7
   

HBTY,HBTY,HB, DEAR EDGAR , HBTY

 
 
djjd62
 
  1  
Reply Sat 17 Jan, 2009 07:12 pm
@littlek,
i think poe would have liked all the fuss, even if he was a dour little man
littlek
 
  2  
Reply Sat 17 Jan, 2009 07:14 pm
@littlek,
A more appropriate cake....?

http://farm1.static.flickr.com/31/53498212_6d5d00f6f4.jpg?v=0
djjd62
 
  1  
Reply Sat 17 Jan, 2009 07:16 pm
@littlek,
that's an awesome cake
0 Replies
 
edgarblythe
 
  1  
Reply Sat 17 Jan, 2009 07:17 pm
@djjd62,
djjd62 wrote:

i think poe would have liked all the fuss, even if he was a dour little man


The man of the dour.
0 Replies
 
edgarblythe
 
  2  
Reply Sat 17 Jan, 2009 07:20 pm
ULALUME

The skies they were ashen and sober;
The leaves they were crisped and sere-
The leaves they were withering and sere;
It was night in the lonesome October
Of my most immemorial year;
It was hard by the dim lake of Auber,
In the misty mid region of Weir-
It was down by the dank tarn of Auber,
In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.

Here once, through an alley Titanic,
Of cypress, I roamed with my Soul-
Of cypress, with Psyche, my Soul.
There were days when my heart was volcanic
As the scoriac rivers that roll-
As the lavas that restlessly roll
Their sulphurous currents down Yaanek
In the ultimate climes of the pole-
That groan as they roll down Mount Yaanek
In the realms of the boreal pole.

Our talk had been serious and sober,
But our thoughts they were palsied and sere-
Our memories were treacherous and sere-
For we knew not the month was October,
And we marked not the night of the year-
(Ah, night of all nights in the year!)
We noted not the dim lake of Auber-
(Though once we had journeyed down here),
Remembered not the dank tarn of Auber,
Nor the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.

And now, as the night was senescent,
And star-dials pointed to morn-
As the star-dials hinted of morn-
At the end of our path a liquescent
And nebulous lustre was born,
Out of which a miraculous crescent
Arose with a duplicate horn-
Astarte's bediamonded crescent
Distinct with its duplicate horn.

And I said- "She is warmer than Dian:
She rolls through an ether of sighs-
She revels in a region of sighs:
She has seen that the tears are not dry on
These cheeks, where the worm never dies,
And has come past the stars of the Lion,
To point us the path to the skies-
To the Lethean peace of the skies-
Come up, in despite of the Lion,
To shine on us with her bright eyes-
Come up through the lair of the Lion,
With love in her luminous eyes."

But Psyche, uplifting her finger,
Said- "Sadly this star I mistrust-
Her pallor I strangely mistrust:-
Oh, hasten!- oh, let us not linger!
Oh, fly!- let us fly!- for we must."
In terror she spoke, letting sink her
Wings until they trailed in the dust-
In agony sobbed, letting sink her
Plumes till they trailed in the dust-
Till they sorrowfully trailed in the dust.

I replied- "This is nothing but dreaming:
Let us on by this tremulous light!
Let us bathe in this crystalline light!
Its Sybilic splendor is beaming
With Hope and in Beauty to-night:-
See!- it flickers up the sky through the night!
Ah, we safely may trust to its gleaming,
And be sure it will lead us aright-
We safely may trust to a gleaming
That cannot but guide us aright,
Since it flickers up to Heaven through the night."

Thus I pacified Psyche and kissed her,
And tempted her out of her gloom-
And conquered her scruples and gloom;
And we passed to the end of the vista,
But were stopped by the door of a tomb-
By the door of a legended tomb;
And I said- "What is written, sweet sister,
On the door of this legended tomb?"
She replied- "Ulalume- Ulalume-
'Tis the vault of thy lost Ulalume!"

