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Aurora Borealis

Quotes about Aurora Borealis, page 2

Pocahontas

Aurora borealis
The icy sky at night
Our paddles break the water
In a long and hurried flight
From the white man and the fields of green
And the homeland weve never seen
They killed us in our tepee
They cut our women down
They might have left some babies
Cryin on the ground
But the big guns and the wagon wheels come
Yes, and the night falls on the setting sun
They massacred the buffalo
Kitty corner from the bank
The taxis run across my feet
And my eyes have turned to blanks
In my little room at the top of the stairs
With an indian rug and a pipe to share
I wish a was a trapper
I would give thousand pelts

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Badfinger

Bandfinger is a British rock band,
Paul McCartney writes a song that makes them land,
land on top of the charts, they are off to a great start.
New manager is signed, but all money is spent,
they are famous but can't pay the rent,
Two band members want to leave this life,
one left a note, the other does decide
he wants to be with him,
So does something really grim.
I meet Joey Molland who is lead singer now,
He's at the Aurora Borealis studios.
I go to see Joey's new Badfinger band,
at the Taste of MN and in Wisconsin Cheese land,
I had already met Bad Finger's bass electric guitarist and Mark is his name,
I record my audio books at Cottage House which is not lame.
In the front of the Cottage House is a mansion quite charming
it has offices in it and an alarm for alarming.
Anyways, I recorded "Razel Sings the Blues" and
"Unfreezing Prince Emeray" and "Sarah's Special Birthday".
Even audio of "UniCandle's Flame"

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Mystic Rythms

So many things I think about
When I look far away
Things I know, Things I wonder
Thins I'd like to say.
The more we think we know about
The greater the unknown
We suspend our disbelief
And we are not alone.
Mystic rhythms, capture my thoughts
And carry them away
Mysteries of night
Escape the light of day
Mystic rhythms, under northern lights
Or the African sun
Primitive things stir the hearts of everyone.
We sometimes catch a window
A glimpse of what's beyond
Was it just imagination
Stringing us along?
More things than are dreamed about

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Hawker, the Standard Bearer

The grey gull sat on a floating whale,
On a floating whale sat he,
And he told his tale of the storm and the gale,
And the ships that he saw with steam and sail,
As he flew by the Northern Sea.
"I have seen a sign that is strange and new,
That I never before did see:
A flying ship that roared as it flew,
The storm and the tempest driving through,
It carried a flag and it carried a crew,
Now what would that be?" said he.

"And the flag was a Jack with stars displayed,
A flag that is new to me;
For it does not ply in the Northern trade,
But it drove through the storm-wrack unafraid,
Now, what is that flag?" said he.

"I have seen that flag that is starred with white,"
Said a southern gull, said he,

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My Sweet Melissa

I loved you yesterday
as the oceans raveled
as the northern lights cracked
as the earth rumbled
you say you LOVE me
still
I hurt you so
only a short time ago
never letting me go
I want you to know
I will remain your husband
for the rest of my life
If you will have me always
as
MY WIFE

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The Spitfire

‘Scramble! '
‘Take the lead, Blue Leader, '
Spat the voice on the R/T,
While the ground crew pulled the chocks
Another plugged the battery,
Then the prop was turning over
And the Merlin roared to life
As the pilot, Michael Adams,
Kissed the picture of his wife!

They had only just been married
On a sudden 36,
They had just one night together
Then raced back to face the blitz,
She to work the board, the plotter,
He to fly, and do his best,
There were twelve of them together
Flying over Sheerness!

There were Dorniers and Junkers

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The Ballad Of The Northern Lights

One of the Down and Out--that's me. Stare at me well, ay, stare!
Stare and shrink--say! you wouldn't think that I was a millionaire.
Look at my face, it's crimped and gouged--one of them death-mask things;
Don't seem the sort of man, do I, as might be the pal of kings?
Slouching along in smelly rags, a bleary-eyed, no-good bum;
A knight of the hollow needle, pard, spewed from the sodden slum.
Look me all over from head to foot; how much would you think I was worth?
A dollar? a dime? a nickel? Why, I'm the wealthest man on earth.

