
DETROIT TIGER FANS! A place for Detroit Tiger Fans to come together for a bit of fun |
Beginning on Nov. 5th, 2009, to view and enjoy ALL the features of this Website, (like the Tigers Team and Player Info) you will need to be a Registered Member and then log-in. The price can't be beat... it is Free!
We have recently encountered the following problem. The company who hosts this site lost most of our Avatars when they changed servers. We are suggesting that our members go into your Member Profile and click on the Avatar Tab. You will be able to add your own unique Member picture (avatar) in this area. Sorry for the loss, we just about all had to redo ours. Thanks, and enjoy the site.
|
| | |
| Author | Message |
|---|
Guest Guest
 | Subject: Re: Poetry Thread Sun Oct 21, 2007 1:35 pm | |
| That wasn't really that bad. Cheering for the LSU Tigers now Hit his first sac-fly this year with a RBI At his first chance to pitch this year, didn't do so great During the game I watched him pitch, I wore my Durbin shirt! |
|  | | tigersaint Detroit Tiger


 Number of posts: 8973 Age: 48 Location: Other, but I LIKE it here!! Favorite Current Tiger(s): All of 'em, except the BAD ones!! Reputation: 25 Registration date: 2007-10-06
 | Subject: Re: Poetry Thread Sun Oct 21, 2007 2:17 pm | |
| The TIGS in 08 will be great in 2009 they'll be fine In 2010 they'll just win it again for TIGER fans, this is our fate!! |
|  | | bobrob2004 DTF1 MODERATOR Detroit Tiger


 Number of posts: 10585 Age: 24 Location: Warren, MI Reputation: 12 Registration date: 2007-10-05
 | Subject: Re: Poetry Thread Wed Oct 24, 2007 9:35 am | |
| Oh, the Places Tulowitzki and Torrealba Won't Go!With apologies to Dr. Seuss...  Rox Sox Sox on Fox Rox on Fox Sox on Fox Rox vs. Sox on Fox Sox vs. Rox on Fox Sox vs. Rox in Coors Bandbox Sox have Jocks Rox have Jocks Jocks in Field or Batter's Box Jocks with Money Box of Stocks Papi strong as Wild Ox Fox ex-Jocks sit in Press Box Listen to Tim McCarver's Vox! The insanity he Talks and Squawks Joe Buck oughtta clean his Clocks Rox beat Sox Sox beat Rox No one claims the games are Locks And on some wood a Nation Knocks But if the Rox Outfox the Sox Or Gagne Walks or Beckett Balks It surely would cause Mocks and Shocks Requiring Whiskey on the Rocks ... and then, as Manny says, there will always be next year ... -- Mark Stebbins, 10.24.07 |
|  | | catbox_9 DTF1 ADMINISTRATOR Detroit Tiger


 Number of posts: 22167 Age: 22 Location: Paso Robles, California Favorite Current Tiger(s): Curtis Granderson Reputation: 17 Registration date: 2007-10-05
 | Subject: Re: Poetry Thread Wed Oct 24, 2007 11:16 am | |
| Try reading that out loud 3 times fast! _________________ Coming Soon: A better signature!
|
|  | | Guest Guest
 | Subject: Re: Poetry Thread Wed Oct 24, 2007 12:23 pm | |
| I don't know, but I am sure that would sound pretty goofy. |
|  | | catbox_9 DTF1 ADMINISTRATOR Detroit Tiger


 Number of posts: 22167 Age: 22 Location: Paso Robles, California Favorite Current Tiger(s): Curtis Granderson Reputation: 17 Registration date: 2007-10-05
 | Subject: Re: Poetry Thread Mon Oct 29, 2007 9:40 am | |
| The RavenOnce 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 visiter," 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 tried to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow sorrow for the lost Lenore For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name 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 visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door Some late visiter 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. Then into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon I heard again 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 an instant 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 sublunary being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door Bird or beast upon 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." Quoth the raven "Nevermore." Wondering 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 so when Hope he would adjure Stern Despair returned, instead of the sweet Hope he dared adjure That sad answer, "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 Angels whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee by these angels he hath sent thee Respite respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore; Let me 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 name Lenore Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore." Quoth the raven "Nevermore." "Be that word our sign in 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 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! -The End
_________________ Coming Soon: A better signature!
Last edited by on Thu Nov 01, 2007 6:49 pm; edited 1 time in total |
|  | | tigersaint Detroit Tiger


