| Author | Message | ||
| Jeffrey S. Lange
Intermediate Member Username: runatyr Post Number: 523 Registered: 10-2005 |
Hi all! Another opportunity to contribute your favorites for others to enjoy, if you care to.  I had a Jim Croce song in my head, and I kept thinking about what a wonderful poet he was. Of course music and poetry have a long shared history, and songs lyrics, for better or worse, are poetry. Let's just list the "better" though. ;) Who are your favorite songwriters? Here's my favorite Jim Croce song... one of his most well-known. I couldn't find a clean copy of the lyrics online, so I made these up myself listening to the song and working with what I could find. It's interesting to note that good lyrics stand on their own as good poems, but they're still very different... not simply as a result of the repeated chorus many song have, but the way the music is so much a part of the song. There's no way to show that on the page, of course. If I had never seen this song and it showed in Biofeedback, I might nit about "just" being in two consecutive lines... but it works "just" fine in the song. ;) Anyway, here it is. Definitely one of my all-time favorite songs. Operator (That's Not the Way It Feels) Operator - well could you help me place this call? See the number on the matchbook is old and faded. She's living in L.A. With my best old ex-friend Ray. The guy she said she knew well and sometimes hated. Isn't that the way they say it goes? Well let's forget all that. And give me the number if you can find it, So I can call, just to tell 'em I'm fine, And to show I've overcome the blow, I've learned to take it well, I only wish my words Could just convince myself That it just wasn't real. But that's not the way it feels. Operator - well could you help me place this call? 'Cause I can't read the number that you just gave me. There's something in my eyes; You know it happens every time I think about a love That I thought would save me. Isn't that the way they say it goes? Well let's forget all that. And give me the number if you can find it, So I can call, just to tell 'em I'm fine, And to show I've overcome the blow, I've learned to take it well, I only wish my words Could just convince myself That it just wasn't real. But that's not the way it feels. No, no no no. That's not the way it feels... Operator - Oh, let's forget about this call. There's no one there I really wanted to talk to. Thank you for your time. Ah, you've been so much more than kind - And you can keep the dime. Isn't that the way they say it goes? Well let's forget all that. And give me the number if you can find it, So I can call, just to tell 'em I'm fine, And to show I've overcome the blow, I've learned to take it well, I only wish my words Could just convince myself That it just wasn't real. But that's not the way it feels. "I had a lover's quarrel with the world." ~Robert Frost | ||
| penny
Advanced Member Username: funnyoldlady Post Number: 2363 Registered: 06-2006 |
I believe this is true for all kinds of art... Flowers are Red by Harry Chapin The little boy went first day of school He got some crayons and started to draw He put colors all over the paper For colors was what he saw And the teacher said.. What you doin' young man I'm paintin' flowers he said She said... It's not the time for art young man And anyway flowers are green and red There's a time for everything young man And a way it should be done You've got to show concern for everyone else For you're not the only one And she said... Flowers are red young man Green leaves are green There's no need to see flowers any other way Than they way they always have been seen But the little boy said... There are so many colors in the rainbow So many colors in the morning sun So many colors in the flower and I see every one Well the teacher said.. You're sassy There's ways that things should be And you'll paint flowers the way they are So repeat after me..... And she said... Flowers are red young man Green leaves are green There's no need to see flowers any other way Than they way they always have been seen But the little boy said... There are so many colors in the rainbow So many colors in the morning sun So many colors in the flower and I see every one The teacher put him in a corner She said.. It's for your own good.. And you won't come out 'til you get it right And are responding like you should Well finally he got lonely Frightened thoughts filled his head And he went up to the teacher And this is what he said.. and he said Flowers are red, green leaves are green There's no need to see flowers any other way Than the way they always have been seen Time went by like it always does And they moved to another town And the little boy went to another school And this is what he found The teacher there was smilin' She said...Painting should be fun And there are so many colors in a flower So let's use every one But that little boy painted flowers In neat rows of green and red And when the teacher asked him why This is what he said.. and he said Flowers are red, green leaves are green There's no need to see flowers any other way Than the way they always have been seen. Let us so live that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry. - Mark Twain. | ||
| Jeffrey S. Lange
Intermediate Member Username: runatyr Post Number: 524 Registered: 10-2005 |
Oh, I like that Penny... and I like Chapin, but I have to admit I don't know much of his stuff. I'll have to find that and listen to it. ~Jeff "I had a lover's quarrel with the world." ~Robert Frost | ||
| ~M~
Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 9324 Registered: 11-1998 |
You dare to ask a woman with nearly 2,000 pieces of vinyl (yeah, record albums -- anybody remember those?) and almost as many CDs to name a favorite songwriter? Pardon me while I run around in circles till I pass out. *LOL* I have dozens of favorites, but as a chronicler of her age and a poet in her own right, there are few that can match the power of Joni Mitchell. Here are a few of her most famous songs/poems for any remaining hippies still alive out there. Peace, baby. Love, M --------------------------------------------- Big Yellow Taxi They paved paradise And put up a parking lot With a pink hotel, a boutique And a swinging hot spot Don't it always seem to go That you don't know what you've got Till it's gone They paved paradise And put up a parking lot They took all the trees And put them in a tree museum And they charged all the people A dollar and a half just to see 'em Don't it always seem to go That you don't know what you've got Till it's gone They paved paradise And put up a parking lot Hey farmer farmer Put away that D.D.T. now Give me spots on my apples But leave me the birds and the bees Please! Don't it always seem to go That you don't know what you've got Till it's gone They paved paradise And put up a parking lot Late last night I heard a screen door slam And a big yellow taxi Took away my old man Don't it always seem to go That you don't know what you've got Till it's gone