http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qj2diB6fcpgWhat is slightly odd is that this song went through my head around the 8th of October, so that I shared it with someone. I felt this morning an urge to put it on this board. I remembered to do it later. Then, because it's not a song I really have heard very much in my life, just something that occurred to me, for whatever reason, I looked this singer up and found that he had just recently died. Just a few weeks ago. I didn't know he was an Olympic skier at one time, but that's what I read about him. I found the recent partnered exploration I recorded here on the board a bit troublesome because I received absolutely no feedback from the person who called for it. But, now I understand that there was a reason for the ski slope in the partnered exploration that probably didn't have anything to do with what I thought I was doing. Okay, go ahead and call me crazy. I don't care. But, it's a bit weird. Ski slope? Olympic skier? This song going through my head? Okay, enough of all that. This is a pure piece of poetry.
Noel Harrison
Round
Like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending nor beginning
On an ever spinning reel
Like a snowball down a mountain
Or a carnival balloon
Like a carousel that's turning
Running rings around the moon
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping
Past the minutes of its face
And the world is like an apple
Whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind
Like a tunnel you can follow
To a tunnel of its own
Down a hollow to a cavern
Where the sun has never shone
Like a door that keeps revolving
In a half forgotten dream
Or the ripples from a pebble
Someone tosses in a stream
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping
Past the minutes of its face
And the world is like an apple
Whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind
Keys that jingle in your pocket
Words that jangle in your head
Why did Summer go so quickly
Was it something that you said?
Lovers walk along a shore
And leave their footprints in the sand
Was the sound of distant drumming
Just the fingers of your hand?
Pictures hanging in a hallway
Or the fragment of a song
Half remembered names and faces
But to whom do they belong?
When you knew that it was over
Were you suddenly aware
That the Autumn leaves were turning
To the colour of her hair
A circle in a spiral
A wheel within a wheel
Never ending nor beginning
On an ever-spinning reel
As the images unwind
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind