*Note: A 60-year annual tradition that involved a mysterious visitor leaving three
roses at the grave of writer Edgar Allan Poe on the anniversary of his birthday
ended in January 2010. Curators of the Poe House and Museum are at a loss to
explain who left these gifts and why they stopped. On many occasions people kept
vigils near Poe’s grave during this period that began in 1949, but no one ever saw
someone leaving the roses. In the morning, however, they were always on his
grave. Poe is considered the father of the American short story and
his poem The Raven is one of his best known works.
Once upon a midnight dreary, Poe heard a tapping at his window
While grieving the loss of his young bride, a maiden “angels named Lenore,”
A radiant teen whose long, black hair in gentle breezes would billow,
Tapping at the window ceased, but suddenly it was heard at his door
Upon opening it, a Raven flew in repeating, “Nevermore”
At first he welcomed this odd visitor until Poe whispered, “Lenore”
When he heard his word echo, the strange Raven he began to abhor
He asked if he’d see his bride again and the bird replied, “Nevermore”
Though Poe died in eighteen forty-nine, a mystery evolved much later
A century after his death, his grave had an annual visitor
Roses were left on his birthday by someone whose love appeared greater
Who had left these floral gifts forever stumped the Poe House curator
Perhaps the answer can only be explained by reincarnation
Did the Raven embody the spirit of Poe’s beloved Lenore
If so, perhaps the Raven returned again in a life rotation
In human form she visited to lay roses on the earthen floor
And upon her death in two-thousand nine, she took to the skies once more
A Raven who now joins the flock circling above her late husband’s grave \/
Could it be her spirit remains with Poe, as it did in life before \/ \/ \/
Bringing him in the afterlife all the roses a poet could crave \/ \/ \/ \/
For those who consider this possibility totally absurd
Just consider the fantasies Poe created with the written word
By Carolyn Devonshire
Contest Title: “Among the Dead,” sponsored by Constance LaFrance ~ A Rambling
God is always love
Forever seek the kingdom;
Praise the creator
Keep giving what you can give
Please endure until the end
Protecting the meek ones earth
Watching over us
Helping us to cope with life
Comforted with hope and trust
When you find rhythm
You find your hearts inner core
Celebrate the times
Make them better than before
Reminisce and dance all night
Have a blessed birthday Michael J
Today I knelt for you to pray
May His guiding light shine on you
God’s grace I pray will bring you through
May you have strength on your birthday
With family this holiday
Celebrating with faith like new
God’s grace I pray will bring you through
As your son returns home today
Like a rainbow brightens the day
Continue to wear a smile too
God’s grace I pray will bring you through
Have a blessed birthday Michael J
God’s grace I pray will bring you through
© Joseph, 11/20/07
© All Rights Reserved
Hello Michael, have a blessed birthday and Thanksgiving holiday with your brave
son and family. May God bless each of you always and as a family! The Kyrielle
Sonnet is a French form from the Middle Ages. It has 14 lines (three rhyming
quatrains and a non-rhyming couplet). It has a repeating line or phrase as a
refrain in the last line of each stanza. Each line within the Kyrielle Sonnet has
eight syllables. There are times when a French poem links back to the poem’s
beginning; therefore, a common practice is to combine the first line of the first
quatrain and the refrain in each quatrain as the ending couplet for the poem.
my birthday is approaching and everyone's not sure what to do
but Lord I whish they knew that every day is my birthday with you,
you give me many gifts to use to help others on their way
you always give me the right words to say
you Give us your love unconditionaly and you provide us with all that we need
so every single day is so very special indeed
so it's not important what people say or do
for the Most precious Gift in life will always be you.
