Friday 30 August 2013

Beyond the rainbow...

Herbert Draper: By Summer Seas

I want to know what's beyond the Rainbow I see
Decided to leave here right now

I start to walk away on this rainy day
It makes me feel good so I won't give up

Then I came to there where the Rainbow is
It began to feel like a dream
I had never seen such a lovely place before this day

Life is a travel through time a mysterious path
Just hold on tight then You will carry on

If You feel a lot of rain inside Your soul
Get rid of the pain and keep Your head hold high

Then You'll come to there where the Rainbow is
It begins to feel like a dream
You will never see such a lovely place again

Thursday 29 August 2013

Raistlin and the rose

Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema: Thou Rose of all the Roses

Shadows, shadows and fever, no-one hears him cry so he turns to evil
Only now, only now does he know

Pains, always those pains, once he turns that way he will do it again
Only now, only now does he know, silver doom, unseen moon will show

As they dance under the moon they bring doom, 
he calls her friend and says he'll change
She calls him friend and he deceives again

Flowers, a scent of flowers, always on his mind so he deceives her
Only now, only now does she know

Love, love makes her blind, soon she follows him through the doors of time
Only now, only now does she know, silver doom, unseen moon will show

As they dance under the moon they bring doom, 
he calls her friend and says he'll change
She calls him friend and he deceives again


Tuesday 27 August 2013

Nothing else to try...

John William Godward: Mischief and Repose

Only nightmares before day break
Watchin to my cutted fingers
Nightmare follows, my life to take
I'm anxious along my fevers...

Half destroyed in fear
Find no salvation
Power of denigration...

Every morning i wake with fear
Uncertain for my life nad breath
Crazy phantoms creates my brain
Only a day dream for my death...

Fet to confess my dreams
Consulting with liars
Am i feeding my illusions...

This is my destiny
This is my reality
There is nothing else to try
Wait the moment to die...

This is all my real life
This is my depression
There are other creeps for me
When i will go to hell...

Is this real hell or part of it
Tumbling, creeping, tire me to death
Shade of terror makes me tremble
Confounded by liars the real truth...

Making me depressive
Talking to no one
Searching for the silence's eve...

This is my destiny
This is my reality
There is nothing else to try
Wait the moment to die

Friday 2 August 2013

It is the hour...

John Byam Shaw: The woman, The man And The Serpent

It is the hour when from the boughs 
The nightingale's high note is heard; 
It is the hour -- when lover's vows 
Seem sweet in every whisper'd word; 
And gentle winds and waters near, 
Make music to the lonely ear. 
Each flower the dews have lightly wet, 
And in the sky the stars are met, 
And on the wave is deeper blue, 
And on the leaf a browner hue, 
And in the Heaven that clear obscure 
So softly dark, and darkly pure, 
That follows the decline of day 
As twilight melts beneath the moon away.
(George Gordon Byron)


(Deep Purple - Son of Alerik)

Thursday 1 August 2013

When Immortals Die...

James Archer: La Mort d'Arthur

Then murmur'd Arthur, "Place me in the barge,"
And to the barge they came. There those three Queens
Put forth their hands, and took the King, and wept.
But she that rose the tallest of them all
And fairest, laid his head upon her lap,
And loosed the shatter'd casque, and chafed his hands,
And call'd him by his name, complaining loud
And dropping bitter tears against his brow
Striped with dark blood: for all his face was white
And colourless, and like the wither'd moon
Smote by the fresh beam of the springing east;
And all his greaves and cuisses dash'd with drops
Of onset; and the light and lustrous curls—
That made his forehead like a rising sun
High from the daïs-throne—were parch'd with dust;
Or, clotted into points and hanging loose,
Mix'd with the knightly growth that fringed his lips.
So like a shatter'd column lay the King;
Not like that Arthur who, with lance in rest,
From spur to plume a star of tournament,
Shot thro' the lists at Camelot, and charged
Before the eyes of ladies and of kings.

(Alfred Lord Tennyson - Morte d' Arthur)



(Refelection - When Immortals Die!)