Saturday, October 17, 2009
THE RAVEN, Part IV (Four)...Suddenly there came another rapping,/ A sudden Spirit slowly tapping,/ Tapping out his now settled score./ Suddenly ther came a violent rapping As an aveng-ed Spirit suddenly tapping -- Rapping, rapping at his residence door./ As the Raven's wings started flapping, The aveng-ed Spirit's violent tapping, Suddenly grew, rapping, rapping at my neighbor's door!/ Grew louder, stronger now than ever before! As the Raven shrieked, Here lies the Angel of Forgotten Lore. Only this and nothing more!/ And the Raven, never flitting Still is sitting, still is sitting/ On the Christmas wreath just above my bedroom door; And her eyes have all the seeming Of an angel's who is dreaming/ And the starlight over her streaming/ Throws a shadow on the floor. And my soul from out that shadow lies floating on the floor -- Shall be lifted forevermore! -- By Denise Hickey, a re-rendering of "The Raven" by Edgar Allen Poe. (Who is she that looketh forth as the morning, fair as the moon, clear as the sun, and terrible as an army with banners? -- Song of Solomon 6:10)
THE RAVEN, Pt. III...But the Raven still beguiling/ All my fancy into smiling/ Straight I brought a cushioned seat/ In front of bird and wreath and door/ Then upon the velvet sinking/ I betoook myself to sinking, linking/ Fancy unto fancy, Thinking what this ominous bird of yore -- / What this slim, gainly, ghastly, tall and ominous bird of yore/ Meant in chirping "Forgotten Lore."/ If I were you, I'd go tomorrow/ Back to Waterford Library Whose books you sought to borrow/ And get busy, busy tapping/ Tapping on the computer your score./ A score of a recent citizen/ A recent, decent citizen/ Someone who once lived there before. Only this and nothing more./ Once upon a midday dreary, While he pondered weak and weary/ Over his yet unbroken score/ Of victory after victory Of wreaking havoc on some citizens,/ Some recent, decent citizens,/ There came a rapping As of someone gentling tapping/ Tapping on the computer his unbroken score./ There came a rapping/ As of someone gently tapping, Tapping on the computer His unbroken score. Only this and nothing more./ Said the Raven, "If I were you, I'd go tomorrow/ Back to New London Public Library/ Whose books you sought to borrow/ And settle this forgotten score. Only this and nothing more./ Once upon a midday dreary, While I pondered weak and weary/ Over many a forgotten, unsettled score/ Slowly there came a rapping/ As of someone gently tapping/ Tapping on the computer his unsettled score./ Suddenly, there came a rapping, As of someone gently, gently tapping/ Tapping on the computer this unsettled score./ A uniform came rapping/ Rapping at his door./ A uniform came suddenly rapping, rapping at his residence door. Only this and nothing more./
THE RAVEN, Pt. II...Open here, I flung the shutter When, with many a friendly flutter, In there stepped a stately Raven/ Of friendly days of yore. Not the least obeisance made she; Not a minute stopped or stayed she But with mien of matronly lady/ Perched above my bedroom door Perched upon my wreath of Christmas Just above my bedroom door -- Perched and sat and nothing more./ Then this lovely bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling By the grave and stern decorum Of the countenance she wore -- "Though your face be feathered and clean-shaven -- You are surely no raven/ No ghastly, grim or ancient Raven/ Wandering from the New London shore. Tell me what your real name is -- On tonight's New London shore." Quoth the Raven: "the Angel of Forgotten Lore. Someone you once knew before."/ Much I marvelled this matronly fowl to hear such discourse so plainly, Though her body little meaning, little resemblance bore./ For we cannot help agreeing That no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing Bird above her bedroom door./ Bird or beast upon the Christmas wreath With such name as "Angel of Forgotten Lore."/ But the Raven, sitting lonely/ On the Christmas wreath spoke only/ That one word as if her soul in that one word she did outpour./ Nothing farther then she offered -- Not a feather then she fluttered -- Till I scarcely more than muttered "Other friends have flown before -- On the morrow, she 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," I said, "what she utters is her 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 Forgotten -- forgotten lore.
