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This is a poem a dear friend sent to me. I used to have it posted on my profile but i decided to put it here that way my profile is not to long. I hope you enjoy this poem as much as me.





Black Rose



Written by



Bonnie Nixon





Out of the darkness, and into the light,

my mind wanders to you this night.

I reach out a hand, to give you the black rose,

why you ask, but no one knows.



They say your veins run deep, but they

will never know all the secrets you keep.

You act as though you do not care,

as everyone around you stops to stare.



You sit and feel the petels of the black rose,

a silent tear runs down your nose.

All the pain of the past comes to light,

and you shudder deep inside of fright.



You close your eyes and pray,

that you will never have to remember that day.

As you stare deep into the center of the

black rose, your mind opens up

and you know...........



Dreams are nothing more then figments of your imagination.

COMMENTS

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cadrewolf
18:14 Dec 30 2008

Excellent

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TheVampyreNico
07:28 Jan 02 2009

That was beautiful poem

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POST COMMENT

Thy soul shall find itself alone

'Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone;

Not one, of all the crowd, to pry

Into thine hour of secrecy.



Be silent in that solitude,

Which is not loneliness- for then

The spirits of the dead, who stood

In life before thee, are again

In death around thee, and their will

Shall overshadow thee; be still.



The night, though clear, shall frown,

And the stars shall not look down

From their high thrones in the Heaven

With light like hope to mortals given,

But their red orbs, without beam,

To thy weariness shall seem

As a burning and a fever

Which would cling to thee for ever.



Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish,

Now are visions ne'er to vanish;

From thy spirit shall they pass

No more, like dew-drop from the grass.



The breeze, the breath of God, is still,

And the mist upon the hill

Shadowy, shadowy, yet unbroken,

Is a symbol and a token.

How it hangs upon the trees,

A mystery of mysteries!

COMMENTS

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TheVampyreNico
07:32 Jan 02 2009

I love it for it moves me and touches one soul deep from within.

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POST COMMENT

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!

COMMENTS

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DMC
05:11 Jan 02 2009

A true classic poem here I like it.

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TheVampyreNico
07:42 Jan 02 2009

Indeed a old poem but always good to here it repeated again and not forgotten. Truely lovely poem my dear lady.

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POST COMMENT

In the greenest of our valleys

By good angels tenanted,

Once a fair and stately palace-

Radiant palace- reared its head.

In the monarch Thought's dominion-

It stood there!

Never seraph spread a pinion

Over fabric half so fair!



Banners yellow, glorious, golden,

On its roof did float and flow,

(This- all this- was in the olden

Time long ago,)

And every gentle air that dallied,

In that sweet day,

Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,

A winged odor went away.



Wanderers in that happy valley,

Through two luminous windows, saw

Spirits moving musically,

To a lute's well-tuned law,

Round about a throne where, sitting

(Porphyrogene!)

In state his glory well-befitting,

The ruler of the realm was seen.



And all with pearl and ruby glowing

Was the fair palace door,

Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing,

And sparkling evermore,

A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty

Was but to sing,

In voices of surpassing beauty,

The wit and wisdom of their king.



But evil things, in robes of sorrow,

Assailed the monarch's high estate.

(Ah, let us mourn!- for never morrow

Shall dawn upon him desolate!)

And round about his home the glory

That blushed and bloomed,

Is but a dim-remembered story

Of the old time entombed.



And travellers, now, within that valley,

Through the red-litten windows see

Vast forms, that move fantastically

To a discordant melody,

While, like a ghastly rapid river,

Through the pale door

A hideous throng rush out forever

And laugh- but smile no more.

Death embraced me in its loving grip,

But it left me just enough room to slip,

Instead of the cold giving me a kiss,

It let me fall into the abyss,

Lost and confused unknowing what to do,

Tripping and falling trying to be my own sleuth,

Hurt, crying, and abandoned I wondered,

For an eternity I slumbered,

Waiting and hoping, depressed and lonely,

Reaching out for someone, only finding no one,

Consuming myself in madness,

Quickly my mind begins to pattern,

Seeking the light but only finding truth,

My faith being the only clue,

One face I see, two hands I felt,

Saved from my madness,

Delivered to myself,

I wake to see the world gone to hell,

But I myself somehow prevail,

I stand in the garden looking upon the destruction,

And I shed but a tear, for they all live my fear.



Poet: Christopher Graham Micheal

Into the forest, between night and day.

Gliding through shadows of misty gray.

Eyes search for weakened ones.

Life ends and now becomes...



RAVENS CLAW!

RAVENS CLAW!



Alone, forsaken, and lead astray.

Now becomes easy prey.

Eyes search for weakened ones.

Fathers, mothers, sisters, sons.



RAVENS CLAW!

RAVENS CLAW!



Never strong does he pick.

Only tired, only sick.

Eyes search for weakened ones.

Tear at your flesh, gnaw the bones.



RAVENS CLAW!

RAVENS CLAW!



Be wary and tread carefully.

Do only what you must and be.

Eyes search for weakened ones.

Into the night, away from the sun's.



RAVENS CLAW!

RAVENS CLAW!



Poet: Dawn Louise Nash