Illustrious Scribbles

Teenage-ness

2007-09-19T19:42:00.000-07:00

So ever since I was in second grade and we read a book called Gigi, by Elizabeth Foster, I've been determined not to let myself make a stereotypical change from child to adult. On many accounts, I've succeeded.

One stereotype for teenagers is that they're dramatic and can't get along with their parents. Even back then, I had begun to realize that this isn't just a result of rampaging teenage hormones. True, I'm more easily annoyed that I used to be. This is mostly because of the realization that everyone has flaws; it's quite upsetting. Most likely, people go through this phase and then overcome it, however, as someone experiencing it, I think I prefer to have higher standards for the people around me.

This may sound arrogant, but I hold myself to the same standards as everyone else. I'm not denying that some of my frustration is irrational, because about 40% of it is. And if I think it's 40%, it's probably at least 50%. Rather, I'm arguing that my frustrations are valid, even if I am a teenager.

One major difference in parent-child interaction at this age is that the child is no longer dependent on the parent. In some cases, the child wants separation, and in others, the parents give it. As children, many of us are coddled. This has to stop at some point if the child hopes to be successful on his/her own, but there is not always a gradual shift from dependent to independent. Instead, at least in my case, there seems to be an abrupt change.

Parents eventually stop playing games and overseeing everything involving you. In my case, the problem is that they also withdraw emotionally. When I'm upset, they don't bother asking why... or they accept a clearly false 'fine' and drop it. I don't know what goes on in their minds, but it appears as if they assume I'm upset over something petty. This, of course, does not happen 100% of the time, but it happens enough that it's uncomfortable.

For example, I got upset when my little sister got shotgun today. I wasn't just upset because of something as trivial as a seat. I had a much deeper, more extensive complaint, and this just pushed it a little to far. When I got home, my dad stated that my sister "got shotgun" so I was "pissed." In that brief sentence, he made it seem like I was being petty.

I don't expect them to read my mind, because that's unrealistic. It wouldn't have hurt him to ask why I was so angry. What is it about getting older that makes people think you stop needing to explain your emotions?

Yes. Sometimes, you have to assert them if you want anything to change. But as the child, who's always been catered to by the parents, it seems illogical to have to ask them to ask me what's wrong, when they've always been quick to do so in the past. It's perfectly understandable that they have to stop catering, but that doesn't mean they should withdraw completely.

At what point do we stop communicating? When does the parent make "How was your day?" the opening for at least 50% of conversations with their child? When does the child feel so overwhelmed by these changes in dependence that he/she gets angry at random injustices, or chooses to lash out at anything by causing his/herself undue stress?

It's a difficult transition. As of yet, I'm not willing to give up on any of my expectations for anyone because I vowed not to become an adult who gave up the ability to look at things with the same perception I had as a child. Even though some there are some changes I cannot control, I still remember being determined to remember all of the magic and goodness I saw back then. Though I dislike it, I assume the three of us work out our differences and compromise.

In the interval, however, we suffer.

Both the parents and the child are responsible for this tension, and it's unfair to simply blame the child. Yeah, yeah, life's unfair. But is that any reason to overlook injustice when we see it?

Stuff

2007-02-20T18:05:00.000-08:00

Alright. it's definitely been a while since I've done this... and wow, I can type a lot faster than I used to.

So far this year things have been going as usual... except there's a new definition of usual. Some things are the same, such as getting up, going to school, coming home, doing homework, and sleeping. I'm more or less socially clueless, so I don't get out much, although I like to think that I've improved somewhat this year.

I joined mock trial this year. That right there is the biggest difference. It's over now, which is a shame, because it's so much fun!! I was the defendant this year, because I didn't have the confidence to play lawyer. I won the "best witness" award our teacher/coach made, which was great.

We were a first year team, and we won two out of the four preliminary matches. How great is that!? Unfortunately, we didn't go onto finals, but we'll just have to get them next year. It doesn't even matter, because when I was up there on the witness stand, and I flustered the lawyer so much that he stopped and complimented me, that was all of the victory I needed.

Even after the season is long over, that remains my sole source of satisfaction. I gained confidence, and a certain level of comfort among my peers, that I didn't have before.