at long last, on a cold dreary October day, I present to you -- doncha love this weather? "The Raven," a re-rendering of the poem by Edgar Allen Poe, by Denise Hickey. THE RAVEN...Once upon a midday dreary, While I pondered weak and weary/ Over a quaint and curious shopping list for the grocery store -- While I added, nearly talking; Suddenly there came a walking,/As of someone gently stalking, Stalking past my hallway door./"Tis some next door neighbor," I muttered, "Walking past my hallway door. Only this and nothing more."/Ah, distinctly, I remember It was in the bleak December/ And I saw my best friend's Spirit Guarding my hallway door./ Eagerly, I wished for tomorrow -- To return to Groton Library books I'd sought to borrow From these books, surcease of sorrow/ Sorrow for forgotten lore. For the rare and radiant Angel of Forgotten Lore -- Nameless here forevermore./ And the silken, sad, uncertain Rustling of my white bedroom curtain Thrilled me, filled me with fantastic terrors often felt before./ So that now, to still the beat of my heart, I stood repeating/ "Tis some next door neighbor entreating/ Entrance at my hallway door -- This it is and nothing more."/ Presently, my soul grew stronger; Hesitating then no longer,/ "Barracudas," said I, "Truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is you've been talking." And so gently he came walking, and so faintly he came stalking;/ Stalking past my hallway door. That I scarce was sure I heard him/ Here I opened wide the door. There he stood and nothing more./ Deep into that dark soul staring, Long I stood there worrying, fearing; Doubting, thinking thoughts/ No neighbor ever dared to think before. But the words lay unspoken and the stillness gave no token/ And the only word there spoken/ Was the "Angel of Forgotten Lore!" Merely this and nothing more./ Back into my chamber turning/ My temper within me burning/ Soon again I heard a stalking, Somewhat louder than before. "Surely," said I, "Surely that is something at my window lattice; Let me see then what there at is, and this mystery explore -- Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore -- / Tis the wind and nothing more!"/ ...
Thursday, October 15, 2009
VENGEANCE -- New London, CT. Back with more notes from "the underground." VOCAB: (Once a teacher, always a teacher!) (1) covert: adj. [ME, fr. OF, pp of couvrir to cover] 1: not openly shown, engaged in, or avowed: VEILED 2: covered over: SHELTERED. (2) covert: n. 1a: hiding place: SHELTER b: a thicket offering cover for game c: a masking or concealing device. (3) avenge: [ME avengen, prob. fr. a- (as in abaten to abate) + vengen, to avenge, fr. OF vengier - more at VENGEANCE] 1: to take vengeance for or on behalf of 2: to exact satisfaction for (a wrong) by punishing the wrongdoer -- avenger. syn AVENGE, REVENGE. Shared meaning element: to punish one who has wronged oneself or another...."I don't want any trouble with the police." "I don't know anything." Nobody wants to get involved. ("You have to deal with that.") ("I'm not responsible.") ("I don't know anything.")
