The Ravens Call
i hear the ravens call
i see the dead mans fall
for once more i hear the ravens crow
of the words nevermore
just like that lonley man
that sat with a book in his hands
stairing at a picture of his lost love lenore
knowing she will never return to his door
as he hears the ravens call of nevermore nevermore
i will sit here by myself nevermore hearing the ravens crow
but signs of that raven will nevermore go
poem by Oi Boi Alec Wade
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The Raven
The raven
Lead vocal: alan parsons, leonard whiting
The clock struck midnight
And through my sleeping
I heard a tapping at my door
I looked but nothing lay in the darkness
And so I turned inside once more
To my amazement
There stood a raven
Whose shadow hung above my door
Then through the silence
It spoke that one word
That I shall hear forever more
Nevermore
Thus quoth the raven, nevermore
And still the raven remains in my room
No matter how much I implore
No words can soothe him
No prayer remove him
And I must hear for evermore
Quoth the raven, nevermore
Thus quoth the raven
Nevermore
song performed by by Alan Parsons Project
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Raven sings
The Raven sings
Can you hear the Raven sing?
I hear it everyday.
What does this Raven bring?
Death in many ways.
Can you hear the Raven sing?
I hear it sing your name.
When you see the Ravens wings,
You will go insane.
Can you hear the Raven sing?
The Ravens here today.
Can you feel your heart sink,
As a loved one is taken away.
poem by Jamie Wright
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With a thirsty voice
With a thirsty voice
And a green heart
I said:
'You're no more my universe.'
' Nevermore! '
Replied the raven
Instead of you.
I said
'You're no more
My blessing and my curse.'
And
'Nevermore! '
Replied the raven
Instead of you.
Broken idols
In midnight taper
Definitely kill the silence
Between our words.
Love with traces of rust
Formed by the trickling tears
Desperately tries to save
Our illusions.
I can eat now
All my walking dreams
And I can close my bleeding wounds,
While the sky
Can swallow its clouds
And the Earth can close
Its burial ground.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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The Story Of Nevermore
now I cast a hypnotic spell
to free a child from her hell
surrender now child fall deep in my spell
just come to me child and all will be well
rise now child in sleep you now come
walk now child thought your scenes stay numb
fall now child in to a peaceful dream
but nothing there is as it seems
even thought child in you dream all is right
really your body walks still throw the night
relax now child let that dream ease your mind
follow now child let my voice be your guild
don’t worry child my intentions are pure
you’ll be happy with me of that I am sure
I’m just so tired of being alone
I want a child all of my own
so sleepwalk now child to the pull of my charm
sleepwalk to me child you’ll be safe in my arms
nevermore child shall you cry out in pain
your old life will be lost but a new one will be gained
sleepwalk to me child you’ll be my daughter soon
find your way to me child by the light of the moon
sleepwalk to me child and I’ll show you my ways
all the things I can show you; you’ll be amazed
sleepwalk to me child your almost here
come to me child soon all will be clear
sleepwalk to me child come meet your new mom
soon the whole world will rest in your palm
I see you now child I have you in sight
I run to you child now all is right
your eyes are dazed child unseeing and blank
I can see you now child what a great daughter you’ll make
come to me child collapse in my arms
come to me child you’re safe now from harm
I hold you now child and cradle you close to my heart
I hum to you child as I carry you throw the dark
were home now dear child far from all you ones knew
were home now dear child only one thing left to do
I made this child a special potion just for you
and with it your life begins anew
drink this now child and let your past slip away
remember not one second not one moment or one day
your eyes close child as I release you from my spell
in conciseness you do not dwell
back in to slumber you fall ever so deep
I love how innocent you look in sleep
a new name you need child to mark your new life
you need a new name as you exist the light
your name is Nevermore My child Raven Nevermore
a name like none ever heard before
you are Raven Nevermore
a young witch of great power to explore
you are Raven Nevermore
my daughter now and evermore
poem by Raven Nevermore
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The Raven Crows
The Raven Crows
by Charles Robert Hice on Thursday, November 22,2012 at 9: 27pm ·
The Raven Crows
The Raven stretches its wings and flies into the gray winter skies while the raven flies it Crows its rawkish voice makes aweful noise
it blows the wind it howls and sounds like a mechanical noise inside the wind
the noise pretends to be the raven as it crows it flies it crows and flies it dives down into the wind and sounds like a noise falling fast and then it sort of dies and falls away not the sound it echoes and it blows
in the middle of the night no one can see the ravens flight but they hear the voice the noise the sound even the wings they flap they glide silent and they hide
The raven seldom crows when it is in its glide it falls and hides no one can see the feathers as it plummets from the sky it moves in a silent fashion
as the raven glides it hides from the eyes of the men it has a sense of reality and a purpose as it glides it looks neither to the left or to the right finally it is satisfied with its destination in its sight the raven crows one final time and plummets like a stone into the night and suddenly a poem is come to earth as Poe hears his famous bird not the crow the rook or the blackbird as it sings but the Raven as it speaks to only him
Nevermore
The Raven Crows
poem by Charles Hice
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Astarte
ACROSS the dripping ridges,
O, look, luxurious night!