I also took the PSAT this year. I got a 197 out of 240, which is great! But then I took the Princeton Review Assessment, and I did very badly. Kind of disheartening, but also a bit of a wake up call for me.

I've been getting a bunch of college mail, which is fun, but sort of stressful. I even got an e-mail from a college I want to go to. But after the PRA, it feels like I might not perform as well as they seem to expect me to.

From what I've perceived, this is the year where we're all supposed to start thinking about our futures. Whoop-ee. But I'll act like a good little girl and start thinking about it.

In reality though, I've been thinking less about college and more about what I want out of life...I think.

I'm at that point where the question of what I want to acquire, to earn, is the most important thing. There are plenty of things I want, because really, that's the case for everyone. But if you look at it by asking yourself "what are the memories that I value the most?", then I think it becomes clear.

Most of my most precious moments involve being completely comfortable and having fun with other people. (That is, with the exception of a moment when I knew something that none of my English teacher's other classes did...)

So that implies that the thing I want most in life is to have friends that I can have lots of those moments with. So hopefully, if I have that, all else will follow.

Reading

2006-08-20T09:51:00.000-07:00

It never ceases to amaze me when I read something really good. When something is written really well, no matter what it is, it seems like "I can relate to this". When you read something (book, poem, story, etc) and afterwards, you just sit there and think about what you just read, or when you try to put what you feel about it into words, and can't; that feeling is also nameless. I find that one of the most challenging things to do at various online writing sites is to tell someone who wrote something like that just how you feel about it. It's really not an easy task.

But also, it's the feeling you get when you sit in one spot for hours and just read. Not necessarily because you can't stop reading, but for any reason. I decided a few days ago that I would finish the Mayor Of Casterbridge which I had to read for school. I had, oh, half the book left. I sat for hours and just worked on that one goal of finishing it. And I have to say, I enjoyed the book more than I had been before.

It's not so much that the book is bad, because it's not. But many of the references and expressions made aren't common knowledge like they used to be.

The feeling of reading a lot in a short time rather than over a longer time span is such that, you perceive the way time passes for the story differently. While I was in New York this summer, I read a book, Phantom, that was 900 or so pages. And I read it as unceasingly as I could (Does that make sense?), so I finished it in 2 days.

The first half of the book took place over the course of only a few days. But if I'd read it in bits and pieces, the feelings that I took away from the book would have been different because of it.

I've always found that interesting.

Going back to my original point, there's nothing quite like reading a really good piece of writing. A lot of the things I've read have been by kids around my age too. Maybe it's because I relate to them better, but I don't think so.

The idea that something that comes out of one person's mind can impress another that much is what makes writing so interesting. Mainly, to think that it's possible for one person to write something like that and affect another.

Well anyway, I have no idea where that came from.....

Template Change

2006-08-13T13:27:00.000-07:00

I'm going to be changing the template around for a while.

I like this one. It took me forever to decide what I wanted to do with the animation on that header...

One of the most annoying things ever!

2006-07-30T16:46:00.000-07:00

People's grammar today is atrocious! Worst of all is the word anyway. Anyways is not a word! GAH! I wish people would get that! There is little that annoys me more than that non-existant word! Grr...

Well, I just wanted to get that out of my system...

Brainstorm program @ traevoli.com

2006-07-28T21:39:00.000-07:00

"Jealousy destroys itself and the object of its love. In the 80s, a flower, undead, leads us through a western in Greece of unbelievable proportions. During this tale the audience is witness to defeat and gets a knowing feeling.
The basic plot: Changing in ways that cannot be explained.

Kudos for incorporating a polyhedron, toasters, use of the phrase "aww, he didn't use my quote", butterflies, or a forbidden closet of mystery."

I think I might use this one for NaNoWriMo in November, but I have to go through some more first...

