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Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 3. Interlude I.

'O Edrehi, forbear to-night
Your ghostly legends of affright,
And let the Talmud rest in peace;
Spare us your dismal tales of death
That almost take away one's breath;
So doing, may your tribe increase.'

Thus the Sicilian said; then went
And on the spinet's rattling keys
Played Marianina, like a breeze
From Naples and the Southern seas,
That brings us the delicious scent
Of citron and of orange trees,
And memories of soft days of ease
At Capri and Amalfi spent.

'Not so,' the eager Poet said;
'At least, not so before I tell
The story of my Azrael,
An angel mortal as ourselves,
Which in an ancient tome I found
Upon a convent's dusty shelves,
Chained with an iron chain, and bound
In parchment, and with clasps of brass,
Lest from its prison, some dark day,
It might be stolen or steal away,
While the good friars were singing mass.

'It is a tale of Charlemagne,
When like a thunder-cloud, that lowers
And sweeps from mountain-crest to coast,
With lightning flaming through its showers,
He swept across the Lombard plain,
Beleaguering with his warlike train
Pavia, the country's pride and boast,
The City of the Hundred Towers.'

Thus heralded the tale began,
And thus in sober measure ran.

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 3. Interlude II.

Well pleased all listened to the tale,
That drew, the Student said, its pith
And marrow from the ancient myth
Of some one with an iron flail;
Or that portentous Man of Brass
Hephaestus made in days of yore,
Who stalked about the Cretan shore,
And saw the ships appear and pass,
And threw stones at the Argonauts,
Being filled with indiscriminate ire
That tangled and perplexed his thoughts;
But, like a hospitable host,
When strangers landed on the coast,
Heated himself red-hot with fire,
And hugged them in his arms, and pressed
Their bodies to his burning breast.

The Poet answered: 'No, not thus
The legend rose; it sprang at first
Out of the hunger and the thirst
In all men for the marvellous.
And thus it filled and satisfied
The imagination of mankind,
And this ideal to the mind
Was truer than historic fact.
Fancy enlarged and multiplied
The tenors of the awful name
Of Charlemagne, till he became
Armipotent in every act,
And, clothed in mystery, appeared
Not what men saw, but what they feared.

Besides, unless my memory fail,
Your some one with an iron flail
Is not an ancient myth at all,
But comes much later on the scene
As Talus in the Faerie Queene,
The iron groom of Artegall,
Who threshed out falsehood and deceit,
And truth upheld, and righted wrong,
As was, as is the swallow, fleet,
And as the lion is, was strong.'

The Theologian said: 'Perchance
Your chronicler in writing this
Had in his mind the Anabasis,
Where Xenophon describes the advance
Of Artaxerxes to the fight;
At first the low gray cloud of dust,
And then a blackness o'er the fields
As of a passing thunder-gust,
Then flash of brazen armor bright,
And ranks of men, and spears up-thrust,
Bowmen and troops with wicker shields,
And cavalry equipped in white,
And chariots ranged in front of these
With scythes upon their axle-trees.'

To this the Student answered: 'Well,
I also have a tale to tell
Of Charlemagne; a tale that throws
A softer light, more tinged with rose,
Than your grim apparition cast
Upon the darkness of the past.
Listen, and hear in English rhyme
What the good Monk of Lauresheim
Gives as the gossip of his time,
In mediaeval Latin prose.'

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. Interlude II.

Soon as the story reached its end,
One, over eager to commend,
Crowned it with injudicious praise;
And then the voice of blame found vent,
And fanned the embers of dissent
Into a somewhat lively blaze.

The Theologian shook his head;
'These old Italian tales,' he said,
'From the much-praised Decameron down
Through all the rabble of the rest,
Are either trifling, dull, or lewd;
The gossip of a neighborhood
In some remote provincial town,
A scandalous chronicle at best!
They seem to me a stagnant fen,
Grown rank with rushes and with reeds,
Where a white lily, now and then,
Blooms in the midst of noxious weeds
And deadly nightshade on its banks.'

