The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe

 The following is one of my favorite poems:  The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe


                                                                                                                                                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 named 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 mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness 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 blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -

Bird or beast above 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 sad soul 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 lamp-light gloated o'er,

But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!



Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has 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 named Lenore -

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'

Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'



`Be that word our sign of 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 lamp-light 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!

Science Fiction Story- "Fetch"

The following is a science fiction story that I just wrote. It is called "Fetch".                                                                                     
Tom threw the tennis ball deep into the woods and watched his Black Lab Ralph chase after it. With Ralph, there was no need to shout the traditional "fetch."

 Ralph returned a few moments later, but instead of the tennis ball Ralph held a short metallic,shaft in his mouth. Tom took the object from Ralph's jaws and examined it. The object was about a foot long and about 4 inches around. Tom noticed a slight glow to the object and a vibration was noticeable.

As Tom was examining the object, a panel opened up at one end where only smooth metal had been before.The panel contained several rows of buttons with some sort of writing beneath each button. Tom put the shaft on the grass and the panel receded. There was no trace that the panel had ever been there.Tom picked up the object  and the panel opened again.

Cautiously, Tom pressed one of the buttons. A colored, three-dimensional map of a solar-system appeared above the object. Tom pressed another button and a map of a different solar system appeared.

This kind of technology was way beyond anything Tom had ever heard of and he decided to take the object to the police. Tom let Ralph jump in the  car first and then he sat down and turned the ignition key. Nothing happened. Suddenly, a very tall man with a strange-looking creature on a leash approached.

The stranger put forth his hand and the metallic object floated up and rested on his palm. "My dog has been searching for his stick on the red planet for several days."Apparently, some kind of technical problem sent it to your world."The man said in a pleasant musical tone. The stranger pressed a button on the "stick" and a map of earth's solar system appeared. The tall man touched the image of Jupiter and the object vanished. A moment later,the stranger pressed several buttons  on his arm and he and his dog disappeared as well.




                              

Royalty

I don't understand Americans that are interested in  the activities of european royals. One of the smartest things that the American founding fathers did was to leave all that monarchy nonsense back in europe. There is nothing more anti-American then a system in which certain people  inherit power just because they belong to a particular family or marry the right person.

Book Review- A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens

I suppose that spring is an odd time to be reading "A Christmas Carol" by Charles Dickens, but such a wonderful novel should not be confined to the Christmas season. A Christmas Carol is one of the most successful novels of all time. It has been made into films,plays, and even a musical. The characters have become part of the cultural lexicon.

The actual novel is only 68 pages long and it is well worth spending a few hours reading it, or better yet  read A Christmas Carol to your kids.

Help, I've fallen

This morning, I was walking along the shore when I slipped on a rock and fell. I hurt my hand and have a small lump on my head, but otherwise I am ok. All those years of walking in the mountains and I rarely fell. Who knew that walking on the beach could be so hazardous.

All Quiet On The Western Front

I recently re-read one of my favorite novels, "All Quiet On The Western Front" by Erich Maria Remarque and was reminded of the power of the book. The following is a passage from the book that everyone should read. " Gradually a few of us venture to stand up. And I am given crutches to hobble around on. But I do not make much use of them; I cannot bear Albert's gaze as I move about the room. His eyes always follow me with such a strange look. So I sometimes escape to the corridor;-there I can move about more freely.

On the next floor below are the abdominal and spine  cases, head wounds and double amputations. On the right side of the wing are the jaw wounds, gas cases,nose,ear,and neck wounds. On the left the blind and the lung wounds,pelvis wounds, wounds in the joints,wounds in the testicles,wounds in the intestines. Here a man realizes for the first time how many places that a man can get hit.