A quote: A note

2006-07-11T18:38:00.000-07:00

Make-up is a synonym for lie

I read this quote just now, and thought it noteworthy.

quote by Cat: http://www.blogger.com/profile/28344791

or Your Messiah: http://allpoetry.com/poets/your%20messiah

T-O-O-T

2006-07-05T22:31:00.000-07:00

I've started a fascinating experiment. take a look

And of course, as soon as I posted that, I came up with these improvements

2006-06-24T15:14:00.000-07:00

With all the strength of writers arms
on which we can rely
we write of innocent smiles
and we hope these feelings stay behind

We alone can witness life
as we record both vice and charms
we build a piece that is enduring
with all the strength of writer's arms

All we know is what we feel
and all we hope to do is try
to understand the heart of words
on which we can rely

We are the activists of this world
we will go five extra miles
we are the observers
we write of innocent smiles

We are somedays dreamers
so there is always good in bad to find
for us there is always hope
and we hope these feelings stay behind

With all the strength of writers arms
on which we can rely
we write of innocent smiles
and we hope these feelings stay behind

Sharepoetry.com

2006-06-24T14:57:00.000-07:00

The above mentioned website has a program called freewrite. You basically write anything nonstop for at least 3 minutes based on the topic. I ended up with this.

Charming...

That's all there is to it

A mockery...

Of the way we go through it

Life...

In which we exist

Consciousness...

The will to resist

Charming...

A handsome prince

A mockery...

Of all of them since

Life...

Loving and losing

Consciousness...

The awareness of choosing

Charming is appealing
And charming is gross
Charming says it all
And all says the most

In addition to that, I used this style called Laurenova . My only problem with the following poem (titled We) is that the first and last stanzas don't really fit together, though the middle ones work. I'm going to try to rework that.

With the strength of writers arms
on which we can rely
we write of innocent smiles
and we hope these feelings stay

We alone can witness life
as we record both vice and charms
we build a piece that is enduring
with the strength of writer's arms

All we know is what we feel
and all we hope to do is try
to understand the heart of words
on which we can rely

We are the activists of this world
we will go five extra miles
we are the observers
we write of innocent smiles

We are somedays dreamers
so let come what may
for us there is always hope
and we hope these feelings stay

With the strength of writers arms
on which we can rely
we write of innocent smiles
and we hope these feelings stay

I just had to put this up

2006-06-24T14:55:00.000-07:00

http://allpoetry.com/Poem/2084329

memory

2006-06-20T14:27:00.000-07:00

I just thought of another reason I really love Loveless. Ritsuka (since he lost his memory) is very concerned with 'making memories', mainly taking lots of pictures. One of the most precious things in the world to memories. I love to remember and I hold onto everything for memory's sake. Last summer was full of memories, and I'd say it was one of my greatest summers yet!

That aspect of loveless really stuck out for me, especially because as the story progressed and he began to like people again, he took less pictures because he was enjoying himself and didn't really think about it anymore.

My latest Obsession...

2006-06-19T18:09:00.000-07:00

O.0 I just saw the coolest anime ever! It's a 12 episode series called Loveless, I've seen some good reviews, but when I actually tried to find it, the best I found was here.

This pic is the typical one used in reviews, so I'm guessing it's on the dvd cover. (Soubi left and Ritsuka right) One of the coolest things about loveless is that humans have kitty ears! (apparently they lose them with their virginity) The basic idea is that Ritsuka lost his memory, and the only one there for him was his brother Seimei. Then his brother is murdered, and he leaves him Soubi with orders to protect Ritsuka. Soubi is your typical masochistic/pedophile type... but he's really cool.

The fight scenes are so cool. It takes place in a sort of inter-dimentional zone type thing, and they call them spell battles. Basically, they manipulate words to make things happen. The word manipulation involved in that is very interesting. It's sort of a mixture of comedy, angst, mystery, and action. The only bad part is that it leaves you mad for more answers.

The last episode for instance, consists of Ritsuka having this weird incense-induced dream/vision where all of his friends are killed by Soubi on Seimei's orders. (soubi's earless by the way) It basically ends with him fighting pre-destination and saying he'll create his own. It really is a beautiful and touching story, and it's the kind of show where you experience the frustration along with the main character.

I loved everything about this anime, and I'm greatly hoping they make a second season. It is also a manga (graphic novel). But really, loveless is one of the most touching anime's I've seen yet. (Other favorites including YuYu Hakusho, FullMetal Alchemist, Chobits, works of Miazaki, which include Princess Mononoke and Howl's Moving Castle, and hundreds more.