 Number of posts: 8973 Age: 48 Location: Other, but I LIKE it here!! Favorite Current Tiger(s): All of 'em, except the BAD ones!! Reputation: 25 Registration date: 2007-10-06
 | Subject: Re: Poetry Thread Thu Nov 01, 2007 5:35 pm | |
| There haven't been poems here lately it takes extra thought to do greatly just write them on here but first drink some beer but careful, you'll gain extra weightly |
|  | | tigersaint Detroit Tiger


 Number of posts: 8973 Age: 48 Location: Other, but I LIKE it here!! Favorite Current Tiger(s): All of 'em, except the BAD ones!! Reputation: 25 Registration date: 2007-10-06
 | Subject: Re: Poetry Thread Thu Nov 01, 2007 5:38 pm | |
| So Edgar is now on the team the cost was quite steep it would seem but we'll have a ball and if we win it all from head down to toe I will beam |
|  | | catbox_9 DTF1 ADMINISTRATOR Detroit Tiger


 Number of posts: 22167 Age: 22 Location: Paso Robles, California Favorite Current Tiger(s): Curtis Granderson Reputation: 17 Registration date: 2007-10-05
 | Subject: Re: Poetry Thread Thu Nov 01, 2007 6:50 pm | |
| | catbox_9 wrote: | 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 visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door Only this, and nothing more." POEM CONTINUES:
| Spoiler: | | |
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 tried to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow sorrow for the lost Lenore For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name 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 visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door Some late visiter 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.
Then into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon I heard again 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 an instant 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 sublunary being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door Bird or beast upon 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." Quoth the raven "Nevermore."
Wondering 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 so when Hope he would adjure Stern Despair returned, instead of the sweet Hope he dared adjure That sad answer, "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 Angels whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee by these angels he hath sent thee Respite respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore; Let me 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 name Lenore Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore." Quoth the raven "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign in 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 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! |
-The End
|
Wow! What a poem! Did you write that? _________________ Coming Soon: A better signature!
|
|  | | catbox_9 DTF1 ADMINISTRATOR Detroit Tiger


 Number of posts: 22167 Age: 22 Location: Paso Robles, California Favorite Current Tiger(s): Curtis Granderson Reputation: 17 Registration date: 2007-10-05
 | Subject: Re: Poetry Thread Thu Nov 01, 2007 6:51 pm | |
| | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | 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 visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door Only this, and nothing more."
POEM CONTINUES:
| Spoiler: | | |
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 tried to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow sorrow for the lost Lenore For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name 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 visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door Some late visiter 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.
Then into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon I heard again 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 an instant 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 sublunary being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door Bird or beast upon 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." Quoth the raven "Nevermore."
Wondering 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 so when Hope he would adjure Stern Despair returned, instead of the sweet Hope he dared adjure That sad answer, "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 Angels whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee by these angels he hath sent thee Respite respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore; Let me 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 name Lenore Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore." Quoth the raven "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign in 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 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! |
-The End
|
Wow! What a poem! Did you write that? |
I wish! Edgar Allen Poe did! _________________ Coming Soon: A better signature!
|
|  | | catbox_9 DTF1 ADMINISTRATOR Detroit Tiger


 Number of posts: 22167 Age: 22 Location: Paso Robles, California Favorite Current Tiger(s): Curtis Granderson Reputation: 17 Registration date: 2007-10-05
 | Subject: Re: Poetry Thread Thu Nov 01, 2007 6:51 pm | |
| | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | 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 visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door Only this, and nothing more."
POEM CONTINUES:
| Spoiler: | | |
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 tried to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow sorrow for the lost Lenore For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name 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 visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door Some late visiter 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.
Then into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon I heard again 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 an instant 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 sublunary being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door Bird or beast upon 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." Quoth the raven "Nevermore."
Wondering 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 so when Hope he would adjure Stern Despair returned, instead of the sweet Hope he dared adjure That sad answer, "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 Angels whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee by these angels he hath sent thee Respite respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore; Let me 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 name Lenore Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore." Quoth the raven "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign in 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 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! |
-The End
|
Wow! What a poem! Did you write that? |
I wish! Edgar Allen Poe did! |
Oh, okay! _________________ Coming Soon: A better signature!
|
|  | | catbox_9 DTF1 ADMINISTRATOR Detroit Tiger


