soul
Through the stormy shades of thy wordly way,
And the billows of clouds that around thee roll
Shall sleep in the light of a wondrous day,
Where hell and heaven shall leave thee free
To the universe of destiny.

This world is the nurse of all we know,
This world is the mother of all we feel,
And the coming of death is a fearful blow
To a brain unencompass'd by nerves of steel:
When all that we know, or feel, or see,
Shall pass like an unreal mystery.

The secret things of the grave are there,
Where all but this frame must surely be,
Though the fine-wrought eye and the wondrous ear
No longer will live, to hear or to see
All that is great and all that is strange
In the boundless realm of unending change.

Who telleth a tale of unspeaking death?
Who lifteth the veil of what is to come?
Who painteth the shadows that are beneath
The wide-winding caves of the peopled tomb?
Or uniteth the hopes of what shall be
With the fears and the love for that which we see?

Posted at 04:59 PM |