I woke with a start when I heard someone knocking on my front door. “Is someone there,” I asked groggily, rubbing my eyes and crawling out of bed.
“It’s me, Nevaeh.”
I ran to the door, now excited and less tired. I opened the door and found my friend, Brayden, standing there. He smiled as I motioned for him to step inside. Walking into the living room, we each sat on either end of the sofa.
After a few seconds, I decided to break the silence. “Something wrong?” I asked, anxious.
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Um,” he murmured, then paused. I waited patiently for him to continue, but he didn’t.
“Yes?” I asked softly.
“Nice pajamas,” he said, chuckling. He seemed to relax just a little as I looked down and noticed that I was wearing my striped pajamas with sheep and the words “cute thing” written all over them. I blushed, but he only chuckled once more. I had a small crush -well not that small- on Brayden. Every time I saw his athletic build, or looked into his deep brown eyes and his beautiful face my heart palpitated.
I cleared my voice, then asked him, “You were saying?”
“Oh…yeah,” he started again, growing tense.
“Go on,” I encouraged him.
He shifted once more, then turned his head and stared me in the eyes. I blushed, as usual. Brayden moved to the middle cushion of the couch, then leaned over, quiet swiftly, and leveled his handsome face to mine. Then, quickly, but gently, kissed me. He looked up into my eyes, as he had before, and held my gaze as I blushed fiercely. My heart seemed to stop.
“Was that okay?” he whispered.
I nodded, mute from his brief kiss. He sat up, his back straight, looking anxious.
“I’m sorry, Nevaeh. I shouldn’t have done that.” He looked at his hands, which pressed together, his thumbs twirling in a circular motion around each other.
My heart beat faster as I looked at him, my face growing crimson. I turned to stare out the window so he couldn’t see my blushing, and waited for him to start again.
He grabbed hold of my right hand, the closest to him, and I turned from the window, startled once more. “It’s Connor.”
I stared at Brayden in confusion. Just yesterday Connor had called me. I remembered the moment clearly. Connor Read was my lab partner and also one of my ex-boyfriends. I’d told him off yesterday, after listening impatiently while he mumbled on and on about the reasons he’d cheated on me last year. I did it, though I was a little more than frightened.
I racked my brain, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together, but there were missing parts. It didn’t sum up. Brayden was here, holding my had after giving me the most startling kiss I’ve ever had in my life. And I had no idea where Connor was, and frankly, I didn’t care. Why was Brayden bringing up the idiot’s name? It didn’t make sense.
“I…don’t understand, Bray,” I murmured.
He sighed, reaching over to take my left hand as well. He looked down at them. “Connor Read told me about yesterday.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What about it?” I had no intentions of bringing Connor, one of my enemies, into the conversation of the guy I’d been crushing on for five months. The guy who just kissed me…
“He threatened me.” Brayden lifted his eyes from our hands and held my glare for a few seconds as I tried to comprehend what he was saying. I barely could. I still hadn’t fully recovered from his actions moments before.
Then it hit me. Connor wanted me. He’d have me, too, one way or other. “But why?”
“I love, you, Nevaeh. I’ve never did anything to hurt you. But Connor…” he said, his voice trailing off. “He’s no good for you. I understand if you don’t want me, but all Connor wants is someone to hold when he has no one else.”
“I want you, Bray. I’ve wanted you since you stood up for me the first time Connor hurt me.” After I’d accused him of cheating on me, he’d hit me. Brayden had been in the neighborhood and heard my cry, unlike the neighbors who were out of town at the time.
I noticed him stiffen after I spoke the words, but he relaxed as he comprehended the first part. He put his arms around me, hugging me tightly to his chest as I smiled.
“I won’t let him hurt you, Nevaeh. Never.” I saw his jaw clench as he thought about it. I was so happy at the moment. It felt so right being in Brayden’s arms.
But as I began to arrange my thoughts I began to worry. Connor had been working out a lot lately. I’d seen him at the gym a few times. He was jogging past my house the other day, as well. Was he preparing? No, that’d be ridiculous…Probably just a coincidence, or was it? I hoped I was wrong. I DESPERATLEY hoped I was wrong.
“What are you thinking about?” Brayden whispered. I felt his warm breath on the side of my ear. It comforted me in some odd way, so I hugged him tighter.
“Different things…”I answered. I didn’t want him to know that I was doubting his strength, but in a way I was. “What are YOU thinking about?”
I waited patiently for him to
answer, and then after a long moment he finally did. “You,” he answered. It was a simple three letter, one syllable word, though it had so much more meaning to it than you could possibly imagine.