They paved paradise And put up a parking lot ~*~ Woodstock I came upon a child of God He was walking along the road And I asked him, where are you going And this he told me I'm going on down to Yasgur's farm I'm going to join in a rock 'n' roll band I'm going to camp out on the land And try an' get my soul free We are stardust We are golden And we've got to get ourselves Back to the garden Then can I walk beside you I have come here to lose the smog And I feel to be a cog in something turning Well maybe it is just the time of year Or maybe it's the time of man I don't know who I am But life is for learning We are stardust We are golden And we've got to get ourselves Back to the garden By the time we got to Woodstock We were half a million strong And everywhere there was song and celebration And I dreamed I saw the bombers Riding shotgun in the sky And they were turning into butterflies Above our nation We are stardust We are golden And we've got to get ourselves Back to the garden ~*~ California Sitting in a park in Paris, France Reading the news and it sure looks bad They won't give peace a chance That was just a dream some of us had Still a lot of lands to see But I wouldn't want to stay here It's too old and cold and settled in its ways here Oh, but California California I'm coming home I'm going to see the folks I dig I'll even kiss a Sunset pig California I'm coming home I met a redneck on a Grecian isle Who did the goat dance very well He gave me back my smile But he kept my camera to sell Oh, the rogue, the red red rogue He cooked good omelets and stews And I might have stayed on with him there But my heart cried out for you, California California I'm coming home Oh make me feel good rock 'n' roll band I'm your biggest fan California I'm coming home Oh, it gets so lonely When you're walking And the streets are full of strangers All the news of home you read Just gives you the blues Just gives you the blues So I bought me a ticket I caught a plane to Spain Went to a party down a red dirt road There were lots of pretty people there Reading Rolling Stone, reading Vogue They said, "How long can you hang around?" I said, "A week, maybe two, Just until my skin turns brown" Then I'm going home to California California I'm coming home Will you take me as a I am Strung out on another man California I'm coming home Oh, it gets so lonely When you're walking And the streets are full of strangers All the news of home you read More about the war And the bloody changes Oh, will you take me as I am? Will you take me as I am? Will you? ~*~ The Last Time I Saw Richard The last time I saw Richard was Detroit in '68, and he told me all romantics meet the same fate someday cynical and drunk and boring someone in some dark cafe You laugh, he said, you think you're immune, go look at your eyes they're full of moon You like roses and kisses and pretty men to tell you all those pretty lies, pretty lies, When you gonna realize They're only pretty lies, just pretty lies He put a quarter in the Wurlitzer, and he pushed three buttons and the thing began to whirr And a bar maid came by in fishnet stockings and a bow-tie and she said, "Drink up now it's gettin' on time to close" "Richard, you haven't really changed," I said It's just that now you're romanticizing some pain that's in your head You got tombs in your eyes, but the songs you punched are dreaming Listen they talk of love so sweet When you gonna get yourself back on your feet? Oh, and love can be so sweet, love so sweet Richard got married to a figure skater, and he bought her a dishwasher and a coffee percolator and he drinks at home now most nights with the TV on and all the house lights left up bright I'm gonna blow this damn candle out, I don't want nobody comin' over to my table I got nothing to talk to anyone about All good dreamers pass this way some day Hidin' behind bottles in dark cafes dark cafes Only a dark cocoon before I get my gorgeous wings And fly away Only a phase, these dark cafe days. | ||
| Gary Blankenship
Senior Member Username: garyb Post Number: 10355 Registered: 07-2001 |
#1 with a bullet - Roy Orbinson - a poet. Smiles. Gary A River Transformed The Dawg House July FireWeed more War/Peace | ||
| penny
Advanced Member Username: funnyoldlady Post Number: 2375 Registered: 06-2006 |
Jeff - Thanks for this thread! Glad you liked the Harry Chapin. My husband and I felt like he was a friend. If you don't know his work, I recommend you check it out - his work was so wonderful, I really miss him. M- I love The Last Time I Saw Richard - and for some reason this old hippie - wanna-be who thought she knew all the oldies doesn't remember this. Thank you for introducing me - now I have to go find it! penny (-:= Let us so live that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry. - Mark Twain. | ||
| ~M~
Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 9327 Registered: 11-1998 |
Dearest penny -- "Big Yellow Taxi" and "Woodstock" are from the Ladies of the Canyon album, "California" and "The Last Time I Saw Richard" are from the Blue album. Blue is classic Joni. If you only want to buy one Joni album, that's the one to get! Love, M | ||
| penny
Advanced Member Username: funnyoldlady Post Number: 2378 Registered: 06-2006 |
M -Blue is now tops on my list. I am so looking forward to hearing it. Thanks again! penny (-:= Let us so live that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry. - Mark Twain. | ||
| Jeffrey S. Lange
Intermediate Member Username: runatyr Post Number: 525 Registered: 10-2005 |
Someone sent me the "The Last Time I Saw Richard" mp3 recently. Inimitable. Not that people haven't tried. And I'm down with Roy, too. I don't much listen to him - my pop loves him, though, and we tend to have similar taste in music. "I had a lover's quarrel with the world." ~Robert Frost | ||
| "A-Bear"
Senior Member Username: dane Post Number: 1961 Registered: 11-1998 |
I'd be copping out to say I love all genres but I do believe most (but not all) song lyrics to be poetry. Case in point: as much as I dislike Rap, I believe it gets a bad rap (pun intended) in most cases. In my mind, Rap is the epitome of rhyming poetry, and some of it is pretty good. With that said, barring the Rolling Stones, Eagles, Moody Blues, and of course, The Beatles, my current favorite musical poet is Van Morrison. I have most, if not all, of his albums, and one of my favorites is "A Night In San Francisco." If you ever have a chance to listen to the track, "It's A Man's, Man's World," I promise you won't be disappointed, regardless of any musical or poetry bias. Then again, I think Van could read from a telephone book and turn it into a poetry slam if he cared to do that. *smile* He's that good. (applause) Thank you. Van spoken: I first heard this song by Bobby Bland in '64. Then I heard by Junior Wells thereon. So work it out for yourself. Van: I know you've been hurt By somebody else I can tell by the way That you carry yourself But if you'll let me-a Here's what I wanna do I wanna take care of you-a I, I loved and