 Two fellows die of tetanus. Their skin turns pale, their limbs stiffen,at last only their eyes live- stubbornly. Many of the wounded have their shattered limbs hanging free in the air from a gallows; underneath the wound a basin is placed into which the pus drips. Every two or three hours the vessel is emptied. Other men lie in stretching bandages with heavy weights hanging from the end of the bed. I see intestine wounds that are constantly full of excreta. The surgeons clerk shows me X-ray photographs of completely smashed hip-bones,knees,and shoulders.

A man cannot realize that above such shattered bodies there are still human faces in which life goes its daily round. And this is only one hospital,one single station; there are hundreds of thousands in Germany, hundreds of thousands in France, hundreds of thousands in Russia. How senseless is everything that can be written,done,or thought,when such things are possible. It must all be kies and of no account when the culture of of a thousand years could not prevent this stream of blood being poured out,these torture-chambers in their hundreds of thousands. A hospital alone shows what war is."

Salvation Army

http://www.salvationarmyusa.org/   A couple of weeks ago, I was in a very tough situation and the Salvation Army center in downtown Bremerton really helped me. For those who are able, please consider making a donation to the Salvation Army. Thank you


                      Craig Zimmerman

Book Review- The Ox-Bow Incident

I previously reviewed the film version of the novel  "The Ox-Bow Incident" it seems only fitting that I also review the novel that the film is based on.  The Ox-Bow Incident by Walter Van Tilburg Clark is about mob justice in the old west, but it could just as well be set in any time period or location.

 Because The Ox-Bow Incident was first published in 1940 many people assumed that the author was thinking of fascism in europe and Japan, but the truth is, Mr. Clark was thinking of America.

The United States has a long and shameful history of lynching and mob rule. What comes to my mind was the rush to go to war with Iraq after 9-11. The American people supported an invasion of Iraq based on very thin evidence.

For some reason, humans are inclined to choose violence first even when there are other alternatives.

America and Class

Years ago, I read a short story about a young girl who leaves home for the first time in order to become a servant girl. The story was written in the early 20th century when knowing ones station in life was quite important and if you didn't know your place in society you would be quickly reminded of it. The moral of the story was that the servant girl should have realized that her mission in life was to serve the wealthy class and that  she should be satisfied with it.



One might think that class and position are relics from another age, but I disagree. Since the financial collapse of three years ago, it is the middle and working class that has suffered the most by far. The bankers and wealthy investors lobbied their friends in congress to provide a safe landing and to make sure that no one was prosecuted.



Now Americans are told by this same investor class that the debt is too high and that everyone must "sacrifice". I have no doubt that there will be sacrifice, but it will not be borne by everyone. The wealthy class will not have to sacrifice a damn thing.

Visit Anaconda

http://www.discoveranaconda.com/   Anaconda is a small town in western Montana where my mother was born and I have come to love it. Anaconda was born out of the copper mining boom in Montana in the 1800s. Since the copper industry has waned, Anaconda has suffered economically, but the town is still a terrific place to visit with friendly people, vintage buildings and historical sites, plenty of local recreation ,and the magnificent Rocky mountains.

Strange Encounter

This morning, I was sitting on a bench at the Bremerton marina when a young man came up to me and asked if I was in the zombie movie. With him was a young woman in full zombie make-up. I answered "no."  I think I understand what Dan Rather must have felt when he was asked by a stranger "Kenneth, what is the frequency?"

http://www.krl.org/     For those visiting the Seattle-Bremerton area be sure to check out the  beautiful downtown Bremerton public library at 612 fifth st. 98337. The library was designed by architects Charles V. Rueger and Frank B. Smith and was completed in 1938. The library is a reminder that even in hard times of long ago some  public officials cared about design and art.

Missing The Mountains

I have only been away from Greenwater for a few weeks, but I already miss the mountains,the wildlife, the clean air,and especially the quiet.

I take a walk through Bremerton every day and the pollution and constant noise makes me sick. Why do people feel the need to subject everyone else to their taste in music?

I hope to return to the mountains as soon as possible.