I woke with a start when I heard someone knocking on my front door. “Is someone there,” I asked groggily, rubbing my eyes and crawling out of bed.
“It’s me, Nevaeh.”
I ran to the door, now excited and less tired. I opened the door and found my friend, Brayden, standing there. He smiled as I motioned for him to step inside. Walking into the living room, we each sat on either end of the sofa.
After a few seconds, I decided to break the silence. “Something wrong?” I asked, anxious.
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Um,” he murmured, then paused. I waited patiently for him to continue, but he didn’t.
“Yes?” I asked softly.
“Nice pajamas,” he said, chuckling. He seemed to relax just a little as I looked down and noticed that I was wearing my striped pajamas with sheep and the words “cute thing” written all over them. I blushed, but he only chuckled once more. I had a small crush -well not that small- on Brayden. Every time I saw his athletic build, or looked into his deep brown eyes and his beautiful face my heart palpitated.
I cleared my voice, then asked him, “You were saying?”
“Oh…yeah,” he started again, growing tense.
“Go on,” I encouraged him.
He shifted once more, then turned his head and stared me in the eyes. I blushed, as usual. Brayden moved to the middle cushion of the couch, then leaned over, quiet swiftly, and leveled his handsome face to mine. Then, quickly, but gently, kissed me. He looked up into my eyes, as he had before, and held my gaze as I blushed fiercely. My heart seemed to stop.
“Was that okay?” he whispered.
I nodded, mute from his brief kiss. He sat up, his back straight, looking anxious.
“I’m sorry, Nevaeh. I shouldn’t have done that.” He looked at his hands, which pressed together, his thumbs twirling in a circular motion around each other.

(Please don’t be rude, but tell me anything I can change…)
Thx!
sorry..my paragraphs don’t really look like paragraphs. =/

this is my favorite poem i want to know what you think of it

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`’Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.’

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; – vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow – sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me – filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,’

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,’ said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you’ – here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!’
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!’
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,’ said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
‘Tis the wind and nothing more!’

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,’ I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning – little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.’

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered – not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow 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.’

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,’ I cried, `thy God hath lent thee – by these angels he has sent thee
Respite – respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

`Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted – tell me truly, I implore -
Is there – is there balm in Gilead? – tell me – tell me, I implore!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

`Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us – by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!’ I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! – quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted – nevermore!

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 –
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me – filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door –
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door –
This it is and nothing more.
Presently my soul grew stronger: hesitating then no longer,
Sir, said I, or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping.
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you. – Here I opened wide the door –
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
Put the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only world there spoken was the whispered word, Lenore!
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, Lenore!
This, and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping, somewhat louder than before.
Surely, said I, «surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore, –
Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore,
Tis the wind, and nothing more.
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he, not a minute stopped or stayed he,
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door –
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door –
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then, this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling
By the grave and stem decorum of the countenance it wore,
Though the crest be shorn and shaven, thou, I said, art sure no craven,
Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the nightly shore.
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the night’s Plutonian shore!
Quoth the Raven, Nevermore.
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning, little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door –
Bird or beast 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 farther 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
Following 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 fancy 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 oi 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 lamplight gloated o’cr –
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; and than my mom got scared and said you’re moving with your auntie and uncle in Bel-Air. Well I whistled for a cab and when it came near the license plate said fresh and had dice in the mirror if anything I could say that this cab was rare I thought “naw forget it your homes in bel-air”. Well I walked up to the house about seven or eight a
nd my mom got scared and said you’re moving with your auntie and uncle in Bel-Air. Well I whistled for a cab and when it came near the license plate said fresh and had dice in the mirror. If anything I could say that this cab was rare but I thought naw forget it your homes in Bel-Air. I walked up to the house about seven or eight and yelled to the cabby yo holmes smell yah later. I looked at my kingdom I was finally there to sit on my throne as the prince of Bel-Air.

Bibliography: www.thepounder.com
Hmm.. I seemed to have had messed up that finishing part (in this post, I mean it was just supposed to be the full fresh prince of Bel-Air, not that chopped up crap.

Anyways, I gave the bibliography www.thepounder.com

I had a dream, which felt very real, I jotted it down as soon as I woke up and then fleshed out the details later in the day. What do you think so far? PLEASE comment.

Lisa looked around, she knew time was running out. Adrenaline shot through her system, silence except her panting breath, her heart racing. No time. She had to be quick now. She raced around the cement halls with the receiver, a small black transmitter held tight In her hand. She knew someone was following, someone could be right around the corner. She found her way to the front of the old abandoned cement block building, previously a tech college, it had closed when the government relocated to a new improved site on the other side of the city. Lisa decided to run left. She scanned the skyline, looking towards the buildings in the distance, some blocks behind. She knew it would have to be one of these that the transmitter corresponded with, she felt fear knowing that she was going to be too late. The device hummed in her hand, she needed to deactivate it.