No, don't you think that I'm off my base. You'll sing a different tune
If only you'll let me spin my yarn. Come over to this saloon;
Wet my throat--it's as dry as chalk, and seeing as how it's you,
I'll tell the tale of a Northern trail, and so help me God, it's true.
I'll tell of the howling wilderness and the haggard Arctic heights,
Of a reckless vow that I made, and how I staked the Northern Lights.

Remember the year of the Big Stampede and the trail of Ninety-eight,
When the eyes of the world were turned to the North, and the hearts of men elate;
Hearts of the old dare-devil breed thrilled at the wondrous strike,
And to every man who could hold a pan came the message, "Up and hike".

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January as Poet-Lover

Those claims to summer far exceeds its charm
and slush of lines can't toboggan sonnet;
for winter's octave storms, but isn't warm,
sestet swoons- fringed with frost upon it.
Then wind will howl sheer air that it's a poem
for First of Months must bluster: 'I'm adored! '
It schemes blooms, find some dirty glee in loam-
Such dreams! unless what's frozen wets to poured.
Sure, northern lights style flair-yet coat of leaves?
That fashion's fallen season! Jan. will go
to parties; just with ice, and dance solo
avalanche at night; party slides like skis....
Month's quick as chills and yet it's sprawls slow ice
and tries to end with couplet, July twice!


Those claims to summer far exceeds its charm.
No slushy lines toboggan-glide on sonnet;
nor winter's octave storm go down as warm
while sestet swoons- cool, frost moon upon it.

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Milky Skin Morning Star

Milky skin morning star,
Venusian beauty bathing
in breathtaking light,
aurora borealis illuminating
desolate northern skies,
soothing bedside blanket
comforting lonely nights.
For you to rest an open palm
on my bare chest is enough,
Place a hand upon my waist,
let it linger,
Staring down into eyes
ever so loving and wide,
void of soft blue bliss
silent lullaby of agonizing joy

oceanic eyes, so vast so blue
iris halo of infinite horizon
coalescence of heaven and sea
Purest of pleasure,

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Your Poems...

addictive
enslaving, compelling
ecstatic
northern lights
halo
a vent and running
electricity over our
bodies
nutritional, redeeming
scenic
imagery, a painting that
speaks to you
a sculpture that seems
more real
a running river
a deep ocean
a singing shell
a banquet alone
a Bedouin riding on his horse
towards an oasis

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Little Green

Born with the moon in cancer
Choose her a name she will answer to
Call her green and the winters cannot fade her
Call her green for the children whove made her
Little green, be a gypsy dancer
He went to california
Hearing that everythings warmer there
So you write him a letter and say, her eyes are blue.
He sends you a poem and shes lost to you
Little green, hes a non-conformer
Ch0rus:
Just a little green
Like the color when the spring is born
Therell be crocuses to bring to school tomorrow
Just a little green
Like the nights when the northern lights perform
Therell be icicles and birthday clothes
And sometimes therell be sorrow
Child with a child pretending
Weary of lies you are sending home

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Rudyard Kipling

The Rhyme Of The Three Sealers

Away by the lands of the Japanee
Where the paper lanterns glow
And the crews of all the shipping drink
In the house of Blood Street Joe,
At twilight, when the landward breeze
Brings up the harbour noise,
And ebb of Yokohama Bay
Swigs chattering through the buoys,
In Cisco's Dewdrop Dining-Rooms
They tell the tale anew
Of a hidden sea and a hidden fight,
When the ~Baltic~ ran from the ~Northern Light~
And the ~Stralsund~ fought the two.

Now this is the Law of the Muscovite, that he proves with shot and steel,
When ye come by his isles in the Smoky Sea ye must not take the seal,
Where the gray sea goes nakedly between the weed-hung shelves,
And the little blue fox he is bred for his skin
and the seal they breed for themselves;
For when the ~matkas~ seek the shore to drop their pups aland,