Then my heart it grew ashen and sober
As the leaves that were crisped and sere-
As the leaves that were withering and sere-
And I cried- "It was surely October
On this very night of last year
That I journeyed- I journeyed down here-
That I brought a dread burden down here-
On this night of all nights in the year,
Ah, what demon has tempted me here?
Well I know, now, this dim lake of Auber-
This misty mid region of Weir-
Well I know, now, this dank tarn of Auber,
This ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir."
0 Replies
 
djjd62
 
  2  
Reply Sat 17 Jan, 2009 07:24 pm
0 Replies
 
Rockhead
 
  1  
Reply Sat 17 Jan, 2009 07:26 pm
A raven for Ed

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cLSmhpwLdEQ&feature=related
0 Replies
 
farmerman
 
  1  
Reply Sat 17 Jan, 2009 08:09 pm
Homers "Raven" ranks up there with the greatest poetry slams ever
0 Replies
 
Rockhead
 
  1  
Reply Sat 17 Jan, 2009 08:09 pm
for Dj...

the egg.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xWTZSfFaCck&feature=related
0 Replies
 
farmerman
 
  1  
Reply Sat 17 Jan, 2009 08:12 pm
PErhapps a round of fine AMantillado, from this very cask.
farmerman
 
  1  
Reply Sat 17 Jan, 2009 08:36 pm
@farmerman,
BUT ONLY AFTER THE FOLLOWING REMONSTRATION:

"The flagon with the poison's
In the vessel with the pestle.
The chalice from the palace
has the brew that is true."
0 Replies
 
edgarblythe
 
  1  
Reply Sat 17 Jan, 2009 11:20 pm
It was his spriggin' eye. I hated that pale blue orb. 'Course I loved the old man. BUT! He had to die if I were to be rid of it! And if I put him with Hoffa's body - Well, let's just say, the fuzz would be thwarted. Late that night, I busted in, chain saw buzzing. "Ah!" he screamed but an instant. I continued cutting til he dropped through the floor. Then I threw a rug over it. The perfect crime. I rinsed the chain saw with the same dipper we always drank from, then put it on the table, and dropped a lampshade over it. I brewed a wonderful Earl Grey and awaited the POlice, snickering. "He he. Wait til they see how rational I am, how calm. Yup yup."

farmerman
 
  1  
Reply Sun 18 Jan, 2009 06:28 am
@edgarblythe,
...but the cursed heartbeat, When the police arrived , I was certain they would hear it, It was louder and louder...


JIMMY HOFFA?
0 Replies
 
farmerman
 
  1  
Reply Mon 19 Jan, 2009 06:45 am
Poor RAvens, they have no gift for their namesake.
0 Replies
 
edgarblythe
 
  1  
Reply Mon 19 Jan, 2009 01:18 pm
The Balloon Hoax"
Newspaper story about balloon travel
This story appeared in the New York Sun in 1844 and claimed to have details about a group of men that successfully crossed the Atlantic Ocean in a new type of balloon. Although it looked like a real story, it was completely ficticious, created entirely from Poe's imagination.

This looks like something I might have tried. - edgarblythe
farmerman
 
  1  
Reply Mon 19 Jan, 2009 06:06 pm
@edgarblythe,
well, did the flower and the cup of brandy appear at the Poe grave memorial site this AM? .


0 Replies
 
edgarblythe
 
  1  
Reply Mon 19 Jan, 2009 08:23 pm
I had poe taters for dinner.
0 Replies
 
gustavratzenhofer
 
  1  
Reply Mon 19 Jan, 2009 08:30 pm
I found it rather amusing the time, several years back, when Sylvester Stallone wanted to play the role of Edgar Allan Poe in a movie that was never made.

Thank God for small favors.
edgarblythe
 
  1  
Reply Mon 19 Jan, 2009 08:38 pm
@gustavratzenhofer,
He would have made a good Herman Munster.
0 Replies
 
farmerman
 
  1  
Reply Mon 19 Jan, 2009 08:52 pm
@gustavratzenhofer,
Stallone as Poe and we need to get William Shatner, Kevin Costner, and Jim CArey in on that movie.


HAs anyone seen Shatners TV interview show?
0 Replies
 
 

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