Jesus takes away our past and he tells us not to worry about tommorow so just be happy
every day with him by your side every day is our birthday with Jesus in our life his love is
the greatest gift of all that's why everyday is called the PRESENT. he loves us eevry second
of everyday and will neevr turn us away Amen
Dear brother you were only 22
when the good Lord came calling for you
Water had consumed your last breath
Coroners said was a flashback from heroin and meth
I had always looked up to you
but your verbal abuse made me and the others feel blue
black hair hazel eyes man you look so like Elvis
imitating shaking your hips and pelvis
blisters and sores on your young pale face
oh boy how you had fallen from Gods grace
you had a little girl right after you died
Mom always stood by her and your girlfriend's side
first Grandpa then you Dad Mom and brother Bob
for my life now feels like I've been robbed
missed over 30 yrs of wishing you birthday greetings
now at the dinner table there is limited seating
but every year when your birthday comes and passes
I will be there to pick your grave site overgrown grasses
I wonder what you would look like today
or even if your hair would be full of grey
I have forgiven for all you had done to me
for I hold no regrets so your soul can be free
heres wishing you another birthday greeting
as I lay this card and rose at your grave site's seating
Please give Grandpa Dad Mom and brother Bob my love
for someday I will reunited with all of you above
For now I have my own little girl
for she is my own everyday world
I promise to tell her all about you
and how God will turn you into someone pure and new
Rest in peace my loving dear brother
heres another birthday wish I send in passion smothers
In Loving Memory Of
My Brother Gary
10/ 18/ 48
6 / 5 / 71
A cold autumn morning,
new rains have arrived
today not so ordinary
A little girls birthday goes by
she had an accident
she awoke in her bed wet
today she is six, a present she did
A day without the jug cord
would be her birthday wish
Her hope is soon faded,
for there her mother stood,
A birthday beating just begun-
her mothers' way
of a little fun
"you dirty little b!#@h"!
I'm sick of washing your sheets
this will fix you...and fix you good
till you're black and blue
...or till I'll make you bleed"!
Happy Birthday to me...
through aches and tears
I am happy
I survived to date six years
alone in her closet
she'd make this her car
travel to far away happy lands
go shopping for a star
once she bet the jug cord
she collected up the sheets
took her mums' old coal shovel
buried them under the house
darkest corner beneath,
her father gave her sixpence
every time she was dry,
or if she wet, he'd make her wetter
he'd put her in a cold bath
the little girl would trick him,
moving the sheets about
her mother would come in the room
catch the little girl out
the little girl did such things
out of fear she lied
the little girl was in a place
she was trying to survive
she adapted to her father
she adapted to her mother
though difficult it was
it affected everything
looking back the way she was
she changed her life completely
eradicated the fear
her life gets better and better
year after year
her mum and dad to this day
the little girl forgave
she understands the way they were
a woman she has grown
forgiving to her grave
she struggles on her birthday
preferring to enjoy
her spirit accepts what happened
on that day the present
im sorry ive caused you pain.
i thank you for sticking by me through everything.
and not giving up on me. i dnt no what
i would do if you had given up on me.
Im sorry ive lied to your face and you knew it,
but you still loved me the same as before.
so i thank you.
i dont know if i would be here with you if you had given up on me.
im sorry ive broken your trust over and over,
and you still wanna trust me.
i thank you again.
i dont know wat i would have done if you didnt trust me.
im sorry ive done things behind your back,
even though i promised you i would never do them.
im sure you knw but you never said anything.
i wish you would have. it would have saved us all alot of pain
i thank you for never giving up on me.
i dont no how to tell you how much i love you.
mom i love you sooooooo much you wont ever no how much i love u and thank you for everything
Things seems to be very clear,
When actually felt it is unclear,
What really seems to be clear,
May never ever be clear for ever.
Your help for others,
May be to be appreciated,
Or taken as what is called,
to be uncounted.
My question is clear,
Why the help for others,
Is sometime never appreciated,
However it is always delivered.
In response to ethics,
lingers in my mind the answer,
To help others is not to be recognised,
But it is to be called someone,
Who can be respected.
To all, continue to help,
Not to to be appreciated by others,
But to be respected by yourself.