She heard the footsteps before she turned. Behind her he laughed “Silly girl, you think you would get away that easily?”
Shit, what was she going to do? She turned to face him front on, noticing how his eyes speedily lapped up her presence. She knew he was turned on by her, standing there scantily clad in nothing more than underwear, sweaty from the run, dirty from the cell, bruised from his hand. He liked power and before him he saw another chance at power, he wanted her, she knew that he loved the challenge she gave him. A frightened wild animal only feet away and nowhere to run fast enough. There would be no point in screaming, yelling for help, the place was absent of any other beings. She feigned defeat, letting her body posture convey a trade from flight mode to defenseless and vulnerable. He felt the switch, his eyes glinting, feeling power that she had resigned to the fact there was no choice, he would take her again.
“Please, just don’t hurt me, I will come” she slowly crouched to the floor to show that she was submissive, kneeling half on one knee, fingers contacting the cement before her, hanging her head between her shoulders staring at the ground. Her eyes glanced around, darting swiftly looking for a potential weapon to assist her. To the left she could see a star picket stake, laying flat on the garden border, obviously a former sign pole directing students to their appropriate class blocks. Still too far to grab without retaliation from him.
In a blink he marched upon her, long heavy strides to close the distance, she made a split second decision and made a lunge in the direction of the stake. He was too fast, grabbing her hair in a thick handful as she attempted to close the distance to the potential weapon. Her head wrenched backwards, pain shooting through her scalp down her neck, she screeched in agony and despair. He laughed as he pinned her, face down, to the floor, knee heavy against her back, her chest crushed against the cement.
“As if you could reach it fast enough you stupid woman, I’ve told you once before not to fight me – you cannot win”, the thrill of the capture emanating in his voice.
Lisa attempted to break free from his weight upon her back, convulsing herself to try and squirm out of the hold. She knew if she could at least face upwards, towards him she would have a better chance to defend herself and attack him. He dropped his knee to her side and then pressed his full body against her back side, pushing his pelvis with a little more force into her buttocks
“I like it when you struggle against me, keep wriggling for me”
Lisa immediately held still, feeling the thickness at his groin press into her rear. Fear and panic rushed through her. A severe pain pierced her stomach, a crushing pressure of anxiety filled her torso, helpless and alone she felt beat, there was no point in struggling any longer.

He considered whether he should rip the thin fabric from her firm ass and just have some fun now, there wasn’t anyone around, and he had decided her fate now. No more playing with the prey, get the business done and finished. Close the deal. Glaring down inches from his face he watched a trickle of sweat glide slowly down her neck, her long dark hair had fallen to one side and cushioned her face against the tough concrete below. Her body, unclothed except for the scant cotton bra and boyshorts, was dirty from the filthy small room he had kept her. There below him she felt delicate and defenseless, her toned physique not alluring to her previous resistant intensity. He did wish he wouldn’t have to rush it though, she was the most fascinating creature he had kept. Even now before him, deflated and defeated, pressed underneath his body she appealed to some crude desire to shield her from harm, he had always enjoyed the power and had little empathy for any of his conquests. But something about her whipped up feelings he had long forgotton

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`’Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.’

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; – vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow – sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me – filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,’

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,’ said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you’ – here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!’
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!’
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,’ said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
‘Tis the wind and nothing more!’

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,’ I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning – little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.’

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered – not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow 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.’

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,’ I cried, `thy God hath lent thee – by these angels he has sent thee
Respite – respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

`Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – p

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 some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`’Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.’

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; – vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow – sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me – filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,’

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,’ said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you’ – here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!’
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!’
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,’ said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
‘Tis the wind and nothing more!’

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,’ I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning – little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.’

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered – not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow 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.’

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,’ I cried, `thy God hath lent thee – by these angels he has sent thee
Respite – respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!’
Quoth the

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.
" ‘T is 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 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.
" ‘T is some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door–
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door–
That 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 mortal 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 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–
‘T is the wind an 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 a bove 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 marveled 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 the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpoor.
Nothing further then he uttered, not a feather then he fluttered–
Till I scarcely more then 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 utteres is it 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 the melancholy burden bore
Of ‘Never – nevermore.’"

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy 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 lamp-light gloating o’er
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God has lent thee — by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite — respite the nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh, quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`’Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.’

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; – vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow – sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me – filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,’

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,’ said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you’ – here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!’
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!’
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,’ said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
‘Tis the wind and nothing more!’

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,’ I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning – little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.’

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered – not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow 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.’

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,’ I cried, `thy God hath lent thee – by these angels he has sent thee
Respite – respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

`Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – p

Could you indicate either Floor Cushion Bench Chair Walking Music or Silence etc
Thanks in advance for Your answer
Joseph it is unfair of you to use my question to drum up business for that organisation who are requesting a "donation"of at least for their products