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Charles Baudelaire

Anywhere Out of the World

This life is a hospital where every patient is possessed with the desire to change beds; one man would like to
suffer in front of the stove, and another believes that he would recover his health beside the window.
It always seems to me that I should feel well in the place where I am not, and this question of removal is one
which I discuss incessantly with my soul.
'Tell me, my soul, poor chilled soul, what do you think of going to live in Lisbon? It must be warm there, and there
you would invigorate yourself like a lizard. This city is on the sea-shore; they say that it is built of marble
and that the people there have such a hatred of vegetation that they uproot all the trees. There you have a landscape
that corresponds to your taste! a landscape made of light and mineral, and liquid to reflect them!'
My soul does not reply.
'Since you are so fond of stillness, coupled with the show of movement, would you like to settle in Holland,
that beatifying country? Perhaps you would find some diversion in that land whose image you have so often admired
in the art galleries. What do you think of Rotterdam, you who love forests of masts, and ships moored at the foot of
houses?'
My soul remains silent.
'Perhaps Batavia attracts you more? There we should find, amongst other things, the spirit of Europe
married to tropical beauty.'
Not a word. Could my soul be dead?
'Is it then that you have reached such a degree of lethargy that you acquiesce in your sickness? If so, let us
flee to lands that are analogues of death. I see how it is, poor soul! We shall pack our trunks for Tornio. Let us go
farther still to the extreme end of the Baltic; or farther still from life, if that is possible; let us settle at the Pole. There

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To Lida

THE only one whom, Lida, thou canst love,

Thou claim'st, and rightly claim'st, for only thee;
He too is wholly thine; since doomed to rove

Far from thee, in life's turmoils nought I see
Save a thin veil, through which thy form I view,
As though in clouds; with kindly smile and true,

It cheers me, like the stars eterne that gleam
Across the northern-lights' far-flick'ring beam.

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Giving Reason A Break...

my own intelligence
does not serve me
resigned upon a certain
bleakness
i am into a break
on a broken piece of
glass
where i see a face in
shatters
the heart copes up
with some hues
like the northern lights
like star dusts

that realm that we touch
beyond our comprehension
that faith that we keep
beyond the fences of good reason

one wonders

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The Diplomatic Platypus

I had a duck-billed platypus when I was up at Trinity,
With whom I soon discovered a remarkable affinity.
He used to live in lodgings with myself and Arthur Purvis,
And we all went up together for the Diplomatic Service.
I had a certain confidence, I own, in his ability,
He mastered all the subjects with remarkable facility;
And Purvis, though more dubious, agreed that he was clever,
But no one else imagined he had any chance whatever.
I failed to pass the interview, the board with wry grimaces
Took exception to my boots and then objected to my braces,
And Purvis too was failed by an intolerant examiner
Who said he had his doubts as to his sock-suspender's stamina.
Our summary rejection, though we took it with urbanity
Was naturally wounding in some measure to our vanity;
The bitterness of failure was considerably mollified,
However, by the ease with which our platypus had qualified.
The wisdom of the choice, it soon appeared, was undeniable;
There never was a diplomat more thoroughly reliable.
He never made rash statements his enemies might hold him to,
He never stated anything, for no one ever told him to,

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Frozen Ash

Can you see me flash like lightning?
Can you hear me thunder o'er this blighting?
With dragon's breath you may burn me,
With a Titan's stare you may freeze me.
Like ghosts in the catacombs I will linger;
Never shall I fall!

So try your best, let your storms come.
Like a blizzard they will pass.
Like meteor showers they will end.
I won't become your frozen ash.
As for me, like the northern lights I shall shine.
You can't black me out.

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That Morning Walk....

in locomotion ideas unravel
as though
when the feet pedal something
in the forehead pops out
the two walk hand in hand
like friends
the mind on foot towards
an enlightened destination
on a boat of darkness
the sails move out to the open
meeting the light

awed we prostrate on the grounds
of our traditions
we kneel and rise and with open arms
embrace the newness of
each thing each idea like flashes of
the northern lights
in technicolor....

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Hidden Dreams

It's awesome
The summer brings perpetual light.
The birds are around all the time
singing their pretty tunes.
All summer through the flowers bloom.
The garden veggies grow huge.
In winter, when it's dark,
there are the Northern Lights
dancing across the sky
in a rainbow of colour;
our sweet delights.
The snow cover is beautiful.
You can relax and enjoy its peacefulness.
The dark of winter doesn't bother me at all
nor does the daylight of summer.
Alaska! Hidden dreams.

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The Jellyfish Chronicle

Beneath my tendrils,
The sea has many secrets
And I am the last witness

To ships that sink
To gulls that die
To hear the whales that cry
To see the births,
Far away from man's eye

Drifting under frozen seas
A last paradise where man has no welcome
Let nature be our shield
The Cold our government

This place where
The Northern lights dance
In honour to the ancestors

For we came before man

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