Canyons of Melbourne
Posted: Thu Dec 06, 2012 10:56 am
Canyons of Melbourne
Stephen Whiteside 06.12.2012
Where tall silver buildings reach up to the sky,
Where peregrine falcons career and fly,
With walls made of metal and glass, oh so high,
There are the canyons of Melbourne.
Where cars, trams and buses traverse the straight street,
And pedestrians pass on their pattering feet,
Where neatly clipped trees make the streetscape complete,
There are the canyons of Melbourne.
The Bolte Bridge offers a view from the west.
It's brutal. It's sterile. My eyes need a rest,
And yet I concede that we are all are quite blessed
By the towering canyons of Melbourne.
It's money. It's commerce. It makes the wheels turn.
Through the black night, still the office lights burn.
Shake me if ever I'm tempted to spurn
The life-giving canyons of Melbourne.
Out in the wilds there are canyons galore,
With trees at their summits, and creeks at their floor,
But they'll never feed me, and they hold no store
Compared to the canyons of Melbourne.
It's true, they provide a sweet balm for my soul;
They raise up my spirit, they make me feel whole,
But life, I know well, would be quite up the pole
Without those tough canyons of Melbourne.
The peregrine falcons, they bank and they wheel.
How to distinguish the dream from the real?
Before their great presence I humbly kneel,
And worship the canyons of Melbourne.
Stephen Whiteside 06.12.2012
Where tall silver buildings reach up to the sky,
Where peregrine falcons career and fly,
With walls made of metal and glass, oh so high,
There are the canyons of Melbourne.
Where cars, trams and buses traverse the straight street,
And pedestrians pass on their pattering feet,
Where neatly clipped trees make the streetscape complete,
There are the canyons of Melbourne.
The Bolte Bridge offers a view from the west.
It's brutal. It's sterile. My eyes need a rest,
And yet I concede that we are all are quite blessed
By the towering canyons of Melbourne.
It's money. It's commerce. It makes the wheels turn.
Through the black night, still the office lights burn.
Shake me if ever I'm tempted to spurn
The life-giving canyons of Melbourne.
Out in the wilds there are canyons galore,
With trees at their summits, and creeks at their floor,
But they'll never feed me, and they hold no store
Compared to the canyons of Melbourne.
It's true, they provide a sweet balm for my soul;
They raise up my spirit, they make me feel whole,
But life, I know well, would be quite up the pole
Without those tough canyons of Melbourne.
The peregrine falcons, they bank and they wheel.
How to distinguish the dream from the real?
Before their great presence I humbly kneel,
And worship the canyons of Melbourne.