To this the Student straight replied,
'For the white lily, many thanks!
One should not say, with too much pride,
Fountain, I will not drink of thee!
Nor were it grateful to forget,
That from these reservoirs and tanks
Even imperial Shakespeare drew
His Moor of Venice, and the Jew,
And Romeo and Juliet,
And many a famous comedy.'

Then a long pause; till some one said,
'An Angel is flying overhead!'
At these words spake the Spanish Jew,
And murmured with an inward breath:
'God grant, if what you say be true,
It may not be the Angel of Death!'
And then another pause; and then,
Stroking his beard, he said again:
'This brings back to my memory
A story in the Talmud told,
That book of gems, that book of gold,
Of wonders many and manifold,
A tale that often comes to me,
And fills my heart, and haunts my brain,
And never wearies nor grows old.'

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 3. Interlude V.

'Signor Luigi,' said the Jew,
When the Sicilian's tale was told,
'The were-wolf is a legend old,
But the were-ass is something new,
And yet for one I think it true.
The days of wonder have not ceased;
If there are beasts in forms of men,
As sure it happens now and then,
Why may not man become a beast,
In way of punishment at least?
'But this I will not now discuss,
I leave the theme, that we may thus
Remain within the realm of song.
The story that I told before,
Though not acceptable to all,
At least you did not find too long.
I beg you, let me try again,
With something in a different vein,
Before you bid the curtain fall.
Meanwhile keep watch upon the door,
Nor let the Landlord leave his chair,
Lest he should vanish into air,
And so elude our search once more.
Thus saying, from his lips he blew
A little cloud of perfumed breath,
And then, as if it were a clew
To lead his footsteps safely through,
Began his tale as followeth.

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Night Train To Lorca

Across the dark and dusty plain
Where scars of old dry rivers run
Night unfolds, a coal black shroud
Across the hard and stony ground
Distant stars shining bright
In the cavern of the night
All is still and silence screams
To the thunder of the lorca train
Flaming steal swift as wind
Wires hum the rails ring
Smokestack burning fiery sparks
Rise up to the stars
Towns asleep by empty roads
Churches rise from crooked roofs
Cloaked in darkness nothing stirs
Grow smaller darker disappear
See the moon so still and cold
A million stars that shed no warmth
Your nightmares all come out to play
In the silver light
Wait for sunrise in the east
Long shadows crawl across the plain
The ghosts of night will disappear
And lay your fears to rest
Steam hissed up, the hot coals glowed
The furnace blazed, the wheels they rolled
On tracks of iron, straight and cold
The silver moonlight danced
The flames are in the firemans eye
Orange in the engines glow
Gleaming pistons whirling cranks
Wait for dawn the roosters crow

song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sweet Lady Mary

(wood, stewart, lane)
Sweet lady mary has to rest her poor head
Wakes in the morning with her breakfast in bed
I tried to help her, but I did not know how
I tried to love her, but its all over now
Nothing left to comfort me, except a sunny day
Steal away, steal away
Over the stones along the dusty old road
With every footstep one more tale is told
With every turning one more side to see
Sweet lady marys seen the last of me
A lesson is learnt, Ill never come this way again
Ill steal away, steal away
Her spanish habits are so hard to forget
The lady lied with every breath, I accept
Was a matter of time before my face did not fit
I knew all along Id have to quit.
Anyway now, I better not waste anymore of your time
Ill steal away, steal away
I think Ill go back home and start all again
Where the gulf stream waters tend to ease the pain
And on a new day when Ive mended the wound
Sweet lady marys gate I swear Ill be bound
But before I sit down again and waste anymore of your time
I better steal away, steal away
Ooh-hoo
Steal away-ay.

song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Madman

'I should go mad,' he said, 'in such a place!
The lack of company, the loneliness!
Nothing but trees to stare you in the face;
Nothing to do; no life; no pep; no pace!
I'd die of melancholy.' I said 'Yes?'
'Why, yes,' said he. 'The suburbs can be bad.
But this? Why, heavens, man! I should go mad.'

