Poem Christmas Eve
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Poem Christmas Eve
"Christmas Eve"
In granite shades
Crystal revelations
Thread a needle
Through the eye
And the beast returns
To snowy plains
And crying crows
Around the chimney tops
Porridge with some tea and honey
Wishing he'd never existed
Pottering in the house
Praying the past will go away
A still and pregnant mood is
A table set for one
The bird has flown
A soft and slushy solitaire
Ambles in the dark
Four in the pm
Darkness heavy as a marsh
The night comes on
Cold and lonely
Telephone rings
No one’s there
2018 Charles Murray
In granite shades
Crystal revelations
Thread a needle
Through the eye
And the beast returns
To snowy plains
And crying crows
Around the chimney tops
Porridge with some tea and honey
Wishing he'd never existed
Pottering in the house
Praying the past will go away
A still and pregnant mood is
A table set for one
The bird has flown
A soft and slushy solitaire
Ambles in the dark
Four in the pm
Darkness heavy as a marsh
The night comes on
Cold and lonely
Telephone rings
No one’s there
2018 Charles Murray
Re: Poem Christmas Eve
Hi Charles
Your poem about Christmas Eve gives a strange impression
We could talk about it later.
Your poem about Christmas Eve gives a strange impression
We could talk about it later.
_________________
La langue c'est Le Lien,
Language is The Link,
La Lengua es el Nexo de unión,
Sprache ist die Verbindung,
Il Linguaggio è Il Legame,
La Lingvo estas La Ligilo etc.
MurielB- Admin
- Messages : 18951
Lieu : Calais
Langues : Français (Langue maternelle), Espéranto, Gb, De, It, Es, chinois
Re: Poem Christmas Eve
MurielB a écrit:Hi Charles
Your poem about Christmas Eve gives a strange impression
We could talk about it later.
Thank you Muriel, for commenting on my piece.
It is a little bit strange, isn't it? It was written about two years ago describing a vision I had after talking to a friend who I felt was very alone. It reminds me of the line from the Beatles song (Eleanor Rigby), "All the lonely people, where do they all come from?"
Dernière édition par CharlesRM le Dim 7 Juil - 4:50, édité 1 fois
Re: Poem Christmas Eve
For info:
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been
Lives in a dream
Waits at the window, wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for?
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?
Father McKenzie writing the words of a sermon that no one will hear
No one comes near
Look at him working, darning his socks in the night when there's nobody there
What does he care?
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Eleanor Rigby died in the church and was buried along with her name
Nobody came
Father McKenzie wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from the grave
No one was saved
All the lonely people
(Ah, look at all the lonely people)
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
(Ah, look at all the lonely people)
Where do they all belong?
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been
Lives in a dream
Waits at the window, wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for?
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?
Father McKenzie writing the words of a sermon that no one will hear
No one comes near
Look at him working, darning his socks in the night when there's nobody there
What does he care?
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Eleanor Rigby died in the church and was buried along with her name
Nobody came
Father McKenzie wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from the grave
No one was saved
All the lonely people
(Ah, look at all the lonely people)
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
(Ah, look at all the lonely people)
Where do they all belong?
Re: Poem Christmas Eve
On my album, The Eighth Muse, "Christmas Eve" is followed by this one, called "Hands Of Time".
How does it make you feel?
"Hands Of Time"
This grand father
This sombre case
This pondering chain
And pendulous objection
To my losing hours
I will talk to anyone
Even you, obsessed with minutiae
Precise, precise
You always count twice
Your bronze face
And steady hands
And chimings on the hour
Every hour
2018 Charles Murray
How does it make you feel?
"Hands Of Time"
This grand father
This sombre case
This pondering chain
And pendulous objection
To my losing hours
I will talk to anyone
Even you, obsessed with minutiae
Precise, precise
You always count twice
Your bronze face
And steady hands
And chimings on the hour
Every hour
2018 Charles Murray
Dernière édition par CharlesRM le Dim 7 Juil - 4:51, édité 1 fois
Re: Poem Christmas Eve
I feel I have 2 opposite feelings
The clock helps me to meditate and at the time makes me obsessed with exactness. I can let go but also become very meticulous
The clock helps me to meditate and at the time makes me obsessed with exactness. I can let go but also become very meticulous
_________________
La langue c'est Le Lien,
Language is The Link,
La Lengua es el Nexo de unión,
Sprache ist die Verbindung,
Il Linguaggio è Il Legame,
La Lingvo estas La Ligilo etc.
MurielB- Admin
- Messages : 18951
Lieu : Calais
Langues : Français (Langue maternelle), Espéranto, Gb, De, It, Es, chinois
Re: Poem Christmas Eve
MurielB a écrit:I feel I have 2 opposite feelings
The clock helps me to meditate and at the time makes me obsessed with exactness. I can let go but also become very meticulous
Thanks Muriel, for taking the time to comment. This poem was born of witnessing the inexorable march of time as represented by an old grandfather clock I used to live with. It used to tick very loudly, especially, it seemed, in the still of the night.
Joyeuses fêtes !
Re: Poem Christmas Eve
Hello
As part of the 2024 re-publication of "The Eighth Muse", I have re-recorded the two songs in this post.
Here they are, with French translations :
"Christmas Eve"
In granite shades
Crystal revelations
Thread a needle through the eye
And the beast returns to snowy plains
And crying crows
Around the chimney tops
Porridge with some tea and honey
Wishing he'd never existed
Pottering in the house
Praying the past
Will go away
A still and pregnant mood is
A table set for one
The bird has flown
A soft and slushy solitaire
Ambles in the dark
Four in the pm
Darkness heavy as a marsh
The night comes on
Cold and lonely
No lamp is lit
Telephone rings
Who could it be?