 Number of posts: 22167 Age: 22 Location: Paso Robles, California Favorite Current Tiger(s): Curtis Granderson Reputation: 17 Registration date: 2007-10-05
 | Subject: Re: Poetry Thread Thu Nov 01, 2007 6:52 pm | |
| | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | 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 visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door Only this, and nothing more."
POEM CONTINUES:
| Spoiler: | | |
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 tried to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow sorrow for the lost Lenore For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name 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 visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door Some late visiter 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.
Then into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon I heard again 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 an instant 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 sublunary being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door Bird or beast upon 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." Quoth the raven "Nevermore."
Wondering 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 so when Hope he would adjure Stern Despair returned, instead of the sweet Hope he dared adjure That sad answer, "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 Angels whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee by these angels he hath sent thee Respite respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore; Let me 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 name Lenore Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore." Quoth the raven "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign in 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 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! |
-The End
|
Wow! What a poem! Did you write that? |
I wish! Edgar Allen Poe did! |
Oh, okay! |
Still a good poem though! _________________ Coming Soon: A better signature!
|
|  | | catbox_9 DTF1 ADMINISTRATOR Detroit Tiger


 Number of posts: 22167 Age: 22 Location: Paso Robles, California Favorite Current Tiger(s): Curtis Granderson Reputation: 17 Registration date: 2007-10-05
 | Subject: Re: Poetry Thread Thu Nov 01, 2007 6:52 pm | |
| | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | 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 visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door Only this, and nothing more."
POEM CONTINUES:
| Spoiler: | | |
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 tried to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow sorrow for the lost Lenore For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name 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 visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door Some late visiter 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.
Then into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon I heard again 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 an instant 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 sublunary being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door Bird or beast upon 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." Quoth the raven "Nevermore."
Wondering 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 so when Hope he would adjure Stern Despair returned, instead of the sweet Hope he dared adjure That sad answer, "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 Angels whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee by these angels he hath sent thee Respite respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore; Let me 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 name Lenore Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore." Quoth the raven "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign in 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 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! |
-The End
|
Wow! What a poem! Did you write that? |
I wish! Edgar Allen Poe did! |
Oh, okay! |
Still a good poem though! |
Yeah it is! Why am I having a conversation with myself? _________________ Coming Soon: A better signature!
|
|  | | catbox_9 DTF1 ADMINISTRATOR Detroit Tiger


 Number of posts: 22167 Age: 22 Location: Paso Robles, California Favorite Current Tiger(s): Curtis Granderson Reputation: 17 Registration date: 2007-10-05
 | Subject: Re: Poetry Thread Thu Nov 01, 2007 6:52 pm | |
| | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | 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 visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door Only this, and nothing more."
POEM CONTINUES:
| Spoiler: | | |
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 tried to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow sorrow for the lost Lenore For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name 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 visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door Some late visiter 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.
Then into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon I heard again 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 an instant 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 sublunary being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door Bird or beast upon 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." Quoth the raven "Nevermore."
Wondering 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 so when Hope he would adjure Stern Despair returned, instead of the sweet Hope he dared adjure That sad answer, "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 Angels whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee by these angels he hath sent thee Respite respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore; Let me 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 name Lenore Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore." Quoth the raven "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign in 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 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! |
-The End
|
Wow! What a poem! Did you write that? |
I wish! Edgar Allen Poe did! |
Oh, okay! |
Still a good poem though! |
Yeah it is! Why am I having a conversation with myself? |
Maybe you're crazy? _________________ Coming Soon: A better signature!
|
|  | | catbox_9 DTF1 ADMINISTRATOR Detroit Tiger


 Number of posts: 22167 Age: 22 Location: Paso Robles, California Favorite Current Tiger(s): Curtis Granderson Reputation: 17 Registration date: 2007-10-05
 | Subject: Re: Poetry Thread Thu Nov 01, 2007 6:53 pm | |
| | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | 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 visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door Only this, and nothing more."
POEM CONTINUES:
| Spoiler: | | |
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 tried to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow sorrow for the lost Lenore For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name 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 visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door Some late visiter 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.
Then into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon I heard again 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 an instant 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 sublunary being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door Bird or beast upon 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." Quoth the raven "Nevermore."
Wondering 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 so when Hope he would adjure Stern Despair returned, instead of the sweet Hope he dared adjure That sad answer, "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 Angels whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee by these angels he hath sent thee Respite respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore; Let me 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 name Lenore Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore." Quoth the raven "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign in 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 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! |
-The End
|
Wow! What a poem! Did you write that? |
I wish! Edgar Allen Poe did! |
Oh, okay! |
Still a good poem though! |
Yeah it is! Why am I having a conversation with myself? |
Maybe you're crazy? |
Yeah, probably! _________________ Coming Soon: A better signature!
|
|  | | mrsrabelo Erie SeaWolf