lost Just the same as you That's how I know That's how I know That's how I know What you must be goin' through But if you let me Here what I wanna do I wanna take care of you, yeah Junior Wells: You-ooo-ooo Never have to worry You never have to cry-i-i-i 'Cause I'll be there beside you, yeah Ooh, darlin' dry-i-i-i-i And dry your weepin' eyes, Lord! Van: So won't you say That you'll be true There's no doubt in my mind What I have to do And if you'll let me Let me, let me, let me Let me, let me, let me Lean on me Lean on me (Instrumental & vibes) Van: 'One time for Miss Teena Lyle, Teena Lyle' Junior Wells: You-ooo-oooo May never have to worry I said, you-ooo-hoo Never have to cry-i-i Ooh, never goin' back to bein' Now-now, alone, no I'll dry your weepin' eyes Ooh Lord! Won't you say That you'll be true I have no doubt in my mind What I have to do You've gotta trust me Trust me, trust me, trust me It's so hard to do I wanna take care a-you Baby, I'm driftin' I'm driftin' (yeah) Driftin', I'm driftin' I'm driftin', I'm driftin' I'm driftin', I'm driftin' I'm driftin', I'm driftin' I'm driftin', I'm driftin' I'm driftin', I'm driftin' Like a ship out on the foam-a, yeah (Instrumental & horns) I'm driftin', I'm driftin' Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo Like a ship out on the foam Driftin', I'm driftin' I'm driftin' Tell me what time it is What time is it? Van and Teena Lyle: (It's a hustlin' time) (Baby, it's a hustlin' time) It's hustle' time (Yeah, hustle time) It's a hustle time (Baby, it's a hustlin' time) It's hustle time! Early in the mornin' (It's hustlin' time) Hustle time! (Hustlin' time) Ooh Junior Wells: This world would be nothin', baby (It's hustlin' time) This world would be nothin', darlin' Ah, without a woman (Woman) Or a girl (Or a girl) Without a woman (Without a woman) Or a girl now, baby (Or a girl) Without a woman (Without a woman) Or a girl (Or a girl) Without a woman (Without a woman) Or a girl now, baby (Or a girl) Oooh! Oooh-ho-oh! (OW!) Oooh-ho-oh! This world would be nothing (Nothing babe) This world would be nothing, baby (Nothing baby) Oh, I said, without a woman (Without a woman) Or a girl (Or a girl) Without a woman (Without a woman) Or a girl, now baby Without a woman (Without a woman) Or a girl (Or a girl) Without a woman (Without a woman) Or a girl, now baby (Or a girl, now baby) (applause) Mmm-mmm (Instrumental & sax) Van: 'Let's hear it for Candy Dulfer, Candy Dulfer' Van and Teena Lyle: Man made the car Take us over the road Man made the train To carry the heavy load Man made the electric lights (Mmm-mm) Take us outta the dark (Take us outta the dark, now baby) Man made the boat for the water (For the water) Just like Noah made the Ark This a man's world! Would be nothing! Nothing! Without a woman or a girl (Or a girl) Woman or a girl (Without a woman) (Or a girl) Lost! In loneliness He's lost In bitterness Bitterness Help me sing the song Help me song the song Help me song the song Help me song the song Help me song the song Help me song the song Help me song the song Help me song the song Junior Wells: Yeah, let me tell ya I said-a Man made the car! To take us out on the road Man made the train To carry, carry, carry, the heavy load Man made the 'lectric light To take us out of the dark Man made the boat for the water Yeah, like Noah built the Ark Oooh-oh! This is a man's world But it would mean nothing, yeah Without a woman or a girl (Or a girl) Without a girl (Without a woman) Without a woman (Or a girl) Oooooh! Van: Man think about a little-bitty baby girl (Little baby girl) Little baby boy (Baby boy) Man make them happy, yeah 'Cause man bring them toys After man make ev'rything-a Ev'rything he can (Ev'rything he can) Man make more bull shit to sell To other man This a man's world! Would be nothing Without a woman or a girl (Or a girl) Without a woman (Without a woman) (Or a girl) He's lost! LOST! Lost in lonliness (Lost in lonliness) LOST! In bitterness (Lost in bitterness) Hey (Instrumental & keyboard solo) Van: 'That's John Savannah' Yeah Don't let me breakdown! (Let me breakdown) Don't let me breakdown! (Don't let me breakdown) Don't let me breakdown! (Don't let me breakdown) Don't let me breakdown! (Don't let me breakdown) It's too late to stop now (It's too late to stop now, baby) It's too late to stop now (It's too late to stop now, darlin') It's too late to stop now (It's too late to stop now, baby, baby, baby) Don't let me breakdown (Don't let me breakdown) Don't let me breakdown, baby (Don't let me breakdown) Don't let me breakdown (Don't let me breakdown) Don't let me breakdown (Don't let me breakdown) Don't let me breakdown (Don't let me breakdown) Don't let me breakdown (Oooh, let's don't breakdown) Don't let me breakdown (Oooh) Don't let me breakdown (Don't let me breakdown) Don't let me breakdown (Don't let me breakdown) Don't let me breakdown Announcer: 'How 'bout it for Van Morrison!' (Breakdown) (Breakdown) When there's no prima donna When there's no prima donna When there's no prima donna (Don't let me breakdown) When there's no prima donna (This world would mean nothing, baby) When there's no prima donna (The world would mean nothing) When there's no prima donna (Oooh!) Announcer: 'How 'bout it for Van Morrison' (Oh!) When there's no prima donna When there's no prima donna I know there's some of you there Did get healed tonight? When there's no prima donna When there's no prima donna 'Let 'The Man' know you got it tested tonight' When there's no prima donna When there's no prima donna Did you feel the spirit in the house tonight? When there's no prima donna When there's no prima donna (Hey!) (Yeah!) Without a woman (Or a girl) Announcer: 'How bout it for Mr. Brian Kennedy' Without a woman (Without a woman) Or a girl (Without a woman) 'Also Mr. 'James Blues Brown' Hooker' Or a girl (Without a woman) 'Mr. Georgie Fame' 'Miss Candy Dulfer' 'How 'bout this band!' Huh? (inaudible) (Loud applause to end) | ||
| Will Eastland
Member Username: dwillo Post Number: 77 Registered: 07-2006 |
