Edgar Allan Poe

published 1845) 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 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 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 footfalls 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 in 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!

Greg Frewin

During spring break I went to Canada. There I saw a magic show called “Imagine” the host was Greg Frewin a.k.a “The International Grand Champion of Magic” He was absolutely outstanding! Here is a video of him he’s amazing make sure to comment.

Traditional Literature : Folktales

In class we are learning about Traditional Literature. Specifically today I’m talking about folktales. Folktales are a traditional story passed down the years of story-telling. So maybe one of your ancestors herd this story.One folktale is the story of Anasi the spider and the turtle.

Anansi the spider was greedy. One day, Turtle came to visit as Anansi was about to eat his dinner.

“What a nice dinner!” said Turtle. To be polite, Anansi had to offer to share the food. Still, he did not want to.

“You can join me,” said Anansi. “But first, clean your hands.” Turtle’s hands were dirty. He went to the river and washed. When he came back, Anansi had started to eat.

“Your hands are still dirty!” Anansi said.

Turtle looked down. On his way back, he had walked through mud. So he went and washed again. When he returned, he found that Anansi had eaten all the food.

“Tomorrow you must come to my house to share my dinner,” said Turtle.

The next day, a hungry Anansi met Turtle at the river. Turtle dove into the water to his home on the river bottom. Anansi jumped into the water and tried to swim down, but he was too light. Then, Anansi put stones in his pockets and sank down to Turtle’s home. Turtle had started to eat.

Turtle looked at Anansi and said, “It is not polite to eat with your coat on. You must take it off.” Anansi took off his coat. Without the stones, he was light again. He floated up to the surface. From there, he watched Turtle finish his meal.

You could read another folktale if you click here.



I give credit to the websites I used to make this post http://mhschool.com and https://www.myhaikuclass.com


Harry Houdini a.k.a Erik Weisz

Harry Houdini was very interesting to the history of mankind. Houdini was an illusionist who was born in Budapest, Hungary on March 24, 1874. Harry put on many magic shows. One of Harry’s most famous show is when he escaped from the Chinese water torture trap it’s a giant glass box filled up with water. Houdini escaped the Chinese water torture trap. Houdini was trapped inside a giant milk tank and he escaped.Houdini was very important to the history of mankind.


Houdini died of peritonitis a disease because a collage kid wanted to test Houdini’s strength and he punched Houdini several times in the stomach when he wasn’t ready. After that Houdini still put on four shows after that he died on 10-31-1926 on Halloween in Detroit, Michigan. Houdini may be the best escape artist ever.

Two Bad Ants Queen

One day I was sitting there with my ant children and I was hungry. So I ordered the scout to get me some food that I’ve have tasted before I said. “Get me something nice.” The scout answered back. “Yes ma’am!” Then the scout was out off. Five hours later he was back with something that looked like a crystal. I tasted it. The crystal was so delicious. “I need more of these! Many more!” I said. So I ordered all the ants to find more crystals. They were back in no time. All of them were there except two ants that were always naughty. “Where are the other two ants?” I asked. “We don’t know.” Said the other ants. I thought to myself. “Those two ants better be back soon.” I waited until tomorrow but those ants weren’t back. Before the other ants were awake I ate all of the crystals. Later that day I ordered the ants to get me more crystals. They obviously did. When they got back all the ants were all back. Then we lived happily ever after.

Hoot By: Carl Hiaasen

Hoot is a book I’m reading right now. Hoot is a book named about Roy who sees this boy running to some place. Then one day he follows the boy to his place but that isn’t his place. Roy opens a bag and there is snakes in the bag. He remembers from Montana that when he sees snakes you stay still. Then Roy says “Were you the boy that was running down the street?” The boy answered “No.” After a little while of speaking back and forth Roy walks away and doesn’t get to see the boys face. I haven’t read that much so tell me if I should read more because it is a long book.




Gold is useful in many ways. Gold has been around for thousands of years it dated back to 4,600 b.c. The U.S.A still uses gold in many ways like cell phone cases and rings. Way back in the day people used to use gold for teeth implants. That is some of the ways that gold is useful in the U.S.