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"The soul that can speak through the eyes, can also kiss with a gaze."
~Gustav Adolfo Becquer

I've been invited to be a member

>> Sunday, July 20, 2008

of The Society of the Midnight Wanderers, a site currently consisting of 34 other writers, whose goal is to provide "a medium where all of us can share our works, define ourselves as a society of writers, and to have fun while doing so."

This site's two founding authors, JD Beaudoin from The Supplicant and Mike J. Kannengieser from Mr. Grudge have established a wonderful place where writers can include their works among others who enjoy the art of the written word and spread their wings.
I can't tell you how thrilled I am to have even been considered, feeling like I am only just learning to fly. Though I am not very familar with Mike's works (yet!) or most of the other writers on that site, I am however, a big fan of JD's!
JD is a Professional/retired Military photographer, who is currently attending university for English and History and working towards his Master's in English. Aside from a simply wonderful poet and writer (he is currently in the process of writing a novel), he is also quite an accomplished artist in wood-carving and digital photography. I think his writing is wonderful, intimate, and demonstrates an incredible sensitivity to him that easily draws you in, wanting more.
Please read one of my favorites from him, The Gift, and you'll understand what I mean.

The Society's Badge, as seen above, will be on my sidebar. Just click on it to take you to that site, and discover a world where literary expressions and beautiful photos come together and, like a bird, take flight.

(JD, Thank you. I am very intimidated nervous honored you would consider me!) :)


The Raven

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 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 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 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 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 blest 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 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 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, 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 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!

~Edgar Allen Poe

11 Reflections:

The Supplicant 2:19 PM, July 21, 2008  

Hi Greeneyezz

Wow! I'm humbled. Now if you could convince these book publishers or the art galleries of my greatest ... :-)

Thank you so much for the kind words.

I know you will fit in, no problem, and I really look forward to seeing your work there and the subsequent comments.

Now, I'm off to build a Gazebo ;-)

Have a great week!


Greeneyezz 3:06 PM, July 21, 2008  


Yeah, well if you end up with a book deal, I'll settle with an autographed copy.

The art galleries however, is another story. I'm still recalling that beautiful photoshopped leaf you once posted on the site that you had *before* I owned stock in Duct Tape! *smiles brightly*
(How are them fingers lookin'?)



Anonymous 7:27 PM, July 22, 2008  

ceci n'est pas votre travail original je ne compren pas pourquoi vous ceci etes invite. Vous placez autrement traite votre page.

Greeneyezz 7:46 PM, July 22, 2008  

Cher "Anonyme",

Je ne comprends pas ce que vous voulez dire quand vous dites que ce poste "n'est pas mon travail original»? S’il vous plaît clarifier pour moi, comme toute chose que j'ai posté ici qui est «pas de moi", je ne suis pas un crédit de mon nom, à tous.
Si je sais qui est l'auteur, alors je donne certainement plus de crédit où le crédit est dû.

Il mai aider avec votre propre crédibilité * * si vous:
1) signer votre "véritable" Espace de nom

2) Inclure un site Web et / ou e-mail où vous mai être atteint.

3) Faire un 'drive par «comme ça ..." anonyme'.... reaks de Troll-ish comportement.

~ Greeneyezz

Brunetta 9:42 PM, July 22, 2008  

I am not surprised about the invitation. You have always been creative with words in order to express yourself.
I am proud of you.

"Words are just words and without heart they have no meaning."
~ Chinese proverb

The Supplicant 5:31 PM, July 23, 2008  

I wouldn't worry about anonymous. Who ever it is is just jealous.

BTW you should keep that stock in Duct tape.. I keep wrapping those fingers :-)

Take care and don't worry about stupid comments. Considering the fact that Mike and I are the ones who decide who deserves to be in the Society, YOU have nothing to worry about.

Take care.

Greeneyezz 8:28 PM, July 23, 2008  

Brunetta - awwww, Thanks Sis!
I appreciate the kind words. I really like the quote.
Good Stuff!
"creative with words in order to express yourself."

Is that a kinder way of saying that I use um, 'colorful language' at times??? *winks*

JD - Yeah, I kind of figured. I'm not sure why, but I kinda figured jealosy may have a part in that.
I do find it interesting that the poster went out of their way to post in French, but used a Computer-generated Translation Program to do that. (Words that a Translation Program doesn't recognize, will just automatically use the same word(s) given. Like the poster's use of: 'Original, Invite, and Page'

Also interesting is that the Time-Zone is one hour ahead of my Time-Zone, NOT out of this Country. The poster hit my blog at 7:21 PM, but it was 6:21 PM where the Poster is. An awful lot of energy expended to 'hide' one's tracks

Anyway, Ever see what I did to the last gentleman I knew who found that button and what you did??
Last Man ZZ knew who did that

(Keep wrappin' those fingers. It's a real bitch to remove it from hair.)



John 8:43 PM, July 23, 2008  

Congrats on your invitation!

I. LOVE. POE. : )

The Supplicant 11:46 AM, July 24, 2008  

EGAD! I think I'll continue to wrap those fingers ;-)

And yes, I figured the poster couldn't speak french. The translation was terrible. Either he/she was terribly illiterate or simply a bad speller ... who knows.
Really, I didn't realize the Society was such a prestigious assembly that someone would want to trash another's appointment out of jealousy.

I will officially post a welcome message to you this weekend alright?

Have a great week!


Black_Mamba 3:03 PM, July 24, 2008  

Congrats Greeneyezz!

Welcome to the club :)

Mr. Grudge 10:39 AM, July 25, 2008  

Hi Greeneyezz,
Thank you for the lovely tribute. we are delighted to have you aboard. JD found you, and I think highly of your writing. We are planning big things, and I am happy to have you as part of the future MWs.


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