Most of these work better as songs than poetry alone, but, in my opinion, are about as good as lyrics get. Under African Skies (Paul Simon) Joseph's face was black as night; the pale yellow moon shone in his eyes. His path was marked by the stars in the southern hemisphere, and he walked his days under African skies. This is the story of how we begin to remember; this is the powerful pulsing of love in the vein after the dream of falling and calling your name out. These are the roots of rhythm, and the roots of rhythm remain. In early memory, mission music was ringing round my nursery door. I said take this child, Lord, from Tucson, Arizona, give her the wings to fly through harmony, and she won't bother you no more. This is the story of how we begin to remember; this is the powerful pulsing of love in the vein after the dream of falling and calling your name out. These are the roots of rhythm, and the roots of rhythm remain. Joseph's face was black as night, and the pale yellow moon shone in his eyes. His path was marked by the stars in the southern hemisphere, and he walked the length of his days under African skies *********** Wonderful (Van Dyke Parks-recorded by the Beach Boys) She belongs there, left with her liberty, never known as a non-believer; she laughs and stays in the wonderful. She knew how to gather the forest when god reached softly and moved her body-- one golden locket quite young and loving her mother and father. Farther down the path was a mystery through the recess the chalk and numbers a boy bumped into her wonderful. She'll return in love with her liberty, never known as a non-believer; she'll smile and thank god for wonderful. *********** Helplessly Hoping (Crosby, Stills, and Nash) Helplessly hoping her harlequin hovers nearby, awaiting a word. Gasping at glimpses of gentle true spirit he runs, wishing he could fly only to trip at the sound of good-bye. Wordlessly watching he waits by the window and wonders at the empty place inside. Heartlessly helping himself to her bad dreams he worries; did he hear a good-bye, or even hello? They are 1 person; they are too alone; They are 3 together: They are for each other. Stand by the stairway you'll see something certain to tell you confusion has its cost. Love isn't lying, it's loose in a lady who lingers saying she is lost And choking on hello. (Message edited by dwillo on January 15, 2007) Take these dreams and lay them to rest in a quiet room in their Sunday best. | ||
| Danielle Stokes
Intermediate Member Username: abornpoet Post Number: 695 Registered: 08-2005 |
Dan Fogelberg - The Innocent Age Same Old Lang Syne Met my old lover in the grocery store The snow was falling christmas eve I stole behind her in the frozen foods And i touched her on the sleeve She didn't recognize the face at first But then her eyes flew open wide She went to hug me and she spilled her purse And we laughed until we cried. We took her groceries to the checkout stand The food was totalled up and bagged We stood there lost in our embarrassment As the conversation dragged. We went to have ourselves a drink or two But couldn't find an open bar We bought a six-pack at the liquor store And we drank it in her car. We drank a toast to innocence We drank a toast to now And tried to reach beyond the emptiness But neither one knew how. She said she'd married her an architect Who kept her warm and safe and dry She would have liked to say she loved the man But she didn't like to lie. I said the years had been a friend to her And that her eyes were still as blue But in those eyes i wasn't sure if i saw Doubt or gratitude. She said she saw me in the record stores And that i must be doing well I said the audience was heavenly But the traveling was hell. We drank a toast to innocence We drank a toast to now And tried to reach beyond the emptiness But neither one knew how. We drank a toast to innocence We drank a toast to time Reliving in our eloquence Another 'auld lang syne'... The beer was empty and our tongues were tired And running out of things to say She gave a kiss to me as i got out And i watched her drive away. Just for a moment i was back at school And felt that old familiar pain And as i turned to make my way back home The snow turned into rain -- (Message edited by abornpoet on January 15, 2007) | ||
| Jeffrey S. Lange
Intermediate Member Username: runatyr Post Number: 526 Registered: 10-2005 |
Love Van Morrison, Paul Simon... dig most of the choices. I agree that all song lyrics are poetry, but I think more bad poetry rises to the top if the music accompanying it is good. And there's nothing wrong with that; just seemed worth noting. Some music is played with dancing in mind, for instance, and the lyrics might be an afterthought at best. I love the contributions and it's fun to see what other members listen to. "I had a lover's quarrel with the world." ~Robert Frost | ||
| Jim Doss
Senior Member Username: jimdoss Post Number: 2773 Registered: 12-2003 |
Though his last CD was somewhat of a stinker..... I like the early Leonard Cohen: The Story of Issac The door it opened slowly, my father he came in, I was nine years old. And he stood so tall above me, his blue eyes they were shining and his voice was very cold. He said, "I've had a vision and you know I'm strong and holy, I must do what I've been told." So he started up the mountain, I was running, he was walking, and his axe was made of gold. Well, the trees they got much smaller, the lake a lady's mirror, we stopped to drink some wine. Then he threw the bottle over. Broke a minute later and he put his hand on mine. Thought I saw an eagle but it might have been a vulture, I never could decide. Then my father built an altar, he looked once behind his shoulder, he knew I would not hide. You who build these altars now to sacrifice these children, you must not do it anymore. A scheme is not a vision and you never have been tempted by a demon or a god. You who stand above them now, your hatchets blunt and bloody, you were not there before, when I lay upon a mountain and my father's hand was trembling with the beauty of the word. And if you call me brother now, forgive me if I inquire, "Just according to whose plan?" When it all comes down to dust I will kill you if I must, I will help you if I can. When it all comes down to dust I will help you if I must, I will kill you if I can. And mercy on our uniform, man of peace or man of war, the peacock spreads his fan. ******************************** Famous Blue Raincoat It's four in the morning, the end of December I'm writing you now just to see if you're better New York is cold, but I like where I'm living There's music on Clinton Street all through the evening. I hear that you're building your little house deep in the desert You're living for nothing now, I hope you're keeping some kind of record. Yes, and Jane came by with a lock of your hair She said that you gave it to her That night that you planned to go clear Did you ever go clear? Ah, the last time we saw you you looked so much older Your famous blue raincoat was torn at the shoulder You'd been to the station to meet every train And you came home without Lili Marlene And you treated my woman to a flake of your life And when she came back she was nobody's wife. Well I see you there with the rose in your teeth One more thin gypsy thief Well I see Jane's awake -- She sends her regards. And what can I tell you my brother, my killer What can I possibly say? I guess that I miss you, I guess I forgive you I'm glad you stood in my way. If you ever come by here, for Jane or for me Your enemy is sleeping, and his woman is free. Yes, and thanks, for the trouble you took from her eyes I thought it was there for good so I never tried. And Jane came by with a lock of your hair She said that you gave it to her That night that you planned to go clear -- Sincerely, L. Cohen ********************************* Joan Of Arc Now the flames they followed Joan of Arc as she came riding through the dark; no moon to keep her armour bright, no man to get her through this very smoky