'What do you do?' he said. 'How find a way
To pass the time? Of course, the country's great
For rest and that' (I wished he'd go away;
I had a hundred things to do that day).
'Oh, well,' I said, 'I think; I meditate
And - ' 'Think? A man can't always think
Not all the time. Good lord! I'd take to drink!

'I'd go stone mad,' he said. 'I know the trees
And birds and sky, and all that sort of stuff
Please for a while. But man can't live on these.
I've got my love of nature's harmonies;
But, spare me days, man, nature's not enough.
You work, you say. But then, when work is done,
What in the thunder do you do for fun?

'Ah, well,' he said. 'It's peaceful, that I'll say.
Er - what's the time? Good heavens, I must go!
I've got a crowd of men to see to-day;
I'll miss the train! I must be on my way.
Can't spare another half a minute. So,
Good-bye. I wonder you're not dilly, lad.'
'Ah, that's just it,' I told him. 'I am mad.'

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 2. Interlude II.

'I thought before your tale began,'
The Student murmured, 'we should have
Some legend written by Judah Rav
In his Gemara of Babylon;
Or something from the Gulistan,--
The tale of the Cazy of Hamadan,
Or of that King of Khorasan
Who saw in dreams the eyes of one
That had a hundred years been dead
Still moving restless in his head,
Undimmed, and gleaming with the lust
Of power, though all the rest was dust.

'But lo! your glittering caravan
On the road that leadeth to Ispahan
Hath led us farther to the East
Into the regions of Cathay.
Spite of your Kalif and his gold,
Pleasant has been the tale you told,
And full of color; that at least
No one will question or gainsay.
And yet on such a dismal day
We need a merrier tale to clear
The dark and heavy atmosphere.
So listen, Lordlings, while I tell,
Without a preface, what befell
A simple cobbler, in the year ?
No matter; it was long ago;
And that is all we need to know.'

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Thunder And Lightning

THUNDER AND LIGHTNING I thought it was love
That hurt so bad,
But all of this time I was a fool being had.
Now it's the last stop for you, baby,
On my gravy train.
Well, I don't understand
How I could be so short of memory,
How I could just leave my pride in the rain.
No more thunder and lightning.
Nobody's gonna wrap me 'round their finger.
No more thunder and lightning.
Ain't gonna let you treat me like a prisoner.
You played with my mind,
Baby, much too long.
You played with my head
Until all feelin' was gone.
Now I'm out of patience and money,
And my heart is numb.
You kept me in the dark,
But now I finally see some daylight.
I've got a chance.
I'm gonna run, baby, run.
No more thunder and lightning.
Nobody's gonna wrap me 'round their finger.
No more thunder and lightning.
Ain't gonna let you treat me like a prisoner.
Nobody's gonna pull this thing back together.
It's too far out of hand.
If you wanna give it one more try,
Try it with another man.
[Guitar Interlude]
No more thunder and lightning.
Nobody's gonna wrap me 'round their finger.
No more thunder and lightning.
Ain't gonna let you treat me like a prisoner.
[Repeat Chorus]

song performed by by Richard Marx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spring's Accomplishments

Spring brings with it a warm, gentle breeze
Along with the trees sprouting their baby soft leaves
Gently tapping the ground are the soft showers
Bringing around soft, springtime flowers
Now here they come, the butterflies and the bees
Attracted to the gardens and newly awakened trees
The trees emanate such a calming scent of sap
And the birds nestle down for a peaceful nap
As Easter approaches, the sunshine gets stronger
And as spring continues, the days get longer
The spring goes into a deep slumber
And who takes over then? It's summer!

poem by Caroline Bulleck
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Amalfi

Mountains erupt from the Mediterranean
Pastel buildings cascade down their side
Architecture and the sea acts as prisms
Creating a: kissed by the sun- spectrum of delight;
A handful of villages will be your backdrop
Upon your journey of the Amalfi coast
You will travel the fabled serpentine Amalfi road
Ah, Italia...You are such a wonderful host! ;
Pastel coloured towns-invite you
As they cling to the craggy cliffs most divine
Vertical landscapes are fit for a King
The sandy coves-and brightly coloured villages-sublime;
'Tis home to Ulysses' mythical sirens
The Amalfi coast-calls to you
From the past times ancient ruins
Or cruising the Isle of Capri's waters of blue;
Oh, so many incredible places and food-
Ravello and Positano are but a few
Exquisite to all of ones senses-
Italia, oh Italia-'tis calling you! ;

By, Theodora Onken

February 4,2012

poem by Theodora Onken
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Living A Boys Adventure Tale

(pal waaktaar/morten harket)
Ive fixed my dwelling for the night
Lights in pairs come passing by
Where I hide
I need some time now on my own
Leave my loneliness alone
To lick my wounds
Night has found me just in time
To help me close my eyes
One more time
Living a boys adventure tale
In so many ways
Living a boys adventure tale
For so many days
Im living a boys adventure tale
Cant escape, if I wanted to
Living a boys adventure tale
I may be dreaming but I feel awake
Ive been lost in so many places
Seeked love in so many faces
A change of weather,
The rain pours down
My head in hands,
Pressed to the ground
And where am I supposed to go now
Living a boys adventure tale
In so many ways
Living a boys adventure tale (aah)
Living a boys adventure tale
A voice I hear
Living a boys adventure tale
Singing a lullaby for me
Living a boys adventure tale
Because of you
Living a boys adventure
Oh you know its true
Living a boys adventure tale
In so many ways (aah)
For so many days
I love you. I love you
So many ways

song performed by by A-Ha
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crossing the Grand Sierras

All aboard! all aboard!
The hissing breath of the iron steed
Proclaims his wish to be quickly freed;
And soon as the stroke from the bell we hear,
He springs at the touch of his engineer,
And a way we glide
O'er prairies wide,
Through verdant vales,
And mountain dales,
To the last great chain,
Which has striv'n in vain
With the Lightning! the Lightning!
the Lightning Palace Train.

Forgetting far Atlantic,
And midway scenes romantic,
We scale the peaks gigantic,
Which guard the Land of Gold:
Here silver rills are leaping,
Here lovely lakes are sleeping,
And snowclad granites keeping
Their "watch of years" untold.

We sing a wond'rous story,
No nation sang before!
A Continental Chorus,
That echoes either shore:
We sang it on the summit!
We sing it on the plain!
We've climbed the Grand Sierras
With the Lightning Palace Train,
With the Lighning! the Lighning!
the Lightning Palace Train.

All aboard! all aboard!
No toil can tire our important steed,
So once again will we test his speed!
How quick is the wish of our hearts obey'd!
He starts at the turn of the downward grade,
And again we glide
By torent side,
O'er trestl'd deeps,
Through tunel'd steeps,
While the victries wane
Which they sought to gain
With the Lightning! the Lightning!
the Lightning Palace Train.

'Neath timber'd roofs unending,
From winters snows defending,
Through canyons wild descending
To the City of the Plain:
We leave the scenes terrific,
We pass the fields prolific,
And view the broad Pacific--
The Golden gated main.

poem by Henry Clay Work
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Never Ending Story (live Acoustic Version)