Leaving the last days of August
memories of the sea waves crashing
Tides that leave shells broken to find ~
picnic memories ~
Birthday cakes sparkle ~
sunburns under a sage kissed dessert Moonlight
The Summer reminds us of happier days
scents of coconut oil and lime
reminds us all of what is yet to come ~
The rain comes down hard
crying for all souls lost and left behind
The birds fly in perfect form
reminding all of the September storm
begging for history not to repeat ~
~ In war
only defeat ~
two beams of light straight to the Heavens
stay through the whole month of September
they remind us to listen silently we stand still
For the city lives and breaths left with loss
many questions unanswered remain ~
Leaving behind August
entering Septembers fears ~
I love this poem because it reflects on the past and the coming month in remembrance of history that took place September 11th 2001. In a way it is a oxymoron . from passionate summer nights to the fear embraced in the month coming :)
I was just trying to remember the past
trying to remember the good people
and the bad people,
that i came across on my way,
i want you to know
that you are among the good people
that left a good trace in my life,
once again i just want to say thank you
for passing through my life,
is so short but is wonderful
i want you here forever.
On My Eighty Fifth Birthday
Another Birthday…I’m still alive
Never thought that I’d survive
To the ripe old age of Eighty Five!
But here I am…feisty still
Even though I’m over the hill!
Don’t count me out...Don’t ring that bell
I’m still here and raising hell!
Had a few blimps along the way
But I’m not leaving, I’m here to stay
Still have plans…I’m not done yet
I may do things I may regret
But I’ll have fun doing it
You can bet!
It matters not how old you are
You can dream your dream
Or follow your star
Your flesh may fail you
Your steps may be slow
More and more wrinkles start to show
But there is one thing I surely know
A man isn’t judged by how he looked
Or the size of his fortune or pocketbook
The greatest legacy he leaves behind
Isn’t intelligence or a fertile mind
But the love he gave to his family and friends
A heart full of love always transcends
Fame and fortune in the end
So Happy Birthday again to me
How many more…..?
We’ll just have to see
In the meantime friends
You’ll be hearing from me!
Copyright©2013 Beatrice Boyle
(All rights reserved)
Before we were thought of or time had started,
God put US in His Son’s name..
And each time we pray, you'll see its true,
You can't spell Jesus without including US.
Were a pretty big part of His wonderful name,
For US, He was born;
And His great love for US is the reason He died.
Isn't it thrilling and splendidly grand
He rose from the dead, with US in His plan?
The stones split away, the gold trumpet blew, egospelexpress
And His resurrection was for US.
As JesUS left the earth with His wonderful ascension,
When He felt there was one thing He just had to mention.
"Go into the world and tell them it's true
that I love them all - Just like I love you."
So many people are Christian brothers and sisters,
Don't all the others have a right to know JesUS too?
It all depends on what we do,
He'd like them all to know,
But it all starts with US.
Rev. Samuel Mack, OMS
VISIT US AT; http:paladinnews1.blogspot.com
It’s a work day
And it’s my Birthday
All the fours
A Grade - A
Life’s not designed
To be kind
Never mind – eh!
Time is a great cure
For what I'm not sure
Time is only for this minute
If you live another a cure is in it!
Life is time and living it is the cure
Working is the blood of being secure
Money, money, money needs no friend around
Good health is times only sound!
So, P.S. My friends have the Time of your life!
The Silver Scribe
Walking upon shards of broken glass
with every faltering step I take
Travelling through life at haste
with no compass
steering wheel or brake.
Trying to unravel a mass of tangled knots
Laying in life's gutter wounded
trying to liberate myself
from the putrid stench of obscurity
and not be forgot.
Mind full of unwanted clutter
swirling like a tempest
around and around
Life's din perpetrating the ear drums
with excruciating loud perpetual
Lost in the harsh wilderness
battered by the wind
No one knows the things I've seen
or the places I have been.
Tied to the rocks
lashed and broken by the waves
cursed at birth
wake up from a dream
and another nightmare
another battle to face today.
Who am I?
Am I defined by what is near in sight?
Am I defined by what I have done,
Or am I defined by what I could become?
Perhaps I'm of no use.
To him, or her, or I, nor you.
Or perhaps I'm too misunderstood to be defined,
And it is something like understanding that comes in time.
And if to the world I'm never shown,
Yet in my own light I've grown and grown,
And so I can know no happiness but my own--
The reason for my smile, to you, will forever be unknown.
I do not pray for the world to know my name.
For it and verse; the letters are the same.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads,
I pray his pain my words to keep.
Should his eyes rain on my page,
Better tears than storms of rage.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads.
I pray his pain my words to keep.
