The Dark Tower – A Slideshow Tribute

Stikkord

det mørke tårn, film, Stephen King, the dark tower, you tube

~ by Geeoh19

Jeg ønsker deg en gledelig og velsignet julaften!

Stikkord

deilig er jorden, grimm og gru, julaften, o come alle ye faithful, o helga natt, tre nøtter til askepott

Endelig er det julaften, kanskje den dagen som er aller mest fylt av tradisjoner av alle dager i hele året. Avhengig av om vi skal være vertskap eller gjester er dagen travel eller avslappende. Vi er vertskap for hele min familie annet hvert år og gjester hos Vidars foreldre annet hvert år. Dette året skal vi til Vidars familie. Noe som betyr at dette året er det juleferie!

Jeg gleder meg til Tre nøtter til Askepott, som jeg gjør hvert år. Det er ikke skikkelig jul uten. Jeg vil også gjerne ha med meg forestillingen Grimm og Gru i løpet av juledagene. Til og med Disneys julefavoritter liker jeg å se på. Og så er det julemusikken. Der har jeg absolutt favoritter. Jeg skrev om noen av dem i desember i fjor, men har lyst til å ta med noen flere.

Hvem jeg synes er finest forandrer seg ofte fra år til år, selv om de tre jeg skrev om i fjor er favoritter dette året også. Jeg har i tillegg fått meg Spotify og kan høre på andres julelister. Der finner jeg også nydelige julesanger. Jeg har valgt ut noen få jeg gjerne vil dele med deg:

Christmas Fulfillment

This Christmas,
may you have the fulfillment
of seeing around you
the people you love the most.
May you have the satisfaction
of giving the best gift,
special memories that will last forever.
This Christmas,
may you feel peaceful and contented,
knowing what Christmas means to you
and celebrating it your way.
By Joanna Fuchs

Jeg håper du har en nydelig dag! Stor juleklem!

The Raven

Stikkord

Dikt, Edgar Allan Poe, music, musikk, poem, poetry, Raven, you tube

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`’Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.’

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; – vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow – sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me – filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,’

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,’ said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you’ – here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!’
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!’
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,’ said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
‘Tis the wind and nothing more!’

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,’ I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning – little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.’

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered – not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.’
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.’

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,’ said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of “Never-nevermore.”‘

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.’

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,’ I cried, `thy God hath lent thee – by these angels he has sent thee
Respite – respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

`Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted – tell me truly, I implore -
Is there – is there balm in Gilead? – tell me – tell me, I implore!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

`Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us – by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!’ I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! – quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted – nevermore!

~ Edgar Allan Poe

Boktema – Boken som ville blitt den perfekte film/tv-serie

Stikkord

Boktema, film, Neil Gaiman, the sandman

Det er torsdag og et nytt boktema hos Anettes bokboble. Denne gangen vil Anette gjerne høre om boken som ville blitt den perfekte film/tv-serie. Jeg er helt enig med flere som skriver om dette temaet;Mørk engel av Laini Taylor vil jeg gjerne se som film. Jeg ville også gjerne sagt Det mørke tårn av Stephen King, men den er de allerede i gang med å lage film om. Så da velger jeg en annen bok, eller rettere sagt en serie som jeg virkelig godt kunne tenke meg å se som film:

The Sandman av Neil Gaiman. Dette er en serie på 10 tegneseriebøker skrevet av Neil Gaiman. De handler om Dream, som er herre over drømmeriket, og søsknene hans Destiny, Death, Destruction, Despair, Desire and Delirium. Det var gjennom denne tegneserien jeg ble kjent med Neil Gaiman og jeg ønsker å kunne lese bøkene om igjen og om igjen! Tegneseriene er samlet i bokform, og bøkene er (i rekkefølge):

1. Preludes & Nocturnes
2. The Doll’s House
3. Dream Country
4. Season of Mists
5. A Game of You
6. Fables and Reflections
7. Brief Lives
8. Worlds’ End
9. The Kindly Ones
10. The Wake

Jeg tror mye av min kjærlighet til tegneserier startet her. The Sandman serien er noe av det vakreste jeg vet. Med fantastiske tegninger og poetisk tekst. Og ikke minst, en spennende historie. Hele serien er samlet i 10 hefter som står øverst på bøker jeg ønsker meg. Jeg tror også at historiene er så visuelle at de ville passet perfekt som levende bilder.

How do I love thee?

Stikkord

Dikt, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, film, music, musikk, poem, poetry, sonnet 43, Sonnets from the Portuguese, you tube

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, — I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! — and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Fine reklamesanger

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Agnes Obel, Amy McDonald, Åsa Lill, Nicole Kidman, reklame, Robbie Williams, you tube

Noen ganger treffer reklamene med musikken de bruker. Hafslund og Dr. Greve er begge gode eksempler på det. Her finner du musikken i dem pluss musikken i en reklame for Freia og en for Møteplassen.

Amy McDonald med sangen This is the life som ble brukt i en reklame for Hafslund.

Åsa Lill med sangen Perfect girl som ble brukt i en reklame for Dr.Greve

Robbie Williams og Nicole Kidman med sangen Something Stupid som ble brukt i en reklame for Møteplassen.

Agnes Obel med sangen Just So som ble brukt i en reklame for Freia.

Kinetic Typography

Stikkord

music, musikk, poem, poetry, portal, Sthephen Fry, you tube