Armies have conquered
And fallen in the end
Kingdoms have risen
Then buried by sand
The Earth is our mother
She gives and she takes
She puts us to sleep and
In her light we'll awake
We'll all be forgotten
There's no endless fame
But everything we do
Is never in vain
We're part of a story, part of a tale
We're all on this journey
No one is to stay
Where ever it's going
What is the way?
Forests and deserts
Rivers, blue seas
Mountains and valleys
Nothing here stays
While we think we witness
We are part of the scene
This never-ending story
Where will it lead to?
The earth is our mother
She gives and she takes
But she is also a part
A part of the tale
We're part of a story, part of a tale
We're all on this journey
No one is to stay
Where ever it's going
What is the way?
We're part of a story, part of a tale
Sometimes beautiful and sometimes insane
No one remembers how it began

song performed by by Within Temptation
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Orange juice kiss

A circle of dried, sweet orange juice
Finger to mouth, the taste memories seduce

Memories of that sweet orange juice kiss
Thoughts race to the past and days of bliss

The giggling young angel standing at the bedside
The past and the present, emotions collide

Those glorious hours playing in the park
Warm sunny days before the onset of dark

When long summer day’s end and it’s time to rest
Sweet angel climbs up and lays head on my chest

If there’s one memory that brings me this bliss
It’s the memory of that sweet orange juice kiss

poem by Brian 'Peza' Perrins
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Naples – 1860

I GIVE thee joy!—I know to thee
The dearest spot on earth must be
Where sleeps thy loved one by the summer sea;

Where, near her sweetest poet’s tomb,
The land of Virgil gave thee room
To lay thy flower with her perpetual bloom.

I know that when the sky shut down
Behind thee on the gleaming town,
On Baiae’s baths and Posilippo’s crown;

And, through thy tears, the mocking day
Burned Ischia’s mountain lines away,
And Capri melted in its sunny bay;

Through thy great farewell sorrow shot
The sharp pang of a bitter thought
That slaves must tread around that holy spot.

Thou knewest not the land was blest
In giving thy beloved rest,
Holding the fond hope closer to her breast,

That every sweet and saintly grave
Was freedom’s prophecy, and gave
The pledge of Heaven to sanctify and save.

That pledge is answered. To thy ear
The unchained city sends its cheer,
And, tuned to joy, the muffled bells of fear

Ring Victor in. The land sits free
And happy by the summer sea,
And Bourbon Naples now is Italy!

She smiles above her broken chain
The languid smile that follows pain,
Stretching her cramped limbs to the sun again.

Oh, joy for all, who hear her call
From gray Camaldoli’s convent wall
And Elmo’s towers to freedom’s carnival!

A new life breathes among her vines
And olives, like the breath of pines
Blown downward from the breezy Apennines.

Lean, O my friend, to meet that breath,
Rejoice as one who witnesseth
Beauty from ashes rise, and life from death!

Thy sorrow shall no more be pain,
Its tears shall fall in sunlit rain,
Writing the grave with flowers: “Arisen again!”

poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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The Call of the Bush

Three roads there are that climb and wind
Amongst the hills, and leave behind
The patterned orchards, sloping down
To meet a little country town.

And of these roads I'll take the one
That tops the ridges, where the sun
Is tempered by the mountain-breeze
And dancing shadows of the trees.

The road is rough - but to my feet
Softer than is the city street;
And then the trees! - how beautiful
She-oak and gum - how fresh and cool!

No walls there are to hamper me;
Only in blue infinity
The distant mountain-ramparts rise
Beneath the broad arch of the skies.

And in that high place I shall hear
The wild birds' singing, soft and clear;
And horse-bells tinkling as of old
In amongst the wattles' gold

Far-off is the ocean tide;
But there across the country-side
Roll waves of bush that rise and fall
To break against the mountain-wall.