She comes, the bright-haired beauty,
My luminous delight!
My luminous delight!
So hush, ye shores, your roar,
That my soul may sleep, forgetting
Dead Love’s wild Nevermore!
Astarte, Syrian sister,
Your face is wet with tears;
I think you know the secret
One heart hath held for years!
One heart hath held for years!
But hide your hapless love,
And my sweet—my Syrian sister,
Dead Love’s wild Nevermore!
Ah, Helen Hope in heaven,
My queen of long ago,
I’ve swooned with adoration,
But could not tell you so,
Or dared not tell you so,
My radiant queen of yore!
And you’ve passed away and left me
Dead Love’s wild Nevermore!
Astarte knoweth, darling,
Of eyes that once did weep,
What time entranced Passion
Hath kissed your lips in sleep;
Hath kissed your lips in sleep;
But now those tears are o’er,
Gone, my saint, with many a moan to
Dead Love’s wild Nevermore!
If I am past all crying,
What thoughts are maddening me,
Of you, my darling, dying
Upon the lone, wide sea,
Upon the lone, wide sea,
Ah! hush, ye shores, your roar,
That my soul may sleep, forgetting
Dead Love’s wild Nevermore!
poem by Henry Kendall
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Possible Peace In An Undying War
A lion and a lamb
Entangled in the likes of war
Headed off to the fiery sea
Marooned on the bloody shore
Battling these dogs of war
A peace within a war
But we haven't the key
To open the opportune door
And on the inside we seek
Salvation for the pain we bore
With an ending so sweet
The whole world under our feet
This ending but a dream
A dream that this war
Will be here nevermore
Nevermore in this life
We shall rapture and fly
Only moments
After we die
poem by Plague Rose
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Mother Mine
Nevermore her sweet caresses
Nevermore her soft blue eyes.
Heaven-blown her ebon tresses,
Smiling lips I idolized.
Sing farewell, farewell forever,
Child of the wind-blown sea,
Tender heart and soul unfettered
Garlands in eternity.
Fleeting soul transcends the sparrows,
Soaring with the snow-white dove;
Sad of soul all my tomorrows,
Grieving for her purest love.
Sweetest voice a loving whisper
On the wings of memory.
Tender canticle of sisters,
Song of all maternity.
Child am I to my dear mother,
Evermore her child to be.
Child is she to yet another,
Sisters in eternity.
Envoi
Nevermore her sweet caresses
Nevermore her soft blue eyes.
Heaven-blown her ebon tresses.
Mother mine I eulogize.
poem by Alicia Patti
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Toothless Woman, Smiling
A toothless woman, smiling.
Flocks of ravens roost there
Remaining in the cavern of her mouth.
When the woman and the ravens are unhappy,
Woman and Raven board an airplane to fly South.
poem by Shane Markie
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From Faust - V. Margaret At Her Spinning-Wheel
MY heart is sad,
My peace is o'er;
I find it never
And nevermore.
When gone is he,
The grave I see;
The world's wide all
Is turned to gall.
Alas, my head
Is well-nigh crazed;
My feeble mind
Is sore amazed.
My heart is sad,
My peace is o'er;
I find it never
And nevermore.
For him from the window
Alone I spy;
For him alone
From home go I.
His lofty step,
His noble form,
His mouth's sweet smile,
His glances warm,
His voice so fraught
With magic bliss,
His hand's soft pressure,
And, ah, his kiss!
My heart is sad,
My peace is o'er;
I find it never
And nevermore.
My bosom yearns
For his form so fair;
Ah, could I clasp him
And hold him there!
My kisses sweet
Should stop his breath,
And 'neath his kisses
I'd sink in death!
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Dead Hope
Hope new born one pleasant morn
Died at even;
Hope dead lives nevermore.
No, not in heaven.
If his shroud were but a cloud
To weep itself away;
Or were he buried underground
To sprout some day!
But dead and gone is dead and gone
Vainly wept upon.
Nought we place above his face
To mark the spot,
But it shows a barren place
In our lot.