What I found to be one of the greatest things about this was the music. Both the opening and closing were FABULOUS! The opening song: Tsuki no curse is a really cool song. The lyrical translation comes out as follows:

Evil curse of the moon
Come to me from inside a frozen dream

In this world of nothing but empty words
Our love begin to fall apart
But I still I hope someday it will reach your heart
Even if the wounds in your arms run deep
And you hold me tight, so I won't fall
I want to feel these lips of mine melt that strong wish away

Ah, I wonder if even in the past
Beauty and love were made to last
Let's keep walking to a new tomorrow
And a prettier night

Evil curse of the moon
Come to me from inside a frozen dream
Take me far, far away
To a place I've never seen
I don't care where we will go
If we can believe in love
We'll never be alone

While that song is cool, the ending song "Michiyuki" is absolutely AMAZING! It's beautiful! The lyrics translate as follows:

Even if we try
To embrace until
Our souls fill with pain
Still we will not be
Able to become
Only one, again

If, together, we strive
To get close, in the dark
Even kindness begins
To turn into pain
So please deepen our bonds and
Make this sorrow end

From today on, we won't even dare to dream
Holding onto each other filled with despair
And together we'll walk until we reach
The next cruel dawn
I am sure that the words that we want to say
Must be tangible in this world, somewhere
Hiding underneath the shadows of our love
In our silent nights
I'm sure, even now.

The songs are actually sung in Japanese though. The end theme "Michiyuki" has been recorded and uploaded here at youtube.com.
The OP "Tsuki no Curse" can be found here at Youtube as well. They are both great!

Numb

2006-06-18T21:42:00.000-07:00

I'm so going to write a poem about this.... I was reading a poem on allpoetry, and I was just inspired as I commented on it. The poem was called "I hate you and all that you stand for"... here it is

"Hey Alex, how's it goin?"
"I hate you and all that you stand for."

"I hate you and all that you stand for"?!
Sorry, it's hard to be civil today.
When I can't seem to find the razor
And all scissors I own ran away

And I can't find a knife underneath all that rust
And the sewing tin's dryer than dirt
The bathtub is full but the toaster ain't here
I have nothing here that will hurt

I decided to go to Home Depot
I've been hankering for pruning shears
Or a neon orange extension cord
That'll wipe away horrible tears

Tie at the top, off of the chandelier
A noose on the neck's as sweet as can be
The HIM is blaring, the candles are lit
Combined with my sighs, it's a sweet symphony

As the tears roll down, one last look
At the world I've grown to despise
The wall mirror shows the ladder and me
And my cold and cloudy brown eyes

As my last words, I whisper to myself, and the world,
"I hate you and all that you stand for."
I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and jump
To deal with the world no more.

And my comment ended up as something like this....

For some reason, the style you wrote this in seems very modern. I liked it, and yet at the same time, it was very distant. I don't know why, but I just couldn't sense that much feeling, even though, judging by the words, it seems like I should've felt something. It's sad in a way, but it seems that, more and more, the world is becoming more like that, "I hate you and all that you stand for" I mean. Even though people act normal, we're all ignoring what's really going on, and those of us who aren't just can't take it. That feeling of hatred feels sort of empty, the background you chose goes well with that. Maybe that's why I feel numb. I suppose that I've read so much sadness, that I too, have begun to grow numb. But... even though everything feels this way, I have to believe that after the rain, everything will be fresh and clean again. I don't know why I'm writing all this... I don't even know if it makes sense. However, I think that instead of deleting this, I'll let you be the judge of that.

Anyway, the actual way this was written came out great, It was definitely thought provoking. I think you actually inspired me to write something about this, so thank you!

Same person as before posted comment: reaction to revision

2006-05-28T20:13:00.000-07:00

i only have 4 words. AM PRINTING IT OFF!

thank you for the im about the revised version.

and im:

This is brilliant yep have my copy in hand. I think this will make a good performance piece. i run a performance group locally, only once a month, but next month will read it out so will let you know how it goes. am impressed. APPLAUSE TO YOU i will drop in from time to time yep will put you on my list to watch out for as well. You really have done an excellent revision.