night. She said, "I'm tired of the war, I want the kind of work I had before, a wedding dress or something white to wear upon my swollen appetite." Well, I'm glad to hear you talk this way, you know I've watched you riding every day and something in me yearns to win such a cold and lonesome heroine. "And who are you?" she sternly spoke to the one beneath the smoke. "Why, I'm fire," he replied, "And I love your solitude, I love your pride." "Then fire, make your body cold, I'm going to give you mine to hold," saying this she climbed inside to be his one, to be his only bride. And deep into his fiery heart he took the dust of Joan of Arc, and high above the wedding guests he hung the ashes of her wedding dress. It was deep into his fiery heart he took the dust of Joan of Arc, and then she clearly understood if he was fire, oh then she must be wood. I saw her wince, I saw her cry, I saw the glory in her eye. Myself I long for love and light, but must it come so cruel, and oh so bright? (Message edited by jimdoss on January 17, 2007) My Blog Loch Raven Review Editor Trakl Translations | ||
| Gary Blankenship
Senior Member Username: garyb Post Number: 10439 Registered: 07-2001 |
Then there is what might be the best song written in decades... The Dixie Chicks' Top of the World I wished I was smarter I wished I was stronger I wished I loved Jesus The way my wife does I wish it had been easier Instead of any longer I wished I could have stood where you would have been proud But that won't happen now That won't happen now There's a whole lot of singing that's never gonna be heard Disappearing everyday without so much as a word somehow Think I broke the wings off that little song bird She's never gonna fly to the top of the world right now Top of the world I don't have to answer any of these questions Don't have no God to teach me no lessons I come home in the evening Sit in my chair One night they called me for supper But I never got up I stayed right there in my chair There's a whole lot of singing that's never gonna be heard Disappearing everyday without so much as a word somehow Think I broke the wings off that little song bird She's never gonna fly to the top of the world right now I wished I'd a known you Wished I'd a shown you All of the things I was on the inside I'd pretend to be sleeping When you come in in the morning To whisper good-bye Go to work in the rain I don't know why Don't know why Cause everyone's singing We just wanna be heard Disappearing everyday without so much as a word somehow Wanna grab a hold of that little song bird Take her for a ride to the top of the world right now (Instrumental) Whoa, Whoa To the top of the world To the top of the world To the top of the world To the top of the world To the top of the world To the top of the world To the top of the world To the top of the world... A River Transformed The Dawg House January 2007 and last FireWeed | ||
| Kathy Paupore
Moderator Username: kathy Post Number: 4491 Registered: 12-2003 |
Okay, finally checking in here. I see noone's gone anywhere near the 80's although the Eagles come close. Two of my all time favorites of the 80's, and no it's not big hair or metal, LOL! Don't Stop Believin' Journey (S.Perry, N.Schon, J.Cain) just a small town girl, livin' in a lonely world she took the midnight train goin' anywhere just a city boy, born and raised in south Detroit he took the midnight train goin' anywhere a singer in a smokey room the smell of wine and cheap perfume for a smile they can share the night it goes on and on and on and on chorus: strangers waitng up and down the boulevard their shadows searching in the night streetlight people, living just to find emotion hiding somewhere in the night working hard to get my fill everybody wants a thrill payin' anything to roll the dice just one more time some will win, some will lose some were born to sing the blues oh the movie never ends it goes on and on and on and on repeat chorus don't stop believin' hold on to the feelin' streetlight people *** Jack and Diane John (Cougar) Mellancamp little ditty about Jack and Diane two american kids growin' up in the heartland Jackie gonna be a football star Diane debutante backseat of Jackie's car Suckin' on a chili dog outside the Tastee Freeze Daine's sittin' on Jackie's lap He's got his hand between her knees Jackie say,"Hey Diane let's run off behind the shady tree dribble off them Bobbie Brooks let me do what I please." And Jackie say chorus: Oh yeah life goes on long after the thrill of livin' is gone oh yeah they say life goes on long after the thrill of livin' is gone, they walk on Jackie sits back reflects his thoughts for the moment scratches his head and does his best James Dean Well there you know Diane we oughta run off to the city Diane says "baby, youn ain't missin' nuth-in' Jackie say-a chorus: gonna let it rock let it roll let the Bible belt come and save my soul hold on to sixteen as long as you can changes come around real soon make us women and men little ditty about Jack and diane two american kids done the best they can. *** KYou're invited to: Wild Flowers "A poem is made up of words and the spaces between them." WCWilliams | ||
| Barbara Martin
Member Username: babs Post Number: 75 Registered: 01-2007 |
Well I'm chime in too. Yes M, I remember vinyl. We have a whole shelf full and listen to them often. There are some excellent choices here. As I've already stated, I feel about Jim Morrison they way A-Bear feels about Van Morrison. Every thing Jim did was poetry. He even has several books of poetry published. But for the purpose of this thread, I thought I would share something more radical. Not necessarily a favorite of mine, but something worht noting. Till Lindemann is the singer/frontman for the German Techno-metal band Rammstein. He is also the song writer and has a book of poetry published. Of course, something is always lost in translations: [English Translation] We were nameless And without songs Really wordless We weren't any more Without a good voice We are still But not soundless People hear us, right After a gust of wind A storm broke Simply without example It was time! GO They were speechless Really shocked -Really desperate About what has happened Simply inconceivable And guaranteed Unbelievable They said with no reason The music is a pity So shameless That should be forbidden It is useless What you are trying So tasteless How you are composing It is hopeless senseless helpless You are God ...less We were nameless We have a name We were wordless The words came Without a good voice We are still But not soundless You can hear that We aren't perfect Only a bit uncontrolled You went quiet Don't (let) us go We were nameless And without songs Really wordless We weren't any more Without a good voice We are still But not soundless People hear us, right After a gust of wind A storm broke Simply unmatched... (We) Became Timeless! We were the matter | ||
| Zefuyn
Valued Member Username: zefuyn Post Number: 118 Registered: 12-2006 |