No one’s there
Traduction française :
"Réveillon de Noël"
En nuances granitiques
Révélations de cristal
S'enfilent par le chas d'une aiguille
Et la bête regagne les plaines enneigées
Et les corbeaux pleureurs
Autour des cimes des cheminées
Du porridge avec du thé et du miel
En souhaitant qu'il n'ait jamais existé
Il mijote dans la maison
Priant pour que le passé
S'en aille
Une humeur inerte et pesante s'installe
Une table dressée pour une personne
L'oiseau s'est envolé
Un solitaire dans la neige fondue
Se promène à travers le noir
Quatre heures de l'après-midi
L'obscurité est lourde comme un marais
La nuit se prépare
Froide et déserte
Aucune lampe n'est allumée
Le téléphone sonne
Qui est-ce ?
Personne n'est là
2024 The Getèmocy
"Hands Of Time"
This grand father
This sombre case
This pondering chain
And pendulous objection to my losing hours
I will talk to anyone
Even you, obsessed with minutiae
Precise, precise
You always count twice
Your bronze face
And steady hands
And chimings on the hour
Every hour
Traduction française :
“Les Aiguilles Du Temps”
Ce grand père
Ce coffre noir
Ce balancier contemplatif
Cette objection pendante à mes heures perdues
Je parlerai à n’importe qui
Même toi, obsédé par la minutie
Méticuleux, méticuleux
Tu comptes toujours deux fois
Ton visage de bronze
Et tes mains fermes
Et tes carillons à l’heure
Toutes les heures
2024 The Getèmocy
What do you think?
"The Eighth Muse", the new studio album from The Getèmocy, is available here : https://www.youtube.com/@thegetemocy
I will gradually be recording other albums too, so check back often !
“Art is how we decorate space, music is how we decorate time.” – Jean-Michel Basquiat
As part of the 2024 re-publication of "The Eighth Muse", I have re-recorded the two songs in this post.
Here they are, with French translations :
"Christmas Eve"
In granite shades
Crystal revelations
Thread a needle through the eye
And the beast returns to snowy plains
And crying crows
Around the chimney tops
Porridge with some tea and honey
Wishing he'd never existed
Pottering in the house
Praying the past
Will go away
A still and pregnant mood is
A table set for one
The bird has flown
A soft and slushy solitaire
Ambles in the dark
Four in the pm
Darkness heavy as a marsh
The night comes on
Cold and lonely
No lamp is lit
Telephone rings
Who could it be?
No one’s there
Traduction française :
"Réveillon de Noël"
En nuances granitiques
Révélations de cristal
S'enfilent par le chas d'une aiguille
Et la bête regagne les plaines enneigées
Et les corbeaux pleureurs
Autour des cimes des cheminées
Du porridge avec du thé et du miel
En souhaitant qu'il n'ait jamais existé
Il mijote dans la maison
Priant pour que le passé
S'en aille
Une humeur inerte et pesante s'installe
Une table dressée pour une personne
L'oiseau s'est envolé
Un solitaire dans la neige fondue
Se promène à travers le noir
Quatre heures de l'après-midi
L'obscurité est lourde comme un marais
La nuit se prépare
Froide et déserte
Aucune lampe n'est allumée
Le téléphone sonne
Qui est-ce ?
Personne n'est là
2024 The Getèmocy
"Hands Of Time"
This grand father
This sombre case
This pondering chain
And pendulous objection to my losing hours
I will talk to anyone
Even you, obsessed with minutiae
Precise, precise
You always count twice
Your bronze face
And steady hands
And chimings on the hour
Every hour
Traduction française :
“Les Aiguilles Du Temps”
Ce grand père
Ce coffre noir
Ce balancier contemplatif
Cette objection pendante à mes heures perdues
Je parlerai à n’importe qui
Même toi, obsédé par la minutie
Méticuleux, méticuleux
Tu comptes toujours deux fois
Ton visage de bronze
Et tes mains fermes
Et tes carillons à l’heure
Toutes les heures
2024 The Getèmocy
What do you think?
"The Eighth Muse", the new studio album from The Getèmocy, is available here : https://www.youtube.com/@thegetemocy
I will gradually be recording other albums too, so check back often !
“Art is how we decorate space, music is how we decorate time.” – Jean-Michel Basquiat
Re: Poem Christmas Eve
Oh, what a lovely surprise to discover these poems! I appreciate the words which follow one another like a slow motion film revealing images of great beauty. Poetry is music of the soul and leads it along the paths of our buried memories.
MicD- Messages : 31
Langues : Fr(langue mater) Gb,Esp,It,Port,néerlandais,occitan
CharlesRM aime ce message
Re: Poem Christmas Eve
MicD a écrit:Oh, what a lovely surprise to discover these poems! I appreciate the words which follow one another like a slow motion film revealing images of great beauty. Poetry is music of the soul and leads it along the paths of our buried memories.
Thank you ! That's very kind :-)
More here : https://www.youtube.com/@thegetemocy
Re: Poem Christmas Eve
Thank you Charles for enriching the forum with your poetry. It's very beautiful
_________________
La langue c'est Le Lien,
Language is The Link,
La Lengua es el Nexo de unión,
Sprache ist die Verbindung,
Il Linguaggio è Il Legame,
La Lingvo estas La Ligilo etc.
MurielB- Admin
- Messages : 18951
Lieu : Calais
Langues : Français (Langue maternelle), Espéranto, Gb, De, It, Es, chinois
CharlesRM aime ce message
Re: Poem Christmas Eve
MurielB a écrit:Thank you Charles for enriching the forum with your poetry. It's very beautiful
Thanks Muriel
It's nice to read that
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