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 mortal 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 blessed 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 farther 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 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 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 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!
freedom is a whisper a beckoning beyond my heart it cries to see hands upon me flee glimmering mists of oceans beaming prism light carry me in the wind lift me out of sight my body is an illusion it lays beneath me still the world can’t break your heart yet so beautifully will
Many people think of dragons as winged serpents breathing fire and then eating the ashes, but the ancient texts only ever to dragons as huge reptiles. It was only in the later texts that ‘dragon’ would be replaced by the word ‘dinosaur’. Evolutionists would have you believe that these creatures are extinct and that they died before man even came to be, but the question is rather a simple one: If so, then why…? Why do we still see these magnificent creatures? Why do they wash up dead on our shores? Why do people in certain parts of the U.S. see Pterodactyls? And what is going on in the Congo? Why do certain villages in Kenya bury their dead deeper than usual?
All these questions and many more are raised by people all over the world. You’re all probably thinking, “If dinosaurs (dragons) are real, then why aren’t UFOs?” Well, I can’t account for UFOs, but I can say that I have never had the honour of seeing a dragon up close. From those who have, it appears as normal as air in our lungs. Then, there’s all the evidence of man and dinosaurs living side-by-side. In China, they have records of an emperor who used dragons to pull his chariots on special occasions. There are even records of a family in China that raised them for their blood and body parts to be used as medicine. Explorers and great ancient philosophers from all over the world write of dragons existing.
Alexander the Great on his explorations in India said that many of his men were frightened off by great dragons living in caves. Alexander, however, was not the only explorer to have encountered these creatures. In the Anglo-Saxon Chronicles recorded in 793 A.D. they are quoted as saying that a terrible warning came over the Northumbrians of “great flashes of light across the sky, and whirlwinds, and fire breathing dragons.” In France they have records of a water dragon coming out of the water of the Seine River. This dragon appeared harmless as it did not breathe fire, but soon after it laid waste to parts of France. This dragon was hunted down, brought back to where they had found it and was beheaded. The dragon’s head was mounted on a building. This dragon was named ‘La Gargouille’ and from it came ‘gargoyle’ which are common in French architecture.
The Ica Stones of Peru
We’ve all heard of the Ica Stones and the Nasca Drawings. There are many interesting things depicted on the Ica Stones. There’s drawings showing surgery, their daily lives as well as dragons. Now, why would they have drawn that there if they’d never seen dragons before? Is it perhaps that the people who created these stones knew of dragons? Something to ponder at least.
The Ica Stones aren’t the only evidence we have of these creatures. Civilizations all over the world have tales of dragons and the havoc they have caused. 2000 years ago, Gilgamesh wrote of a particular dragon that guarded the Cedar Forest of Amanus in Mesopotamia. Having powerful legs like that of a lion, the talons of a vulture, with a head bearing bull’s horns and a tail like a serpent. This creature they called Humbaba and he is sometimes depicted as human-like figure with scales on his back and the ability to breathe fire. He almost resembles a Stegosaurus in description, but since the stories can’t seem to agree on his physical characteristics it would be quite difficult to give an exact description of Humbaba.
The Loch Ness Monster and Other Famous Dragons
We all know this famous Scottish legend. So many stories surround the Scottish Loch. With the great depths the loch reaches, the possibility of a sea monster in the loch is not strange. For over a century locals have reported sightings and over the years the number of sightings continued.
I remember reading one particular story of a young boy and his friends who were out on the Loch, I can’t remember for certain if they were out looking for Nessie or if they were just out wind-surfing, whatever the reason they were out on the Loch. At some point they hit something and were capsized. Once capsized, they found themselves swimming blind in the fog. They called after each other and started swimming in the general direction of shore, but this was where their trip took a dark turn. Suddenly, they heard someone screaming and then another one of them screaming that something had got their friend. They immediately knew what had happened–Nessie had got one of them. They started to swim frantically towards the shore. Then came another cry and the last of his friends screaming that it had taken another of his friends down. After a while the boy realized that everything was quiet. He called for his friend, but heard nothing. It was then that he realized he was alone. He made it to shore crying for his friends that had been taken by Nessie. He told everyone what had happened. Sadly, his is probably not the only story like this.
