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 Posted: Tue Dec 20, 2005 10:38 am
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Posted: Fri Dec 30, 2005 6:12 pm
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My favorite poem: The Raven
----------------------------------------
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 will he 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, 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!
-------------------------------------------------
Gawd, how can you not like tha piece of work?!? blaugh
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Posted: Wed Jan 04, 2006 11:29 am
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Posted: Tue Feb 14, 2006 9:36 pm
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"Doesn't he look like himself?" they asked it,
Asked the question not of me, but the casket.
Look like himself? what self had they ever know?
The self who had trekked, or had swum, or flown?
To them this was a social occasion;
To me, a personal invasion.
My closest friend had left me all alone.
The truth lies deeper than mere flesh and bone.
Is he himself, this waxen effigy?
Can he train a bird dog, or plant a tree?
Be patient with each idiot relation?
Defend his ecology, or nation?
His epitaph is not in stone, but in me.
I'll be the self that he would have me be.
...............................................................
slam
slap
shatter
smash
squeal
brakes
skid
crash
pills
dope
try
fail
cut
caught
psych
jail
tear
shred
photos
burn
mementos
thats
how
life
goes
..............
here the driftwood lies piled, stormwrack.
shelved on this bare rock, this island.
islands are the bones of the earth.
stormwrack is tree's bones and land's dearth.
i hold mortality in hand
lying on the stone, on my back.
let wind and wave claim me as well.
my body be scoured and laid bare.
bones may be at peace, i can tell,
when cradled by stone, waves and air.
.......................................................
we like to choose the styles of clothes we wear
and all the music that we listen to;
we choose the length and color of our hair,
and games and other fun things that we do.
we try to choose what kind of foods we eat,
and movies that we like to go and see;
we claim the finest footwear for our feet
and even what profession we will be.
but we can never choose our truest friends.
the choice must lie with them, or life, or fate.
we are the chosen, not the chooser, then.
such choosing forms a bond that never ends.
no gift could be so grand, no joy so great.
i am so grateful i can call you "friend".
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Posted: Tue Mar 07, 2006 6:53 pm
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Posted: Fri Mar 31, 2006 3:07 pm
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Mine aren't very good, but still.... here?
As I sit here on this bed
I begin to wish that I were dead
You still aren't here
and your gone, I fear
As my wrists are bleeding I sit here needing
you to say one last time
that simple rhyme
those words we share
that say we care
I love you
I onl;y wish you knew it were true
I'm falling with these broken wings
I've done so many, many things
these emotions I feel...
I know they are real
as I pace
My bloddy tears stain my face
THis pain I feel
I know it's real
As the blood from my wrists drips to the floor
the puddle grows more and more
my love for you is true
just to prove, I'll die for you
So i'll say goodbye
you'll know its no lie
I only wish you could see
the tears in my eyes as I cry to be free
Warm tears hit my hand
I can't get up as I try to stand
whats happening?
Is somone singing...?
Wait,... I know this song
I open my eyes as I sing along
Your rhyme
right on time
as you sit by my side
I realize I hadn't died
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Poem Two
Curse against heaven, Curse against hell
My wings turned black as I fell
Straight to Earth from heaven
Just one of seven
You reached for my hand, but missed
It reminded me of our first kiss
As I fell, I cried
I felt as if my soul had died
As I slept I heard your call
You had also taken the fall
Not becasue you had lied or betrayed,
But because your love of me had stayed
I opened my eyes to see you there
Holding me in your arms with such care
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Start of poem three:
"... With a soul as black as the thunders rain
The deeds i've done to make this stain
You have never seen my tears
You don't even know my fears..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
heh, i'm not very good, but i still enjoy writing...
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Posted: Sat Jun 24, 2006 9:34 am
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Posted: Sun Aug 27, 2006 4:49 pm
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VanillaCreamCoveredOreo Vice Captain
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Posted: Sun Aug 27, 2006 6:30 pm
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Posted: Mon Aug 28, 2006 4:36 pm
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Posted: Sun Oct 08, 2006 10:53 pm
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I believe I read this was also for stories, correct? Uh, well, I kinda suck at it. I might have a 98.7 in Language Arts, but I don't really CARE! Well, here goes......LINE?!
"We gotta do somthing about him, Kim!" John yelled at his girlfriend.
"He's a zombie. What can we do?"
The two ran behind some more crates in the wharehouse, fearing the ever-growing zombie they used to call their best friend.
"Wait. How'd this happen again, John? Didn't we combine our deceased best FRIENDS to make this creature?" Kim asked
The now thiry foot mass of bones, rotting flesh, and blood moaned out in agony as the couple below each took a few hacks with their swords at the creaton's feet.
"Aaaaah, crap! I forgot his berserk mode." John remarked.
"Ooooh, boy. We might as well feed urselves to it now."
As the zombie's eyes turned darker and it's fangs grew bigger and bloodier, John couldn't help but let out one sentence.
"Meep... dear god were gonna die!"
"What about the crates? This is a weapon wearhouse, right? Let's look for a weapon!" Kim screamed over the moans of the zombie.
John jumped into a box and dug around the weapons," AK-47, keyblade, nuke. Bah, it's diffused. Sheepgun, Katana set, chaos emerald, guitar of Demona? What will that do?"
"Uh, John. I'd hate to interrupt your little search but... aaaack, help!" Kim screamed as the creature picked her up by her hair and swallowed her.
"Oh, fu. I'm dead!"
To be continued.
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