Hmm interesting post. Favourite lyricists are Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan, Tom Waits. One I'd like to share, who really inspires my writing: The War Criminal Rises and Speaks by. Will Sheff, Okkervil River. The heart wants to feel. The heart wants to hold. The heart takes past Subway, past Stop and Shop, past Beal’s, and calls it “coming home.” The heart wants a trail away from “alone,” so the heart turns a sale into a well-worn milestone towards hard-won soft furniture, fought-for fast food, defended end table that holds paperbacks and back U.S. News. The mind turns an itch into a bruise, and the hands start to twitch when they’re feeling ill-used. And you’re almost back now, you can see by the signs; from the bank you tell the temperature and then the time, and the billboard reads some headlines. The head wants to turn, to avert both its eyes, but the mind wants to learn of some truth that might be inside reported crimes. So they found a lieutenant who killed a village of kids. After finishing off the wives, he wiped off his knife and that’s what he did. And they’re not claiming that there’s any excusing it; that was thirty years back, and they just get paid for the facts the way they got them in. Now he’s rising and not denying. His hands are shaking, but he’s not crying. And he’s saying “How did I climb out of a life so boring into that moment? Please stop ignoring the heart inside, oh you readers at home! While you gasp at my bloody crimes, please take the time to make your heart my home: where I’m forgiven by time, where I’m cushioned by hope, where I’m numbed by long drives, where I’m talked off or doped. Does the heart wants to atone? Oh, I believe that it’s so, because if I could climb back through time, I’d restore their lives and then give back my own: tens of times now its size on a far distant road in a far distant time where every night I’m still crying, entirely alone.” But the news today always fades away as you drive by, until at dinnertime when you look into her eyes, lit by evening sun - that, as usual, comes from above that straight, unbroken line, the horizon - its rising is a given, just like your living. Your heart’s warm and kind. Your mind is your own. Our blood-spattered criminal is inscrutable; don’t worry, he won’t rise up behind your eyes and take wild control. He’s not of this time, he fell out of a hole. 'Poems are a garland of small freedoms' P D'Souza | ||
| Hephaestes
Member Username: hephaestes Post Number: 74 Registered: 12-2006 |
Here's John Hiat: The Wreck of the Barbie Ferrari Saturday night he comes home stinking Sunday morning she wakes up thinking and thinking and thinking and thinking Does she need to get the kids dressed to go to church Hes pulled a shotgun out of the lurch He heads for the tv room starts to search His problems swollen like a river and his realitys shrinking He finds them huddled by the toy box and splatters em all The ken and the midge and the skipper doll They look like a family but theyre really not at all Well hes sad but he aint sorry It aint the end of the world Its just the wreck of the barbie ferrari He wonders if he ever said I do To that little blonde plastic voodoo And his minds gone fishin Well it started just as plain as the nose on your face Now its in a thousand peices all over the place He thought she was driving but its twisted beyond recognition All the diapers and the tutus and the basketballs She was givin them a lift to the promised mall But somewhere by the tv that v-12 stalled As he loaded the chamber her eyes got starry It aint the end of the world Its just wreck of the barbie ferrari When they get home from church wont they be sorry Hes cornered em all on his urban safari It aint the end of the world... Hes played with cars and guns since he could crawl Now he wishes hed never met that doll with her face gone There wasnt nothing he ever thought about He couldnt drive through or shoot his way out As he surveys the family room littered with dolls He cant find one leg to stand on He aims the gun at his head now hes starting to cry Looking for the courage to let it fly Cant live without his family now that something has died Hes not sure whos hurt not sure whos sorry It aint the end of the world... "Then I went back into the house and wrote. It is midnight. The rain is beating on the windows. It was not midnight. It was not raining." -- Samuel Beckett (Molloy) | ||
| Andrew Dufresne
Intermediate Member Username: beachdreamer Post Number: 774 Registered: 01-2006 |
Just learned this on guitar. One of my favorites of hers: URGE FOR GOING (Joni Mitchell) I awoke today to find frost perched on the town It hovered in a frozne sky and gobbled summer down And when the wind turns traitor cold and all the trees stand shivering in a naked row I get the urge for going, but I never seem to go Yes, I get the urge for going, When meadow grass is turning brown, Summertime is falling down and winter closing in I had a girl in summertime with summer colored skin and not another man in town my darling's heart could win But when the leaves fell trembling down and bully winds pushed their faces in the snow She got the urge for going and I had to let her go Yeah she got the urge for going...etc. The warriors of winter give a cold triumphant shout and all that stays is dying, all that lives is getting out See the geese in chevron flight, flapping on and pushing off before the snow They've got the urge for going, they've got the wings to go Yeah, they get the urge for going...etc I'll ply the fire with kindling, pull the blankets to my chin I'll lock the vagrant winter out and bolt my wandering in I'd like to call back summertime and have her stay for just another month or so But she's got the urge for going, I guess she'll have to go Yes, she gets the urge for going...etc --- And this at the START of her career. Whew. ad __________________________________________________ When I try to put it all into a phrase, I say, Man can embody truth but he cannot know it. I must embody it in the completion of my life. The abstract is not life and everywhere draws out its contradictions. You can refute Hegel but not the Song of Sixpence. W. B. Yeats, Letter of 4 January 1939 | ||
| Vienna
Senior Member Username: vienna Post Number: 521 Registered: 11-1998 |