These amazing winged creatures have been spotted multiple times in American states such as Texas, Ohio and other states in America. Stone carvings further add to the question of whether or not some of these amazing creatures may still exist. There have been spikes in sightings of these winged creatures in North Carolina this year. Most scientists have refused to accept that these creatures could still exist as it would contradict all that they claim to be true, but when so many are seeing the same thing you have to question whether or not they are right about all their theories. I mentioned above that the locals in Kenya bury their dead deep down otherwise they feel that Kongamato will come and dig up the bodies and eat them. They also have said that Kongamato lives deep in the caves.
Possibly the most famous creature in recent news. Tales of Mokele Mbembi were only discovered when Christian missionaries went into the Congo to speak the locals about Christ. They told stories of their encounters with what appeared to be a hybrid between a Plesiosaurus and a Brachiosaurus. This creature has been getting a lot coverage in the news. Since the discovery of 6 new species of frog and bat, many have wondered about whether or not this creature exists. Some parts of the Congo are still difficult to explore for various reasons and this makes it seem enticing to explorers. Could it be that those regions are where Mokele Mbembi is now hiding?
In reality all we will ever know is what people say to be true. If we want to know for ourselves we need to go out there and see for ourselves, but until then, we live and wonder if these people are just imagining it or is there more to this than we think. Whatever you choose to believe, I believe they are out there. Maybe they aren’t as big and scary as holiday portrays them, but as I mentioned in my article on extinct creatures (see Science and Medicine articles) the environment has had a major effect on their growth. History tell us that man has always walked with dragons/dinosaurs and thousands say that they still do.
So, avidReaders, I pose this question to you: What do you believe? Let me know in the comments what you think. I’d love to know.
God bless you all my dear avidReaders. Have a blessed week 🙂
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I – I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.
I have decided to do a poem a day just for fun. I’ll still post my normal content as usual I thought it’d be fun if I posted a poem a day 🙂
We are the hollow men We are the stuffed men Leaning together Headpiece filled with straw. Alas! Our dried voices, when We whisper together Are quiet and meaningless As wind in dry grass or rats’ feet over broken glass In our dry cellar
Shape without form, shade without colour, Paralysed force, gesture without motion;
Those who have crossed With direct eyes, to death’s other kingdom Remember us – if at all – not as lost Violent souls, but only As the hollow men The stuffed men.
Eyes I dare not meet in dreams In death’s dream kingdom These do not appear: There, the eyes are Sunlight on a broken column There, is a tree swinging And voices are In the wind’s singing More distant and more solemn Than a fading star.
Let me be no nearer In death’s dream kingdom Let me also wear Such deliberate disguises Rat’s coat, crowskin, crossed staves In a field Behaving as the wind behaves No nearer –
Not that final meeting In the twilight kingdom
This is the dead land This is cactus land Here the stone images Are raised, here they receive The supplication of a dead man’s hand Under the twinkle of a fading star.
Is it like this In death’s other kingdom Waking alone At the hour when we are Trembling with tenderness Lips that would kiss Form prayers to broken stone.
The eyes are not here There are no eyes here In this valley of dying stars In this hollow valley This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms
In this last of meeting places We grope together And avoid speech Gathered on this beach of this tumid river
Sightless, unless The eyes reappear As the perpetual star Multifoliate rose Of death’s twilight kingdom The hope only Of empty men.
Here we go round the prickly pear Prickly pear prickly pear Here we go round the prickly pear At five o’clock in the morning.
Between the idea And the reality Between the motion And the act Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom
Between the conception And the creation Between the emotion And the response Falls the Shadow
Life is very long
Between the desire And the spasm Between the potency And the existence Between the essence And the descent Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom
For Thine is Life is For Thine is the
This is the way the world ends This is the way the world ends This is the way the world ends Not with a bang but with a whimper.
This is the poem I mentioned in yesterday’s article. One of my favourites.