The Materialistic Maiden

Where I sip coffee and judge everyone.

Month: December, 2013

Time To Announce My Exciting News

I will be interning at the Edgar Allan Poe museum in Richmond this summer. 

I am…completely ecstatic, words cannot express how I am feeling about this. 

William Henry Leonard Poe-Edgar’s Most Handsome Brother

“Henry,” as he was so fondly called, was the older brother of Edgar Allan Poe. Born in 1807, Henry was only a young child when he, his young brother and young sister Rosalie, were separated and sent to separate homes. Henry was sent to be with their grandparents, David Sr. and Elizabeth.

Henry was an accomplished sailor (he is fondly known as the “pirate” in today’s age) as well as an accomplished poet. He unfortunately would not be able to live out a successful career, as he passed away at the age of twenty-four to tuberculosis. Younger brother Edgar would continue to use his brother for inspiration, and it is said Henry inspired such works as “Lenore” and The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket. 

Now, I have some exciting news. To my knowledge (perhaps I am incorrect) all of Henry’s poems are not currently on the internet. I found a few of his on the greatest Poe website I know, EAPoe.org, however not all were posted. As of last night, I had purchased and have on the way a book issued back in the early twentieth century; a collection of Henry’s poetry. Only 1000 of these books were published, and #773 is being delivered to my door. If anyone wishes for me to, I will be more than willing to perhaps post a poem or two of the poems not online. (I believe this is legal, because technically the poems were Henry’s, and he is well deceased, not to mention they were written past the 100 year minimum legal mark.)

Please let me know if this is illegal, in which case I certainly won’t post them. However if it is indeed legal, as I assume it to be, please do let me know and comment if there are any requests.

 

An Unnamed Poem, Written By Myself

A mystical summer of dancing faeries and glowing will-o-wisps encompasses the burning heart, 

fueled by the pallor of the iridescent moon above. 

Ocean waves echo hands gently strumming 

the harp in one’s soul, 

a raw, gentle movement stirring within. 

Shall you too join in the choreographed ballet, 

the waltz, 

the native dance of heart and harp, 

of moon and ocean, 

of faeries and will-o-wisps? 

Tranquility draws into dewdrops forming a haunting,

melancholy mist over all who watch or weep, who dance or sleep tonight.

Time stops and stirs, 

et la danse de la nuit est éternelle.

(Author’s note: please let me know what you think! It’s still in the works, I think.)

Thomas Lovell Beddoes–the unknown poet no one probably knows about, although they should

This strange poet was born in England in 1803 and committed suicide in January of 1849 in Switzerland. HIs father, according to Wikipedia (what a wonderful source, huh?), knew Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and his mother was the sister of Maria Edgeworth (an Irish children’s writer). Not a lot is known about him from first glance, however I found a lovely poem of his that I wanted to share (taken from Poem Hunter online):

A Clock Striking Midnight

Hark to the echo of Time’s footsteps; gone 
Thise moments are into the unseen grave 
Of ages. Thy have vanished nameless. None, 
While they are deep under the eddying wave 
Of the chaotic past, shall placea stone 
Sacred to these, the nurses of the brave, 
The mighty, and the good. Futurity 
Broods on the ocean, hatching ‘neath her wing 
Invisible to man the century, 
That on its hundered feet, a sluggish thing 
Gnawing away the world, shall totter by 
And sweep dead mortals with it. As I sing 
Time, the colossus of the world, that strides 
With each foot plunged in darkness silent glides, 

And puffs death’s cloud upon us. It is vain 
To struggle with the tide; we all must sink 
Still grasping the thin air, with frantic pain 
Grappling with Fame to buoy us. Can we think 
Eternity, by whom swift Time is slain, 
And dragged along to dark destruction’s brink, 
Shall be the echo of man’s puny words? 
Or that our grovelling thoughts shall e’er be writ 
In never fading stars; or like proud birds 
Undazzled in their cloud-built eyrie sit 
Clutching the lightning, or in darting herds 
Diving amid the sea’s vast treasury flit? 
Sink, painted clay, back to thy parent earth 
While the glad spirit seeks a brighter birth. 

 

I quite like him and shall do more research on this strange poet. (He is quite adorable, I must say. Just take a look at the picture below, it’s precious!)

Image(the picture is taken from Wikipedia.)

Traurigkeit–That Poem I Was Talking About–Re-Posted

Traurigkeit

 

“The skies they were ashen and sober; 

the leaves they were crisped and sere-

the leaves they were withering and sere; 

it was night in the lonesome October of 

my most immemorial year” –Edgar Allan Poe “Ulalume” 

 

The ominous sky reminded of 

an apocalyptic world, 

Its sadistic grin, blighting the grass

the trees and flowers, unfurled. 

 

A history of moans and whimpers 

of past ages erupted forth. 

The ground cracked and showed no history 

of hard work or of self-worth. 

 

Contaminated cities of 

industrialized destruction 

Killed the earth with selfishness and 

heartless deprivation. 