And every little farm is seen
An island in a sea of green;
And every little farm at night
Flings through the dark its beacon-light -

There in the silence of the hills,
I shall find peace that soothes and stills
The throbbing of the weary brain, -
For I am going home again.

poem by Dora Wilcox
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Peace Train

[ cat stevens ]
[ banned from later u.s. copies of in my tribe due to cat stevens agreement to the fatwah issued against salman rushdie ]
Now Ive been happy lately, thinking about the good things to come
And I believe it could be, something good has begun
Oh Ive been smiling lately, dreaming about the world as one
And I believe it could be, some day its going to come
Cos out on the edge of darkness, there rides a peace train
Oh peace train take this country, come take me home again
Now Ive been smiling lately, thinking about the good things to come
And I believe it could be, something good has begun
Oh peace train sounding louder
Glide on the peace train oh ah ee ah oh ah
Come on now peace train
Yes, peace train holy roller
Everyone jump on the peace train oh ah ee ah oh ah
Come on now peace train
Get your bags together, go bring your good friends too
Cos its getting nearer, it soon will be with you
Now come and join the living, its not so far from you
And its getting nearer, soon it will all be true
Oh peace train sounding louder
Glide on the peace train oh ah ee ah oh ah
Come on now peace train, peace train
Now Ive been crying lately, thinking about the world as it is
Why must we go on hating, why cant we live in bliss
Cos out on the edge of darkness, there rides a peace train
Oh peace train take this country, come take me home again
Oh peace train sounding louder
Glide on the peace train oh ah ee ah oh ah
Come on now the peace train
Yes peace train holy roller
Everyone jump on the peace train oh ah ee ah oh ah
Come on, come on, come on
Yes come on peace train
Yes its the peace train
Oh ah ee ah oh ah
Come on now peace train
Oh peace train

song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fairy tale gone wrong?

It began like a fairy tale
A woman and a male
Out of two different cultures
In search for adventures
They truly liked each other
A smile followed another

Where did the fairy tale go wrong
Can you tell me just this one
It has been about six weeks
That I feel misery so strong
that she seems to be gone
that my ship has some leaks

Why did the fairy tale turn false
I know that she truly likes me
The only thought that consoles
but as long as I don’t see
her smiling face again
only pain does remain

Do you remember the old fairy tales
Can you see the story that never fails
To show you that love always wins
Whatever difficulties or hard sins
For us a hard time seems worse enough
Just six weeks do seem much too tough

Where did this fairy tale go bad
Why do the last weeks turn me mad
It’s a story that makes me sad
Only you could make me glad

poem by Michael Saurer
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Well-Met Dearest

In Autumn least of all
Stranger things have occurred

Within the Mountain Flowers
Granted, their May is long gone,
And the long Autumn'd hours
Are nigh upon their evening dawn

Mystery abounds in the Summer's fall
With good reason, tall tales have endured
A time of Death, a destructive breeze
That loosens the leaves and stiffens the trees

For someone who admires the sunset
The breeze whispers a sweeter tale
For this one, Autumn is well- met
Begetting a heart-warming, Winter Pale

poem by Ryan C. Walker
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Ease Along

Spent all of his life in love with money
Never found love he never got lucky no
One hundred are the times he tried
And every time he lost a part of him died
Love can be found the people would tell
So he threw his heart
In the wishing well
Young julie the girl from the city
With eyes full of pain and a heart
Full of pity yeah and she said...
No use cryin bout your living dying
Youre gotta make your peace
And and let your livin just ease along
Let your livin just ease along
Youve got to give up livin your life like a demon
Find your heart and the why, and the where,
And the reason
Oh - oh - oh
She took him up the mountain side
Where the air was clear and the water was wine
She loved him when the night was still
And the stars danced on the window sill
And over and over again
The lovers looked out from the mountain rim
There was no need to reach for the stars
You could catsh them all night and keep them in jars
And she told him...
No use cryin bout your living dying
Youre gotta make your peace
And and let your livin just ease along
Let your livin just ease along
Youve got to give up livin your life like a demon
Find your heart and the why, and the where,
And the reason
Ease along youve got to ease along
Spent all his life in love with money-ease along
Never found love never got lucky-ease along
With eyes full of pain and her heart full of pity-
Ease along
Young julie the girl from the city said-ease along

song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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