* * *

That makes me so happy! *Grin*

Edited Version: That Kind of Courage

2006-05-27T11:07:00.000-07:00

It’s the way that you sing
How you fearlessly tremble
It’s the power you bring
As you tearlessly rise

It’s the power you have
To stand up and speak
It’s the source of your power
That only you reach

It’s a well deep inside you
That pools in your words
The glistening thunder
Life in a word

It’s inspirational living,
An unstoppable urge.

How can you sparkle
So connected to others
How is it you smile
And laugh like no other?

I love to feel you;
Your power and song
No other lecture
Can linger so long

It’s the things you can touch
The freedom you bring us
It’s blissful rapture
A sudden spring shower

When you get up to speak
I sit down to listen
We watch you, unwavered
As you demand our attention

You stumble and stutter
And you slip in the rain
You tuck away tears
As you hide away pain

I’ve never been able
To move at your pace
Your strength is astounding
Your perseverance is grace

It isn’t success
Which you eventually reach
But how you never quit trying
To love and to teach

It’s that commitment
That draws me to you
You fail and try harder
Things I’d never do

It’s that kind of courage
I admire the most
It’s your kind of courage
I wish I could boast

Comment

2006-05-14T20:59:00.000-07:00

ok i think you have a good write here but it just goes on and in places left me wanting it to end..
You stumble and stutter
And you slip in the rain
You get back up
And just move forward..

perhaps this will help explain what i felt ... the first 2 lines have some power i was looking for more in the 3rd line the flow goes into oh yeah and you just move forward...so what...i guess i was thinking i really want to be hit between the eyes with so strong words...if this makes any sense i do think you have a very good write here just needs to be tightened up a bit...take out some of the and the little words that can weaken a write not really needed to impart the meaning and keep it strong....still i did enjoy the thoughts behind it. attitude give me attitude... thank you for sharing and please keep the ink flowing...always in peace & harmoy.

I received this comment on the previous poem at allpoetry, and I was delighted! This is the kind of comment that I needed, it's very useful. It's not much that I didn't know, but it's helpful. I intend to fix the poem up sometime soon.

Yet another poem: That Kind of Courage: Editing

2006-05-14T20:51:00.000-07:00

It’s the way you sing
How you fearlessly tremble
It’s the power you bring
As you tearlessly rise

It’s the power you have
To stand up and speak
It’s the source of your power
That only you reach

It’s a well deep inside you
That pools in your words
The glistening thunder
Life in a word

It’s inspirational living,
An unstoppable urge.

How can you sparkle
So connected to others
How is it you smile
And laugh like no other?

I love to feel you;
Your power and song
No other lecture
Can linger so long

It’s the things you can touch
The freedom you bring us
It’s blissful rapture
A sudden spring shower

When you get up to speak
I sit down to listen
We watch you, unwavered
As you demand our attention

You stumble and stutter
And you slip in the rain
You get back up
And just move forward

The above stanza's a bit jammed. The last two lines at least

I’ve never been able
To move at your pace
Your strength is astounding
Your perseverance is grace

It isn’t success
That you eventually reach
But how you never quit trying
Or fear a fall
Okay, that last line just plain sucks

It’s that commitment
That draws me to you
You fail and try harder
Thing I’d never do

It’s that kind of courage
I admire the most
It’s your kind of courage
I wish I could boast

Entry 3: Husky Habit

2006-03-28T19:25:00.000-08:00

If she gets sympathy, she continues to try to get your help or complain to you. Therefore I don't give her sympathy or react in a particularly strong way, so she doesn't feel even more inclined to complain to me or try to gain pity or sympathy. The more tolerant you are, the more likely she will try to gain sympathy for things that are unnecessary or not as important as she tries to make them seem.

