Reprinted With Permission Vol. 1
Sunday, Dec. 08, 2002 - 11:24 PM

once upon a midnight dreary...

by Bethany

while you ponder, weak and weary

in the bleakness of december, you hear

a rapping, gentle rapping, upon your chamber door.

assuming you have a chamber.

which is, admittedly, extraordinarily slim.

nevertheless.

"surely," you say,

"surely that is something at my window lattice;"

here again we assume that you do actually have window lattice,

at which foul night creatures may tenderly tap.

foul, get it? anyway. moving along.

so then you say, something like,

"let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;--"

because you are especially fond of semi-colons,

"'t is the wind and nothing more!"

how naive.

open here you fling the shutter,

when, with many a flirt and flutter,

in there steps a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.

and you're all, what the heck?

not a minute stopped or stayed he--

he perched, and sat, and nothing more.

"tell me what thy lordly name is on the night's plutonian shore!"

you speak to the bird. what? it's late. you can't help it.

and though its answer little meaning-- little relevancy bore,

quoth the raven, "precious."

and you're like, dude! it talks!

back into the chamber turning,

all your soul within you burning,

you betake to such words as tempest.

nepenthe, respite. etc.

"get thee to a nunnery!" you implore.

no, wait...

"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, "it's all about earlier bedtimes for you, pal."

lenore, lenore.

*available for framing.

Speak Up


< - Latest - Ex-entries - Pete's Mom Index - CoffeeOrder - Notes - Email - >


Ex-Entries

It's Not Supposed To Burn When You Wake Up

New Post

So Let It Be

Customer Gets Serviced

Keri Is Going To Hell

My current imood: Is unavailable.
IM Me on AIM
| IM My Cell

Copyright � 2002-2005 Cherry Soda and a Porch Swing, Summer of '54 Productions
Get Firefox!