And if to the world you're never shown,
Yet in your own light you've grown and grown,
And so you know no happiness but your own.
Let the reason for your smile, to you, only be known.
It’s My Birthday
It’s my birthday… I look out the window there is no one for me owe so, owe so lonely poor me .
It’s my birthday… you surprise me, with a Barber-Q grill with a cooler that chills with a grin we show white grills.
Happy Birthday… it’s my Birthday I am still waiting, it is almost the end of my the day, just waiting on you to wish me a happy birthday which, well make my day.
It’s my birthday…you do not remember that day, can we go out for we can remember that day?
It’s my birthday… I can share it or alone, some share it with a twin, or with a friend and the ones who stay to the ends like a good friend.
It my birthday… its looks like another day to me I just need someone or something to comfort with me a room full of women and with hand full men, a juice in cup, juice in glass, with a sweet lady and grill on cut grass that may make every day feel like my birthday, with a touch of class.
It’s your birthday… it’s your birthday you should all-ways win on your birthday, if do not have a mate you sneak and go on second party date form those who may player hate.
Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday! it comes and go, I see you come through, looking out my window with a hand full company that is what a party really should need, yes it’s sweet, sweet with music and sweet with treats or it must be the money, or food, or brinks, or just me.
Poetry 7/7/12 by author Keith Kadell
Ok let's go up to the fire tower, talk with Ranger Ricky, Heh, heh,. What's so funny Harry. When I was a kid we use to watch the Ranger Ricky Show. He would run Popeye the Sailor cartoons and every week He would say "An a very Hap-py Birthday to the viewers."An a very Hap-py Birthday to Harry, he is 8 years old today.He helps his Mom around the house by doing the dishes and sweeping the floors. Morning Rick, morning Harry, I've been expecting you. I have some bad news, the avalanch started at the top of Demons Bluff. Your chances of finding those kids are slim and even slimmer finding them alive. There is some good news, 7 members of Killington Rescue have joined the search.That's great, the four of us have 2 advantages, we only have to climb 50 feet to the top of the mountain. Demons Bluff is on the otherside, down hill with very little snow
for 3 quarters of a mile. What's the secound reason asked Billy. Harry cooks as well
as he knows this mountain, he is an Ace Rick, stop! Alright, I have 5 thermo-laser poles, should we bring the 5th one. Yep, I'll carry it.
To be Cont.
Author's note: This all took place in less than a 5 minute span if you think we were Dilly-dallying
We were on the road
the road that ended somewhere
something flew right into my eyes
I closed my eyes for a while
but then you were gone
we could have made it
to the end where our dreams
were waiting for us,
but then they were shattered into pieces
somehow you changed,
those pieces were not small enough for you
then you broke them into even smaller pieces
and still all those broken pieces
if it were to be re arranged would
have your name on it
we had our share of fun, laughter
and great memories, that will
walk with me to my deathbed
but now its too late to be reminded it
your face with a stranger
everyday on the electronic screen
I'm still the same way you left me some
four years ago,
and you're not the same person that you were
things have changed,
they've been rearranged
nothing looks familiar anymore
but I still cannot forget those times
and even though I hate you for what you did
how could I forget this day
even if those memories in your head
lay there alone to rust
Happy Birthday to you, old friend
and Happy birthday to us!
We slipped into this crazy world and wailed,
Now destined not to be the last we'd cry.
At parties we would spin and pin the tail
And watch balloons rise high into the sky.
All colored like the bubbles in a dream,
Now floating high and drifting out of view.
Bright faces glowed amidst the candle's gleam.
I wished a special wish that no one knew.
Out in the yard I watch the children play,
A party now three generations hence,
And sang with all to celebrate the day,
Now happy where balloons and wishes went.
I pray for them to see a day like this.
Perhaps my birthday girl will make that wish.
To a special "Birthday Girl"
My birthday skin of 80 year old soul
It wrinkles here and there but I’m pretty
Who would’ve thought I used to be a fool
Had chased abstract things, had left me dizzy
My first hubby said I was a witty
But I kept on searching for compliments
Stupidities were wrapped in arguments
For my second, I never loved him sweet
He did do worst things inside our moments
Had enough after, I’ve stood on my feet
A perfect skin for 80 year old me
Did I say I feel pretty? I did, right?