Purpose

2006-02-23T16:33:00.000-08:00

I think that the reason I write is because I hate feeling useless. When I'm not doing anything constructive, I get pretty weird. I start acing very dull and feel easily irritated. I always want to be learning something or creating something. When I write, I'm expressing myself, but I'm also fulfilling my need to accomplish something or actually produce something. I sing for the same reason. I'm trying to actually make something substantial. I guess sound isn't substantial, but the feelings it creates aren't. I also sing because I don't talk much, and it's a good way to use my voice loudly. It can be hard to find things to do, but writing allows for endless possibilities. Without it, I don't know what I'd do.

Revised Edition

2006-01-29T09:19:00.000-08:00

Lingering Shadow
No matter how much I push
and try to force you away
you still remain here
lodged in my heart;
etched in my memories;
lost in my dreams.
No matter how I resist you
you still remain here
hiding within me
searching for something
I claim not to have.
And yet, every time
when I think of you,
you slip through my fingers
and flee from my grasp.
You are my future,
my present,
my past.
Every time I reach for you
I clasp empty air.
Every time I call to you,
and dream of you,
my dear.
I cannot escape you,
you’re just out of reach.
I know I can't have you,
that right has been taken.
Still, every time you’re in sight,
my feet will move forwards,
my arms will extend,
I’ll fall flat on my face dear
and you’ll be gone once again.
But in spite of that,
because of that too,
I will never stop chasing.
I'll follow forever,
those traces of you
will not yet be gone.
If you cannot leave me,
I refuse to move on.
I will keep trying to catch you
forever my dear,
my demon,
my shadow,
forever stay near.

Lingering Shadow: Editing

2006-01-28T08:23:00.000-08:00

no matter how much I push
and try to force you away
you still remain here
lodged in my heart
etched in my memories
lost in my dreams
echoing in my thoughts
That part seems to long, it disrupts the flow.
no matter how I try to resist
and deny your aid
Hmm, seems a bit out of place.
you still remain here
hiding within me
searching for something
I claim not to have
and yet, every time
when I think of you,
you slip through my fingers
and flee from my grasp
you are my future,
my present,
my past,
every time I reach for you
I clasp empty air
every time I call to you
and dream of you,
my dear,
I really like this part, it ties together nicely.
I cannot escape you
and yet you’re beyond my grasp
That line is to long.
I know I can't have you
and hold you close to me
Try some alternate beginnings, and doesn’t do the sentiment justice.
but every time that you are in sight,
my feet go forwards
my arms reach out
and I fall flat on my face dear
And is unnessesary, dear needs some punctuation-to be seperated.
and you are gone
Again, alternate beginning, maybe then? Or end in once again. (Still excluding and)
but in spite of that,
because of that,
I will never stop chasing
I'll follow forever
This is good, especially the first two lines.
traces still linger
haunting my soul,
More blunt and defining than the rest of this, possibly too much so.
if you refuse to leave me
I refuse to move on
After the last two lines, these seem out of place, just too shoved in there.
I will keep trying to catch you,
forever my dear,
my demon,
my shadow.
This is good, but it might need another line, as in “my future, my present, my past” Or is that just an urge to rhyme? (Maybe: my fear; that's you my dear; the dream that lasts?)

Untouchable

2006-01-27T22:22:00.000-08:00

Untouchable

How can you hear me
yet still be here?
How can you see me
and not disappear?
How can you know me
and make me feel?
How can you touch me
yet still be real...

Lawless Bonds

2005-12-20T09:12:00.000-08:00

A poem I wrote once upon a time....

A link between two things
A forbidden connection
A love between two beings
following no laws

Simple joy,
not empty laughter.
A widespread reverence
between life and land.

Just a feeling,
a chilling breeze
making the water
spray from the sea.

A light in the dark,
a fire at night.
Night of the new moon,
darkness transcending light.

And age old battle
between canine and feline.
Opposite forces,
yet somehow linked.

All of these things,
two opposing entities.
All linked to another,
by lawless bonds.

Here's a Classic

2005-11-10T20:59:00.000-08:00

The Raven

by Edgar Allan Poe

First Published in 1845

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 someone 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 name Lenore,
Nameless here forevermore.

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 the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness 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, something 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 the 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 upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."

But the raven, sitting lonely on that 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."

Thus 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 lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim whose footfalls 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!
Quaff, O 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 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 lamplight 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!