 

A symphony of pity falls 

upon deaf ears turned away 

Those who are apt don’t watch to find 

the ending of the inhumane play. 

 

A melancholy world where all move

alongside the tide of time 

Weep for hope and pity from strangers; 

alas there is no one to find.  

[Author’s note: I will most likely post this on my other blog, so please keep in mind it IS me. Also, this is my baby and I shall post him wherever I wish. (If you’ve read my previous rant post, you’ll understand what I’m talking about.)]

Poe on Poetry

A lesson from my dearest Mr. Poe.

Quy's Notebook

499px-Edgar_Allan_Poe_1848

Quotes:

“I hold that a long poem does not exist. I maintain that the phrase, “a long poem,” is simply a flat contradiction in terms.”

“I would define, in brief, the Poetry of words as the Rhythmical Creation of Beauty. Its sole arbiter is taste. With the intellect or with the conscience, it has only collateral relations. Unless incidentally, it has no concern whatever either with duty or with truth.”

“Literature is the most noble of professions. In fact, it is about the only one fit for a man.”

“A poem deserves its title only inasmuch as it excites, by elevating the soul.”

606px-Edgar_Allan_Poe_Signature.svg

Edgar Allan Poe

The Poetic Principle by Poe:

http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Poetic_Principle

The Philosophy of Composition by Poe:

http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Philosophy_of_Composition

490px-Spirtsofthedead

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I Am A Tad Bit Infuriated

I’d submitted the “Traurigkeit” poem that I’d posted when my blog first started, onto a poetry site to have it “accepted” or “denied.” Well, they denied it because the guidelines said the poem couldn’t be posted ANYWHERE else. Because I’d posted it on this blog, I deleted that post so that I may have it submitted, however they denied it regardless of that! It probably showed up in the “history of deleted stuff hidden in cyberspace,” or whatever. 

Bad thing is, I use a pseudonym for this blog, so the name obviously didn’t match what I was submitting. They probably think I stole my own poem. Hah. 

Well, okay, I’ll just post it back on here then because OBVIOUSLY it doesn’t fit any guidelines and nobody wants it. 

/end rant. 

How beautiful.

The Miskatonic Drinker

I fell asleep watching the sideway edge of the sunset turn from fire to rust, then to the soft velvet of twilight. When I awoke, precious Luna spoke to me, Her face a serene smile on a silent battlefield of chaos. And staring silently back at Her, I felt more inconsequential and alone than ever before. And yet, I felt also as a God over it all, closer to my Goddess than ever before.

Someday I will ascend to Her side, but for now must to content to stand in awe, and betwixt Her kind appearances, to toil under the harsh glare of Celia and her embers, to sleep the lonely times away, the memory of the Great Black Wolf Belladonna howling in the distance.

And so I sleep, and thus I dream, and all I see now are the scattered petals of a life long gone, much loved, yet…

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Books, Books, and More Books!

What an age to be alive! There is such variety in literature that it is almost dizzying the amount of reading I wish to do, the books I yearn to read! Because I am incredibly impatient, I am reading multiple books at once. For my own records to keep track of what I am currently reading, so as to not neglect a novel and never finish it, I will list the books that I am currently reading which are,

Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen
My Jane Austen Summer by Cindy Jones
White Nights by Dostoyevsky 
Catch-22 by Joseph Heller

and I wish to start Persuasion by Austen soon too, however upon looking at this list, I doubt that will happen in the very near future, not to mention that I need to catch up on Poe’s works so I am ready for my internship this summer….If I could never sleep and read all through the night, I would do so every night. Which is saying a lot, because I adore sleep and dreams. I guess we can’t be too choosy, can we. 

An Aside on Jane Austen and Charity

I have been occupying myself with Jane Austen movies and other BBC films that are available through Netflix, and I must say, Mansfield Park (I believe it is the 1999 version?) is fantastic! I adored it, regardless of the undertones of cousin-cousin love. (Well, hah, there was no undertone there, it was bluntly pronounced.) And I must say, I honestly do not have any issues watching or reading novels with cousin-cousin love due to my exposure of it through studying Edgar Allan Poe. It was simply the time period, and I find nothing wrong with that. Although if I were to read a novel with those implications today, I think I would feel uneasy. It is all about the time period. 

I apologize for this quick blurb of nonsense after being silent for the past couple days. Finals have occupied my time. I will be delighted to finish this semester and move on with the next…oh, so delighted. I am taking primarily art classes next semester, both art history and art application classes. I am ecstatic! 

I have been debating whether or not to add a minor…I am already double-majoring, but I have so much interest in theater and vocal performance now (regained interest). We shall see!

In other news, Christmas is coming, and I want to remind everyone to please keep those who are less fortunate in your thoughts. Please do your part, if you wish to and can, and be generous this Christmas. I know there are so many charitable opportunities pretty much on every corner, so do not be afraid to partake in or act on those opportunities. 

Isaiah 58:10
 

and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in the darkness, and your night will become like the noonday.

 

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