Difficult, there's way too many...but here goes. Maybe not just the lyrics on this, but Annie's Voice and the whole arrangement is gorgeous. Stay By Me, Annie Lennox Stay by me And make the moment last Please take these lips Even if I have been kissed A million times And I don't care if there is no tomorrow When I could die here in your arms Even if the stars have made us blind We're blind we're blind So blind in love Sweet darling Don't you know that we're no different to anyone We stumble We falter But we're no different than anyone And all the winter snow has melted down Into a pool of silver water And we were standing in a thunder cloud Dark as your hair Dark as your hair Mark Cohn, so many...what a poet! Cadillac, Strangers in a Car, but maybe this one just wins.? Walk on Water Lets go down to the sound tonight Tide is low and we can walk on water Reel me in under that starry light Just like the fishermans daughter Baby when the bands and the barkers go home They say that venus she rises From out of the foam She dances on air and laughs at the moon And watches young lovers in fiery dunes So are you willing to wait for the miracle Willing to wait it through Are you willing to wait for the miracle Or dont you believe theyre true? Theres an old man sitting by the side of the pier Hes got his cross and his camera And his bottle of beer He just sits all day and all through the night Praying for a vision or a heavenly light cause hes willing to wait for the miracle Willing to wait it through Hes willing to wait for the miracle What else is he gonna do? What else is he gonna do? Now me I dont need no heavenly sign cause I got the water and the wine So baby please let your lovelight shine cause were all gonna meet our maker Sometime Thats why Im willing to wait for the miracles Im willing to wait them through Im willing to wait for the miracles But I just cant wait -- for you Just cant wait for you Lets go down to the sound tonight And walk on water Walk on water Walk on water And maybe the best for leaving a visual picture in my mind, Al Stewart's Year of the Cat. On a morning from a Bogart movie In a country where they turn back time You go strolling through the crowd like Peter Lorre Contemplating a crime She comes out of the sun in a silk dress running Like a watercolour in the rain Don't bother asking for explanations She'll just tell you that she came In the year of the cat She doesn't give you time for questions As she locks up your arm in hers And you follow 'till your sense of which direction Completely disappears By the blue tiled walls near the market stalls There's a hidden door she leads you to These days, she says, I feel my life Just like a river running through The year of the cat Well, she looks at you so cooly And her eyes shine like the moon in the sea She comes in incense and patchouli So you take her, to find what's waiting inside The year of the cat Well, morning comes and you're still with her And the bus and the tourists are gone And you've thrown away the choice and lost your ticket So you have to stay on But the drum-beat strains of the night remain In the rhythm of the new-born day You know sometime you're bound to leave her But for now you're going to stay In the year of the cat V 'It's incidental, not integral; if you know what I mean' ~ Maude. | ||
| Morgan Lafay
Senior Member Username: morganlafay Post Number: 2948 Registered: 08-2005 |
Steamy Windows (Tina Turner, CD "Simply the Best" Steamy Windows I was thinking about parking the other night We was out on a back road Me and my baby was just getting right All our systems on overload Radio blasting in the front seat Turning out the music fine And we was snuggled up in the back seat Making up for lost time Steamy windows Zero visibility Steamy windows Coming from the body heat You can wine and dine with a man all night With good intent But there is something about a confrontation on a back road Breaks down the difference Steamy windows Zero visibility Steamy windows Coming from the body heat Steamy windows Ain't nobody can see Steamy windows Coming from the body heat There's a sound outside the front door And I know that's just the wind And it makes him snuggle up just a little bit closer And start things happening again Steamy windows Ain't nobody can see Steamy windows Coming from the body heat (I dedicate this song to my first love and that white lacey apron)} | ||
| Laura Polley
New member Username: lpolley Post Number: 32 Registered: 06-2006 |
Possibly an obscure favorite, but Marillion wins for me, hands down. Here are three of their most "poetic" songs. BITTER SUITE I. Brief Encounter A spider wanders aimlessly within the warmth of a shadow Not the regal creature of border caves But the poor, misguided, directionless familiar Of some obscure Scottish poet The mist crawls from the canal Like some primordial phantom of romance To curl, under a cascade of neon pollen While I sit tied to the phone like an expectant father Your carnation will rot in a vase. II. Lost Weekend A train sleeps in a siding The driver guzzles another can of lager To wash away the memories of a Friday night down at the club She was a wallflower at sixteen She'll be a wallflower at thirty four Her mother called her beautiful Her daddy said, "A whore". III. Blue Angel The sky was Bible black in Lyon When I met the Magdalene She was paralysed in a streetlight She refused to give her name And a ring of violet bruises They were pinned upon her arm. Two hundred francs for sanctuary and she led me by the hand To a room of dancing shadows where all the heartache disappears And from glowing tongues of candles I heard her whisper in my ear "'J'entend ton coeur" I can hear your heart IV. Misplaced Rendezvous It's getting late, for scribbling and scratching on the paper Something's gonna give under this pressure And the cracks are already beginning to show It's too late The weekend career girl never boarded the plane They said this could never happen again So wrong, so wrong This time it seems to be another misplaced rendezvous This time, it's looking like another misplaced rendezvous With you The parallel of you, you V. Windswept Thumb On the outskirts of nowhere On the ring road to somewhere On the verge of indecision I'll always take the roundabout way Waiting on the rain For I was born with a habit, from a sign The habit of a windswept thumb And the sign of the rain It's started raining WARM WET CIRCLES On promenades where drunks propose to lonely arcade mannequins Where ceremonies pause at the jeweler's shop display Feigning casual silence in strained romantic interludes Till they commit themselves to the muted journey home And the pool player rests on another cue Last nights hero picking up his dues A honeymoon gambled on a ricochet She's staring at the brochures at the holidays Chalking up a name in your hometown Standing all your mates to another round Laughing at the world till the barman wipes away the warm wet circles The warm wet circles I saw teenage girls like gaudy moths A classroom's shabby butterflies Flirt in the glow of stranded telephone boxes Planning white lace weddings from smeared hearts and token proclamations Rolled from stolen lipsticks across the razored webs of glass Sharing cigarettes with experience with her giggling jealous confidantes She faithfully traces his name with quick bitten fingernails Through the tears of condensation that'll cry through the night As the glancing headlights of the last bus kiss adolescence goodbye In a warm wet circle Like a mothers kiss on your first broken heart, a warm wet circle Like a bullet hole in Central Park, a warm wet circle And I'll always surrender to the warm wet circles She nervously undressed in the dancing beams of the Fidra lighthouse Giving it all away before it's too late She'll let a lovers tongue