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
December 13, 2008...DH...57 WR Rd., New London, CT 06320...SC/President, BOD/WG/New London, CT 06320/ -- Dear Ms C: Thank you for talking with me Friday evening, concerning my complaints here at WG. I am writing this letter so you and the BOD can address these complaints I have about the behavior of some of the residents here. I have lived at 57 WG Rd. since January 2000. I was friends with my landlord, ED, for two years before I became his tenant. For the past eight years since I have lived here, I have had trouble finding and keeping gainful employment. I made the mistake of sharing this information with some residents at the pool in summer 2001. I did have to quit two jobs, both Shop Rite and West Side Middle School due to serious health problems in 2006: Chronic Fatigue Syndrome/ Diabetes Type II/ Surgery for fibroids in uterus/ Major Depression/ Stress of the workplace. I support myself on Social Security Disability since July 2002. I pay rent and all of my own bills. ED is my friend but he has Schizophrenia and his personality changed drastically when his uncle died in 2004. This has been stressful for me but I know that E wants me to have a nice place to live and to take care of myself.I worry about my future and struggle to get my health back with a strict diet and outdoor excercise every day. The residents in my building seem to be very nosy about my relationship with E, which is none of their business and which I don't wish to share. They also seem to be very nosy about whether I work or what I do during the day, wish I don't wish to share. I feel that two residents, M and WM have helped to spread gossip about my personal situation and finances. WM has made me very uncomfortable in the past year, as he patrols the halls all day long, and I feel he subtly tries to get any information he can about my personal business. He is a big man with a heavy footstep. He often slams the doors very hard. For the past year, WM has made me very uncomfortable as I leave in my car in the morning, whether it is to go for coffee, lunch at the cafeteria, the library, groceries, etc. For a while, he was glaring at me as I left in the morning. Then, when I would come home in the afternoon, he started walking aggressively toward me, like he wanted to chase me away. M has said, "You don't belong here. This is for seniors." Over the summer, W was ogling me, leering at me, making scary faces at me as I would walk from my car to the hallway and stairwell area. I feel very uncomfortable, being alone in this isolated area. I feel he is trying to intimidate me for some reason. My best friend Paula passed away, a little over a year ago. My father is in a nursing home, due to the effects of Multiple Sclerosis. I would like to be left alone by the residents of WG, so I can take care of my health. I have the right to live here and I want to be left alone. DH... January 7, 2009 /WG CONDOMINIUM ASSOCIATION, INC./ Board of Directors -- Dear Ms. Hickey, The board has received your letter of 12/11/2008. We reviewed your concerns. The board feels this is a personal conflict between you and Mr. and Mrs. M. -- WG Board of Directors......"You have to deal with that." "I'm not responsible." "I don't know anything." (There is only ONE thing left to do. GET BUSY! I MUST carry on! Land ho!!!...* * * :)
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
"Better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all." Just in time for the holidays, another story about True Love -- albeit tragic. M M1 TIC 10/11/09 BRIGHT STAR Mystic Vill 3 02:10 1 $7.00 Two unknowns, Abbie Cornish (Australia) and Ben Whishaw (Great Britain) come together for the first time to make this movie -- the story of tender and enduring romance -- "Bright Star." Ironically, the movie's subject, a bright star himself, 19th century poet John Keats -- shines brightest after his death. Deemed England's greatest Romantic poet of the 19th century. Screenplay by Director Jane Campion. Based upon "The Biography of John Keats" by Andrew Motion (1997). It's the story of two vastly different individuals, one with a passion for writing poetry and the other, for fashion and dress-making, dancing and flirting. They fall in love against the backdrop of the unhurried pace of daily life in the 19th century English countryside. You can always hear the birds singing. Nothing but death can separate them despite the interference of friends, neighbors and family. (Are we still in the nineteenth century???) John Keats dies of tuberculosis at age 25. Fanny Brawne never removed her engagement ring. THE END...a few sniffles but not from me. I only cry at sad movies. (I've got to see this movie. I've got to see it; I've got to see it. Are we going? We're going; aren't we? If we don't go, I'm going to be mad!!!...* * * :)
NOBEL LIT PRIZE GOES TO LITTLE KNOWN EUROPEAN AUTHOR By Hillel Italie, AP National Writer (Where IS the Associated Press anyway???) The judges, apparently, could not help themselves. Just two days after a Nobel Prize official worried the literature committee was too "Eurocentric," the winner for 2009 was Herta Mueller, a Romanian born writer once censored in her native country. It's no conspiracy, said permanent secretary Peter Englund...Mueller, whose Nobel was seen as a nod to the 20th anniversary of communism's collapse, was persecuted in her native Romania for her critical depiction of life behind the Iron Curtain. She was cited by the committee for "the concentration of poetry and the frankness of prose" in such novels as "The Land of Green Plums," which describe "the landscape of the dispossessed." Beyond the judges' praise, she will receive $1.4 million in prize money.