 Number of posts: 2283 Age: 18 Favorite Current Tiger(s): Jeff Larish | Fish: Mike Rabelo | Rockie: Jason Grilli | Bullpen catcher: Scott Pickens Reputation: 0 Registration date: 2007-10-05
 | Subject: Re: Poetry Thread Fri Nov 02, 2007 9:18 am | |
|  Why were you talking to yourself? |
|  | | catbox_9 DTF1 ADMINISTRATOR Detroit Tiger


 Number of posts: 22167 Age: 22 Location: Paso Robles, California Favorite Current Tiger(s): Curtis Granderson Reputation: 17 Registration date: 2007-10-05
 | |  | | mrsrabelo Erie SeaWolf


 Number of posts: 2283 Age: 18 Favorite Current Tiger(s): Jeff Larish | Fish: Mike Rabelo | Rockie: Jason Grilli | Bullpen catcher: Scott Pickens Reputation: 0 Registration date: 2007-10-05
 | |  | | tigersaint Detroit Tiger


 Number of posts: 8973 Age: 48 Location: Other, but I LIKE it here!! Favorite Current Tiger(s): All of 'em, except the BAD ones!! Reputation: 25 Registration date: 2007-10-06
 | Subject: Re: Poetry Thread Fri Nov 02, 2007 7:54 pm | |
| | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | 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 visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door Only this, and nothing more."
POEM CONTINUES:
| Spoiler: | | |
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 tried to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow sorrow for the lost Lenore For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name 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 visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door Some late visiter 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.
Then into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon I heard again 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 an instant 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 sublunary being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door Bird or beast upon 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." Quoth the raven "Nevermore."
Wondering 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 so when Hope he would adjure Stern Despair returned, instead of the sweet Hope he dared adjure That sad answer, "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 Angels whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee by these angels he hath sent thee Respite respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore; Let me 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 name Lenore Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore." Quoth the raven "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign in 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 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! |
-The End
|
Wow! What a poem! Did you write that? |
I wish! Edgar Allen Poe did! |
Oh, okay! |
Still a good poem though! |
Yeah it is! Why am I having a conversation with myself? |
Maybe you're crazy? |
Yeah, probably! |
SHUT UP!! BOTH OF YOU!! |
|  | | tigersaint Detroit Tiger


 Number of posts: 8973 Age: 48 Location: Other, but I LIKE it here!! Favorite Current Tiger(s): All of 'em, except the BAD ones!! Reputation: 25 Registration date: 2007-10-06
 | Subject: Re: Poetry Thread Fri Nov 02, 2007 7:58 pm | |
| catbox did talk to himself Zumaya is now on the shelf cat quoted the Raven Zoom was misbehavin' the cookies were made by an Elf |
|  | | catbox_9 DTF1 ADMINISTRATOR Detroit Tiger


 Number of posts: 22167 Age: 22 Location: Paso Robles, California Favorite Current Tiger(s): Curtis Granderson Reputation: 17 Registration date: 2007-10-05
 | Subject: Re: Poetry Thread Fri Nov 02, 2007 8:23 pm | |
| | tigersaint wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | | catbox_9 wrote: | 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 visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door Only this, and nothing more."
POEM CONTINUES:
| Spoiler: | | |
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 tried to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow sorrow for the lost Lenore For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name 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 visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door Some late visiter 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.
Then into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon I heard again 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 an instant 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 sublunary being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door Bird or beast upon 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." Quoth the raven "Nevermore."
Wondering 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 so when Hope he would adjure Stern Despair returned, instead of the sweet Hope he dared adjure That sad answer, "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 Angels whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee by these angels he hath sent thee Respite respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore; Let me 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 name Lenore Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore." Quoth the raven "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign in 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 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! |
-The End
|
Wow! What a poem! Did you write that? |
I wish! Edgar Allen Poe did! |
Oh, okay! |
Still a good poem though! |
Yeah it is! Why am I having a conversation with myself? |
Maybe you're crazy? |
Yeah, probably! |
SHUT UP!! BOTH OF YOU!! |
LOL! _________________ Coming Soon: A better signature!
|
|  | | bobrob2004 DTF1 MODERATOR Detroit Tiger


