Lovex - Anyone Anymore
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# Posté le lundi 02 novembre 2009 23:26
Je suis devenue Lady Crow en lisant ces vers il y a bien longtemps...
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."
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,
"'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,BR> 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 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 ;— '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 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."
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 my sad 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 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 hath sent thee
Respite — respite and nepenthe [3] , 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 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'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 !
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 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,
"'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,BR> 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 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 ;— '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 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."
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 my sad 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 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 hath sent thee
Respite — respite and nepenthe [3] , 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 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'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 !
Edgard Allan Poe
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# Posté le lundi 02 novembre 2009 12:56
If You Were My Vampire...
Comme certains le savent je tenais à jour il y a quelques temps un book en tant que modèle et bien je remets le couvert avec un nouveau book en tant que photographe cette fois pour faire partager mon travail et recevoir quelques avis et critiques sur mes modestes créations. Je serais reconnaissante à toute personne intéressée d'y jeter un ½il et de me laisser son opinion, qu'elle soit negative ou positive ! Merci.
http://rowena.bookfoto.com
http://rowena.bookfoto.com
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# Posté le dimanche 01 novembre 2009 21:43
Modifié le lundi 09 novembre 2009 23:17
My beating heart belongs to you... :(
Comme c'est décevant... comme la vie et les gens que vous côtoyez s'avèrent décevant au final. En quoi faut-il croire ?
A l'amour ? Sûrement pas. On a de l'espoir déception après déception, on continue à croire que peut-être un jour on rencontrera quelqu'un qui a la même vision que vous et sur qui vous pourrez vous reposer. Mais seulement un jour ces putains de déceptions finiront par vous user... vous déchirer, vous faire tomber à genoux et vous détruire.
Aux vertus de l'amitié ? J'aurais un peu de mal à m'exprimer sur le sujet... Tout simplement parce que je ne pense pas avoir rencontrer à ce jour une personne qui m'aurait prouvé que cette chose existe. C'est facile d'avoir des connaissances, des gens à qui ont parle vite fait... Mais des gens qui connaissent tout de vous, qui donne sans rien vouloir en retour, qui vous accepte, vous aime, vous le prouve, vous pardonne, donnerait sa vie pour vous et fait partie de vous, ça c'est autre chose. Tout le monde part, tout le monde est intéressé par quelque chose qui n'est pas vraiment vous, tout le monde vous jalouse ou vous méprise. J'aimerai avoir rencontré les bonnes personnes mais ce n'est jamais arrivé. Je ne suis pourtant pas une psychopathe, ni quelqu'un de méchant mais le fait est que je suis toujours tombé sur des cassos en puissance, dont certains cachaient bien leur jeu.
A la famille ? La je ne pense pas non plus pouvoir bien concevoir la chose. Mais avoir une famille aimante doit être le plus merveilleux des cadeaux et une chose formidable. La non plus je n'ai pas eu beaucoup de chance mais je ne dois pas me plaindre car beaucoup de gens en ce monde ont une vie mille fois pire que la mienne.
En conclusion, je suis sûrement quelqu'un de désabusé et qui ne croit plus en grand chose. Mais je crois en la poésie et la musique. Ces deux choses sont si pures quand elles sont bien utilisées...
Les belles manières, le beau langage, voila ce que j'aime dans la poésie. Cette façon d'exprimer ce que l'on ressent d'une manière tellement belle.
Dans la musique, je vois des gens qui ont couchés sur le papier et plus tard sur les cordes de leur guitare leurs sentiments et leurs émotions. Des gens qui font passer un message, le plus beaux des messages...
A l'amour ? Sûrement pas. On a de l'espoir déception après déception, on continue à croire que peut-être un jour on rencontrera quelqu'un qui a la même vision que vous et sur qui vous pourrez vous reposer. Mais seulement un jour ces putains de déceptions finiront par vous user... vous déchirer, vous faire tomber à genoux et vous détruire.
Aux vertus de l'amitié ? J'aurais un peu de mal à m'exprimer sur le sujet... Tout simplement parce que je ne pense pas avoir rencontrer à ce jour une personne qui m'aurait prouvé que cette chose existe. C'est facile d'avoir des connaissances, des gens à qui ont parle vite fait... Mais des gens qui connaissent tout de vous, qui donne sans rien vouloir en retour, qui vous accepte, vous aime, vous le prouve, vous pardonne, donnerait sa vie pour vous et fait partie de vous, ça c'est autre chose. Tout le monde part, tout le monde est intéressé par quelque chose qui n'est pas vraiment vous, tout le monde vous jalouse ou vous méprise. J'aimerai avoir rencontré les bonnes personnes mais ce n'est jamais arrivé. Je ne suis pourtant pas une psychopathe, ni quelqu'un de méchant mais le fait est que je suis toujours tombé sur des cassos en puissance, dont certains cachaient bien leur jeu.
A la famille ? La je ne pense pas non plus pouvoir bien concevoir la chose. Mais avoir une famille aimante doit être le plus merveilleux des cadeaux et une chose formidable. La non plus je n'ai pas eu beaucoup de chance mais je ne dois pas me plaindre car beaucoup de gens en ce monde ont une vie mille fois pire que la mienne.
En conclusion, je suis sûrement quelqu'un de désabusé et qui ne croit plus en grand chose. Mais je crois en la poésie et la musique. Ces deux choses sont si pures quand elles sont bien utilisées...
Les belles manières, le beau langage, voila ce que j'aime dans la poésie. Cette façon d'exprimer ce que l'on ressent d'une manière tellement belle.
Dans la musique, je vois des gens qui ont couchés sur le papier et plus tard sur les cordes de leur guitare leurs sentiments et leurs émotions. Des gens qui font passer un message, le plus beaux des messages...
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# Posté le jeudi 22 octobre 2009 19:05
21st Century Breakdown (l)
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A obtenue son code !!!
..
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# Posté le lundi 19 octobre 2009 17:22
Modifié le mardi 20 octobre 2009 11:46
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