Aged skin, cracked bones, grey hair; a beauty me
Blurry sight never fails my inner light
Of my self, I had put up selfish fight
It did come when I was 60, oh my!
I thought before 70 I would've died
Never thought of this as a bless before
I stopped offer myself to random guy
Respect my weak body for a year more
Sits on 8th Place
for Cyndi Macmillan Contes 'My Birthday Suit'
The Apple PASTURE
Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture.
Were once was and all well meet.
A pure and dear site.
Where silver reflection cover the still waters that holds the golden
grains of morality and the grazing souls lie young amounce no stars.
Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture
Were winds smell of melon and the trees whisper spring corals in the mellow dark and best of light and time creeps into no tomorrow.
The soul of the ram
The Aries soul, is bold and strong
He does things his own way
Strong willed, ambitious, energetic
You’ll not turn him a way
If he has something on his mind
He needs be listened to
Patience to him is a stranger
He loves all movement too.
He’s good at sport, he needs to win
Losing is not for him
And when he’s angry at some one
It all looks kind of grim
Cause Aries men fight to the end
They have no sense of fear
And that they want to run the show
He make this oh so clear.
He lives his life with passion
He needs to be fulfilled
But his attention moves too quick
And what he’s trying to build
Will disappear like last year’s rain
That’s just the way he is
Our Aries he’s a real mans, man
You can be sure of this.
22 May 2013@1307hrs.
Birthday comes once in a year
It comes every year of your life
A reminder of the day you came to be
A day you truly know nothing about
But a day you are truly celebrated.
My birthday comes on the seventeenth
I was seventeen on the seventeenth
The day was unique because of the numbers
Got a unique birthday gift from my Dad
My birthday gift a special birthday suit.
On my special suit on my special day
I looked pleasant and radiant
My friends all complimenting my suit
As the birthday boy I reveled in encomiums
I exude the aura of a royal prince.
My friends in their exuberance popped drinks
I was bathed in drinks of different tastes
My birthday suit did come to ruins
My birthday suit just for my birthday
Truly a special gift for a special birthday.
As I walk out into the street on
a bright night in my dark brown suit,
blinking neon lights,whistling breeze
with horns of cars buzzing through the night,
I walk into the hotel lounge expecting
to see the creme-de la-creme
in the business world there,
The waiter greets*"Bon jour monsieur" and
directs me into the hall,
The hall is full of people I could barely see
due to the dim blue sparkling light,
Then,*Voila-a bright light surfaced suddenly,
As Vikky walks into the hall,
Shouts of *'Bon anniversaire' echoe through the air,
Today is Vikky`s twenty-fifth birth day;
*"Joyeux anniversaire a' vous,Joyeux anniversaire a' vous,
Joyeux anniversaire,Joyeux anniversaire,Joyeux anniversaire a' vous"
Hip!hip!hip! hurray! with a rapturous applause....
My heart keeps racing,for
I don`t know how to present
my gift to her;
She is my love;my jewel!
but I`m afraid of her *laissez-faire attitude from parents,
She is a french-african,and all her family
members are present here;
I was lost in thought,when
the waiter tapped me,
*'Monsieur 'and present me with a glass
of creme de menthe ;I hurriedly gulp it down,
and summon up courage,
as I feel strong sensation vibrating
through my entire body;my body is on fire!
I approach her slowly...
with my gift pack inside my suit pocket...
Trembling and sweating...
I hope,she says 'Yes!'.
*Bon jour--Good day(morning or afternoon)
*Bon anniversaire--Good/Nice celebration
*creme-de la-creme--the best people or things of their kind
*creme de menthe--a strong sweet alcohol made from MINT
*laissez-faire--policy of allowing private businesses to develop without government control
OR parents giving their children to much freedom.
*"Joyeux anniversaire a' vous,Joyeux anniversaire a 'vous,Joyeux anniversaire,
Joyeux anniversaire,Joyeux anniversaire a 'vous"--Happy birthday to you,happy birthday
to you,happy birthday,happy birthday,happy birthday to you....