move in a warm wet circle Giving it all away and showing no shame She'll take a mother's kiss on her first broken heart a warm wet circle She'll realise that she played her part in a warm wet circle It was a wedding ring Destined to be found in a cheap hotel Lost in a kitchen sink or thrown in a wishing well HOTEL HOBBIES Hotel hobbies padding dawns hollow corridors Bell boys checking out the hookers in the bar Slug-like fingers trace the star-spangled clouds of cocaine on the mirror The short straw took its bow The tell tale tocking of the last cigarette Marking time in the packet as the whisky sweat Lies like discarded armour on an unmade bed And a familiar craving is crawling in his head And the only sign of life is the ticking of the pen Introducing characters to memories like old friends Frantic as a cardiograph scratching out the lines A fever of confession a catalogue of crime in happy hour Do you cry in happy hour, do you hide in happy hour The pilgrimage to happy hour New shadows tugging at the corner of his eye Jostling for attention as the sunlight flares Through a curtain's tear, shuffling its beams As if in nervous anticipation of another day | ||
| Cornelius Vanvig
Intermediate Member Username: corneliusvanvig Post Number: 346 Registered: 08-2005 |
Well, we obviously need some hillbilly music to round this selection out. So here's some John Prine: Your Flag Decal Won't Get You Into Heaven Anymore While digesting Reader's Digest In the back of a dirty book store, A plastic flag, with gum on the back, Fell out on the floor. Well, I picked it up and I ran outside Slapped it on my window shield, And if I could see old Betsy Ross I'd tell her how good I feel. Chorus: But your flag decal won't get you Into Heaven any more. They're already overcrowded From your dirty little war. Now Jesus don't like killin' No matter what the reason's for, And your flag decal won't get you Into Heaven any more. Well, I went to the bank this morning And the cashier he said to me, "If you join the Christmas club We'll give you ten of them flags for free." Well, I didn't mess around a bit I took him up on what he said. And I stuck them stickers all over my car And one on my wife's forehead. Repeat Chorus: Well, I got my window shield so filled With flags I couldn't see. So, I ran the car upside a curb And right into a tree. By the time they got a doctor down I was already dead. And I'll never understand why the man Standing in the Pearly Gates said... "But your flag decal won't get you Into Heaven any more. We're already overcrowded From your dirty little war. Now Jesus don't like killin' No matter what the reason's for, And your flag decal won't get you Into Heaven any more." =========================================== Spanish Pipedream (AKA Blow Up Your TV) She was a level-headed dancer on the road to alcohol And I was just a soldier on my way to Montreal Well she pressed her chest against me About the time the juke box broke Yeah, she gave me a peck on the back of the neck And these are the words she spoke Chorus: Blow up your TV throw away your paper Go to the country, build you a home Plant a little garden, eat a lot of peaches Try an find Jesus on your own Well, I sat there at the table and I acted real naive For I knew that topless lady had something up her sleeve Well, she danced around the bar room and she did the hoochy-coo Yeah she sang her song all night long, tellin' me what to do Repeat chorus: Well, I was young and hungry and about to leave that place When just as I was leavin', well she looked me in the face I said "You must know the answer." "She said, "No but I'll give it a try." And to this very day we've been livin' our way And here is the reason why We blew up our TV threw away our paper Went to the country, built us a home Had a lot of children, fed 'em on peaches They all found Jesus on their own =========================================== Hello In There We had an apartment in the city, Me and Loretta liked living there. Well, it'd been years since the kids had grown, A life of their own left us alone. John and Linda live in Omaha, And Joe is somewhere on the road. We lost Davy in the Korean war, And I still don't know what for, don't matter anymore. Chorus: Ya' know that old trees just grow stronger, And old rivers grow wilder ev'ry day. Old people just grow lonesome Waiting for someone to say, "Hello in there, hello." Me and Loretta, we don't talk much more, She sits and stares through the back door screen. And all the news just repeats itself Like some forgotten dream that we've both seen. Someday I'll go and call up Rudy, We worked together at the factory. But what could I say if asks "What's new?" "Nothing, what's with you? Nothing much to do." Repeat Chorus: So if you're walking down the street sometime And spot some hollow ancient eyes, Please don't just pass 'em by and stare As if you didn't care, say, "Hello in there, hello." | ||
| Helen Margaret Rees
Member Username: cinnamonbrandy Post Number: 70 Registered: 09-2006 |
Oh, Vanya - it's summer now but all the trees are dying They said there was no danger; they were lying. What turns summer into winter we should fear. Oh Vanya - the poison in the trees is in your body When winter comes they say you will die quickly They say that you won't see your fourteenth year. I was there when you were born - I held you in my arms The joy: the fear: the wonder I felt then and I feel still You never will. Oh, Vanya - if only I could take the sickness from you And take it to myself you know, I would do But how can I cure that which can't be cured? Oh, Vanya - soon many more beloved sons and daughters Will be mourned by their mothers and their fathers Left to endure what cannot be endured. Life will return again, they say! The trees will bloom again. Though I may see their promises of brave new life fulfilled You never will. Okay - off to blow my nose and stop snivelling... Anyone already know this? It's by quite a famous songwriter who's known for distinctly different stuff, on the whole. Helen Okay - for a while, I'm going to come here every time a song makes me cry uncontrollably. I blame you for the moonlit sky And the dreams that died with the eagle's flight I blame you for the moonlit nights When I wonder why are the seas still dry Don't blame this sleeping satellite Did we fly to the moon too soon Did we squander the chance the rush of the race the reason we chase Is lost in romance And still we try! To justify the waste for a taste of man's greatest adventure repeat chorus Have we lost what it takes to advance - Did we peak too soon If the world is so great why does it scream under a blue moon We wonder why is the earth sacrificed For the price its greatest treasure repeat chorus And when we shoot for the stars What a giant step - Have we got what it takes to carry the weight of this greatest concept Or pass it by Like a shot in the dark With a sense of adventure Don't blame the sleeping satellite... Tasmin Archer - shoot the moon, hon. (Message edited by cinnamonbrandy on March 16, 2007) |