 Number of posts: 10585 Age: 24 Location: Warren, MI Reputation: 12 Registration date: 2007-10-05
 | Subject: Re: Poetry Thread Sat Nov 03, 2007 4:45 am | |
| I was going to write a poem/song about the Zumaya injury to the tune of 3 Dog Night's Shambala, but I'm too lazy to do it. Maybe later... |
|  | | tigersaint Detroit Tiger


 Number of posts: 8973 Age: 48 Location: Other, but I LIKE it here!! Favorite Current Tiger(s): All of 'em, except the BAD ones!! Reputation: 25 Registration date: 2007-10-06
 | Subject: Re: Poetry Thread Mon Nov 05, 2007 7:48 pm | |
| |
|  | | catbox_9 DTF1 ADMINISTRATOR Detroit Tiger


 Number of posts: 22167 Age: 22 Location: Paso Robles, California Favorite Current Tiger(s): Curtis Granderson Reputation: 17 Registration date: 2007-10-05
 | Subject: Re: Poetry Thread Mon Nov 05, 2007 7:52 pm | |
| | tigersaint wrote: | | Well.....its later!! |
LOL! _________________ Coming Soon: A better signature!
|
|  | | bobrob2004 DTF1 MODERATOR Detroit Tiger


 Number of posts: 10585 Age: 24 Location: Warren, MI Reputation: 12 Registration date: 2007-10-05
 | Subject: Re: Poetry Thread Tue Nov 06, 2007 6:36 am | |
| | tigersaint wrote: | | Well.....its later!! |
Oh, I forgot to do this! Maybe even later... |
|  | | tigersaint Detroit Tiger


 Number of posts: 8973 Age: 48 Location: Other, but I LIKE it here!! Favorite Current Tiger(s): All of 'em, except the BAD ones!! Reputation: 25 Registration date: 2007-10-06
 | Subject: Re: Poetry Thread Tue Nov 06, 2007 1:33 pm | |
| Now it's even later....... |
|  | | tigersaint Detroit Tiger


 Number of posts: 8973 Age: 48 Location: Other, but I LIKE it here!! Favorite Current Tiger(s): All of 'em, except the BAD ones!! Reputation: 25 Registration date: 2007-10-06
 | Subject: Re: Poetry Thread Tue Nov 06, 2007 1:33 pm | |
| | bobrob2004 wrote: | | I was going to write a poem/song about the Zumaya injury to the tune of 3 Dog Night's Shambala, but I'm too lazy to do it. Maybe later... |
You HAVE heard Rockapella's version of the song, haan't you? |
|  | | bobrob2004 DTF1 MODERATOR Detroit Tiger


 Number of posts: 10585 Age: 24 Location: Warren, MI Reputation: 12 Registration date: 2007-10-05
 | Subject: Re: Poetry Thread Tue Nov 06, 2007 4:28 pm | |
| | tigersaint wrote: | | bobrob2004 wrote: | | I was going to write a poem/song about the Zumaya injury to the tune of 3 Dog Night's Shambala, but I'm too lazy to do it. Maybe later... |
You HAVE heard Rockapella's version of the song, haan't you? |
Of course! But if I had put Rockapella most of the people here wouldn't know what I was talking about. Actually, there's two recordings of Rockapella, one slower version with Sean and another version with Kevin and John with cut ins of Sean and Barry (the only recording with 7 'pellas!). I like the Smilin' version better. |
|  | | bobrob2004 DTF1 MODERATOR Detroit Tiger


 Number of posts: 10585 Age: 24 Location: Warren, MI Reputation: 12 Registration date: 2007-10-05
 | Subject: Re: Poetry Thread Tue Nov 06, 2007 4:29 pm | |
| | tigersaint wrote: | | Now it's even later....... |
Not according to my watch! |
|  | | tigersaint Detroit Tiger


 Number of posts: 8973 Age: 48 Location: Other, but I LIKE it here!! Favorite Current Tiger(s): All of 'em, except the BAD ones!! Reputation: 25 Registration date: 2007-10-06
 | Subject: Re: Poetry Thread Wed Nov 07, 2007 5:55 pm | |
| ....or the site clock!! Smilin' is a good CD....but please explain to me why the song SMILIN' was NOT included?? |
|  | | |
| Page 2 of 7 | Goto page : 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7  |
| | Permissions of this forum: | You cannot reply to topics in this forum
| |
| |
| |
|