CONTEST:"Bi-lingual poetry" sponsored by Debbie Guzzi
You’ve given me another year
365 blank pages
To fill up
I know that your ultimate desire
Is for me to fill them in ways
That are according to your will
And that bring you joy
And that make your divine face
Break out into a smile
Of approval and love
That lights up the universe!
I know that I’ve lost the plot
This last year
I haven’t followed the plan
And I’ve wounded you
With things I’ve said
Things I’ve done
Things you wanted me to do
That I’ve left undone
The things I’ve thought
And yes, Lord
The things I’ve written
My unruly and rebellious heart
Grieving your heart of infinite love
You’ve given me life
All the days I live
Are written in your book
Before one of them came to be
You also know
When I will breathe my last
And rest in your arms
And yet….you grant me life
And you keep this heart beating
And this soul breathing
Giving me chances to get it right
Not the call to obedience
Though that is important
But the giving of my heart
And all that I am
That’s what you want
For me to get right because….
Once that is in place
All the rest follows
I know, Lord
I am grateful
For this gift you’ve granted me
This birthday I’ve celebrated
I’m grateful that you wink
And turn a blind eye
To many of the things I do
For you remember my frame
And know that I am dust
You know…as high as the heavens are above the earth
Your thoughts are than mine
And so…you are patient
And devoted to me
And you long
And you reach out to me
Granting me more days
So that you can recreate me
The way I’m meant to be
To get it right
Because in the end
This life that I live
Is just a breath
I’m a flower
But you want me to be
A forever flower
Resplendid in glory
Blooming for eternity
And that’s why
You’ve granted me
To love you!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
*I've used several Bible texts in this poem. I haven't given references, nor have I used quotation marks because I've paraphrased, but I do want to give due credit to His Word...which is a revelation of who He is! :)
Its no secret that I love to write
I love writing in the morning and at night.
for now the poetry that I am writing is about my life journey
and the people that I knew.
Through doing nathan's 30 day journal challenge
I feel now that my journaling is in balance.
to write my poems so that they rhyme,
I feel that this is the right sign.
so roll up and read what I ahve to say
because in the end I am doing it my way.
From the year of Eighteen ninety,
survives a sad birthday tale.
As told by Private John Burnett,
eighty years old when it was told.
Of needless deaths of Cherokee,
inflicted by relocation.
In Eighteen hundred thirty eight,
President Jackson did decree,
all the Cherokee must move west,
and give up their lands to white men.
Even though he, Junaluska,
had saved Jackson’s life in battle.
On chill morning of October,
six hundred forty five wagons,
took the twelve thousand Indians.
Chief John Ross led all in prayer.
They were literate, Christians all,
with written language, newspaper,
and Constitution like our form.
Morning, November seventeen,
terrible storm of sleet and snow.
No fire to warm the ground below.
Dying of pneumonia from the cold,
a trail of death, four thousand souls.
Heart wrenching grief for those alive.
Eighteen ninety, still near the deed.
Too near for young people to know,
the enormity of the crime.
“Murder is murder however,
or whomever perpetrated.
By the villain skulking at night,
or to martial music by day.”
“Murder is murder and who answers.
Who must explain the streams of blood,
flowing through Indian country.
Who will mourn the four thousand graves,
which silently are trail markers.
I wish I could forget it all.
Thus ends my birthday story here.”
Based on a true record of John Burnett’s story of his life with
the Cherokee and his accompaniment on “The Trail of Tears”.
© May 14 2010 For Deborah’s” theme of western movement” contest
When I was young, I noticed
Many adults stopped aging at 39.
Had something to do with Jack Benny
And trying to hold back time.
Then I noticed something else.
They often spoke of retiring at 65,
And many of them seemed to hope
They might still be alive.
The difference came to 26,
A number I knew very well.
The number of letters in the alphabet
We use to print and write and spell.
Then it occurred to me,
For folks holding youth so dear,
Just add a letter to 39
Each and every year.
39A would be 40,
39Z would be 65.
After that, start letters over again
Or just be glad you’re still alive.
So, you see, it’s easy
To forever be 39.
You may fool yourself & others,
But you can’t fool Father Time.
I do not know?
How do you expect me to be less of a pessimist and more of an optimist. When you’re pessimistic about my optimism.