Hope has birth no more on earth
Morn or even;
Hope dead lives nevermore,
No, not in heaven.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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To Knock on a Door
Who
Who
Who knocks?
Who knocks at
Who knocks at my door?
Who knocks at my door - not chamber
Who knocks at my door - not chamber door, but door. Who knocks?
Who knocks at my door - not chamber door, but door. Who knocks? Is it a raven - a raven
Who knocks at my door - not chamber door, but door. Who knocks? Is it a raven - a raven named Nevermore that knocks, knocks at my non-chamber door?
Who knocks at my door - not chamber door, but door. Who knocks? Is it a raven - a raven named Nevermore that knocks, knocks at my non-chamber door? ... No, it's just my brother, Josh, that knocks, knocks at my non-chamber door:
It's time for dinner.
poem by Hannah Shier
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Elijah Fed By Ravens
Elijah's example declares,
Whatever distress may betide;
The saints may commit all their cares
To him who will surely provide:
When rain long withheld from the earth
Occasioned a famine of bread;
The prophet, secure from the dearth,
By ravens was constantly fed.
More likely to rob than to feed,
Were ravens who live upon prey;
But when the Lord's people have need,
His goodness will find out a way:
This instance to those may seem strange,
Who know not how faith can prevail;
But sooner all nature shall change,
Than one of God's promises fail.
Nor is it a singular case,
The wonder is often renewed;
And many can say, to his praise,
He sends them by ravens their food:
Thus worldlings, though ravens indeed,
Though greedy and selfish their mind,
If God has a servant to feed,
Against their own wills can be kind.
Thus Satan, that raven unclean,
Who croaks in the ears of the saints;
Compelled by a power unseen,
Administers oft to their wants:
God teaches them how to find food
From all the temptations they feel;
This raven, who thirsts for my blood,
Has helped me to many a meal.
How safe and how happy are they
Who on the good Shepherd rely!
He gives them out strength for their day,
Their wants he will surely supply:
He ravens and lions can tame,
All creatures obey his command;
Then let me rejoice in his name,
And leave all my cares in his hand.
poem by John Newton
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Death
He, born of my girlhood, is dead, while my life is yet young in my heart
Ere the breasts where his baby lips fed have forgotten their softness, we part.
We part. He was mine, he was here, though he travelled by land and by sea,
My son who could trample on fear, my babe who was moulded in me.
As I sat in the darkness, it seemed I could still feel his touch on my head;
He came in the night as I dreamed, and he knelt at the side of my bed;
He murmured the words I had taught when his lips were the lips of a child,
Ere the strength of his arm had been bought and the love that upheld him defiled;
Then my faltering spirit grew bold, and my heart had forgotten its drouth,
And I crooned little songs as of old, till I woke at his kiss on my mouth.
Now waking and sleeping are pain. Nevermore will he kiss, nevermore
Shall I hear his low whistle again at the gate, or his step on the floor,
For to-night he was here while I slept, and this is the end of it all.
Now that welter of darkness has swept us apart, can he come if I call?
Can he come, little chap with the eyes that brought light out of heaven to earth?
Can he come, though the soul of me cries for the joy that I bought by his birth?
I can see but the horror that bids the heart of the mother despair,
The vision that burns on my lids, the face that will always be there,
For he holds out his hands to me, red, and his eyes tell the truth as he stands.
He is dead. He is dead. He is dead. He is dead, with the blood on his hands.
poem by John Le Gay Brereton
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Ravens
The raven is the national bird of Bhutan
It is worn in the royal hat.
The raven is the official bird of the Yukon
And of the city of Yellowknife
King Harald Hardrada carried a raven banner
Called land-waster, a Viking boast
In Sweden the raven is known
As the ghost of a murdered person
In Scotland, a raven's a corbie
Feasting on knights and gallow's meat
The ravens, Hugin and Mugin
Sit upon Odin's shoulders
Their names are Thought and Memory
The raven is the trickster god
Of the Inuit and the Koyukons
The Kingdom of England will fall
If the Tower of London ravens fly away
Hail to the raven,
The Wizard of Skene's familiar
Wise were his ways who had the gift of speech
poem by Sheena Blackhall
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Why Is This Age Worse...?
Why is this age worse than earlier ages?
In a stupor of grief and dread
have we not fingered the foulest wounds
and left them unhealed by our hands?