New Book Recommendation

Sarah Jio is a Seattle writer who has written her first book. "The Violets Of March" is a mystery that is set in the World War Two era and the present. The events of the novel take place on Bainbridge Island which is a community located in the Puget Sound not far from Seattle. Please give "The Violets Of March" a try. Thanks

                               Craig Zimmerman

Earth Day

When I was a kid, me and my friends honored the newly begun Earth Day by walking to school instead of taking the bus.Today it seems like such a futile gesture,but at the time (the early 1970s) in our youthful idealism we thought that we were actually accomplishing something. The trail we used to get to school was about two miles long and wound entirely through a forest.The trail and the forest are now  long gone, replaced by houses, a shopping center, and little league baseball fields.

  Hopefully, new generations are much more aware of environmental issues then we were 40 years ago, but I see no reversal in the trend of bulldozing natural lands to make more room for more people.

Book Review- Conagher by Louis L'amour

One doesn't often associate a love story with western novels, but Louis L'amour's "Conagher" contains a beautiful love story as well as plenty of traditional action. "Conn" Conagher is a hard-bitten cow hand approaching middle age and searching for something beyond drifting from one ranching job to another.

 By chance, Conn encounters Evie Teale and her two children who are attempting to homestead a ranch in the wilderness  Mrs. Teale's  husband Jacob has disappeared and is presumed dead. Conn finds a job with an aging ranch owner and discovers that a gang of rustlers is gradually stealing the old mans cattle. While taking on the gang of rustlers Conn finds mysterious notes tied to drifting tumbleweeds. The notes speak of the same loneliness that Conn is feeling and he searches for the author of the notes unaware that he already knows her.

   I first read Conagher when I was a teenager and it remains one of my favorite books. At some point in everyones life we are looking for a place to call home and if we are very blessed we find it.

Donald Trump

Every US presidential election, there are some Americans that are snared into the idea that a business person would make a great president.The latest example of this logic is of course Donald Trump.

The reasoning goes that since Mr. Trump can run a casino then he can also run the United States.A good president must know a great many things, and business is certainly one of them, but it is not the only thing.Does Mr. Trump have any knowledge of diplomacy? education? healthcare? defense and war? I recall that during the first presidential campaign for George W. Bush, one of the campaign selling points was that Mr. Bush was a successful business man. We all know how that turned out.

A Tribute To Mrs. Flory

 When I was in elementary school, Mrs. Flory had the thankless job of playground monitor durinng recess. I didn't know very much about Mrs. Flory, but I suspect that her own children had grown and she volunteered at the elementary school to keep busy. I can't imagine that supervising a school of ungrateful kids could be rewarding and yet Mrs. Flory was there year after year. I heard later that Mrs. Flory died of heart failure during the 1980s. I don't know how a life is to be measured, but Gladys Flory kept a lot of kids safe and that should count for something.

New City

I have recently moved to the city of Bremerton, Washington. Bremerton is located in the south Puget Sound region about 20 miles west of Seattle. Bremerton's economy revolves around a naval base and naval shipyard.  Several massive aircraft carriers can be seen anchored near the shipyard waiting for repair and refitting.

Book Review- Against Medical Advice

I am currently reading the non-fiction book "Against Medical Advice" by James Patterson and Hal Friedman. Hal Friedman's son Cory has been afflicted with Tourette's Syndrome and other compulsive  disorders for most of his life.  Victims of Tourette's Syndrome exhibit odd body movements, tics, and occasionally vocal outbursts. "Against Medical Advice" is told from Cory's point of view. Cory's parents and doctors try a number of different medications, but nothing seems to have any lasting  success. Some of the drugs have horrific side effects.Meanwhile, Cory has few friends and is an outcast in school.

   Tourette's Syndrome has recieved a great deal of publicity over the past few decades, but I suspect it is still misunderstood by the general public. "Against Medical Advice" might help to dispel some of the myths about Tourette's.