In the west the falling light still glows,
and the clustered housetops glitter in the sun,
but here Death is already chalking the doors with crosses,
and calling the ravens, and the ravens are flying in.
poem by Anna Akhmatova
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I Do
If you only knew
How much it meant to me
Youd understand
And I would feel
Your love was true
This is all I want
This is all I need
This is all I long for, I do
Just remember this
After a time its through
And nevermore
Will there be days
For me and you
This is all I ask
All I ask of you
Please remember darling, I do
Love you
Days go by so quickly
When youre having fun
But life is never easy
Even in the sun
Please remember this
After a time its through
And nevermore
Will there be days
For me and you
This is all I want
This is all I need
Darling please remember, I do
Love you
If you only knew
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Cravin' Raven
The raven searches for food to consume.
He flies high and low,
Yet none does he find.
He thinks this is not a very good sign.
Soon, food at last, and this the meatless kind.
He has watched from afar and knows
This food is left each day on the step;
Not in the garden for humans to grow.
Swooping down to inspect this food
The milkman is gone making this a stop.
This is a treat beyond compare.
Everyday, the man makes a drop.
The raven pecks, inspects, and thinks
“The bottle is hard; my beak must not break.”
Maybe here, there, the search goes on!
Frustration and turmoil is all this creates!
More pecking he does, more frustrated he is;
This insaneness makes a bird lose his mind.
“There has to be a way.
What must I do to reach the food that is inside? ”
He pecks all around and discovers the top
The lid on the bottle is paper-like thin.
His beak will go through this fine cover,
And the treasure inside he definitely wins.
Each day he returns with knife, fork and spoon.
Taking part in this feast, a rare delicacy.
“No more searching for food must I do,
Now I can drink to fill my small belly.”
Generously, he invites friends to the feast
They will enjoy this food he is savin’.
I must not be a pig and eat all for myself.
I’ll invite friends to savor this food I’m cravin.’
The man of the house becomes aware of his loss
Loudly proclaiming no more food, and all-out war
To quote a phrase from the poet, Edgar Alan Poe
Nevermore……..Nevermore……….Nevermore!
poem by Diane Wright
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The raven of Edgar Poe
We need only time
To undergo metamorphosis....
The girl and the old woman
Keeping an eye on each other;
The raven screaming, solemnly:
-Nevermore!
O, the raven of Edgar Poe,
Which had guessed
Their secret...
poem by Marieta Maglas
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The Bus to Nevermore
The snow lay deep on the countryside
When they left to catch the bus,
Heading out to Milwaukee, first
They left New York in their dust,
The guys were happy and laughing then
To be off on the winter tour,
The pickers picked and the jokers joked
On the bus to Nevermore.
They'd had a couple of hits or three
And they'd topped the charts with one,
The kids were mad for their rock 'n roll
At each auditorium,
The towns they travelled were tiny towns
But the audiences roared,
They rocked Kenosha, then headed out
On the bus to Nevermore.
The heater failed and the bus, it froze
And the smiles then died away,
They huddled up in the cold and dark
But they played each town by day,
They switched their buses, more than once
When the diesel ceased its roar,
But every bus in its turn was just
The bus to Nevermore.
The bus broke down on a lonely road
As the snow fell through the night,
The fields were a winter wonderland
But the cold began to bite,
By the time that a roving patrolman
Found the bus, they were more than sore,
The drummer suffered from frostbite
On the bus to Nevermore.
The tour was running in circles
From Wisconsin to Iowa,
To Minnesota and back again
But nobody seemed to care,
Except the fellows that rode the bus,
Each day they cursed and swore,
'This bus is part of the Devil's fleet!
The bus to Nevermore.'
Tired and dirty and cold they drove
To Appleton, Green Bay,
Then overnight they had huddled up
For the trip to Clear Lake,
They played the show in their crumpled clothes
While they thought of the bus's roar,
But three decided they'd had enough
Of the bus to Nevermore.
They grabbed a lift to the airport there,
And hired a private plane,
To fly them to Minnesota in
The snow, or the driving rain,
They didn't care, they were near despair
With the cold in the bus, and more,
They could fly ahead, not having the dread
Of the bus to Nevermore.
They laughed at the Mason City field
As the plane took off in the night,
'We're gonna be rich, and cut some discs
When this tour is over - Right? '
They looked back down at the bus on the ground
Where they'd left it, then they swore,
They'd never go back on that bus again,
The bus to Nevermore.
The plane was found in a farmer's field
At daylight, in the corn,
Their bodies lay in the snow that day
And left the world to mourn,
He'd said it well in that final cut
When he sang it, once before,
To our Lonesome Tears as he said, 'I guess
It don't matter anymore.'
20 February 2009
(50th Anniversary of the plane crash that killed
Buddy Holly, Richie Valens and the Big Bopper,
3 February 1959) .
poem by David Lewis Paget
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