Edgar
9 members found (show all)
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Andrew Edgar
Australia
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Tracy Edgar
Australia
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Edgar Pineda
United States
168 creative works found
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Following the discussion under this fine tee from the Industries of Lucan; here is my Edgar Allan Poe tee. It is based around his short story The Tell Tale Heart , read it. Now. / Thanks go to the pubic domain resources of Wikipedia for the heart and for the lung capillaries. Click for white ink version: /
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Inspired by Edgar Allen Poe’s masterful and thought provoking poem The Raven _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, 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!_
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Ink on paper illustration from a book I have written and illustrated. This character is largely inspired by Edgar Allan Poe and an array of depressive songwriters I have encountered.
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Following the discussion under this fine tee from the Industries of Lucan; here is my Edgar Allan Poe tee. It is based around his short story The Tell Tale Heart , read it. Now. / Thanks go to the pubic domain resources of Wikipedia for the heart and for the lung capillaries. / . / Black ink edition
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Edgar
by Yves RubinWe play roller hockey together. Edward posed for me after our game. This image is part of two that were chosen for the beautiful Photo Workshop book edited by Lynne Eodice (Photo that Inspire).
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I think this one’s pretty self explanatory.
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11×15” (Winsor & Newton Cotman and Loew-Cornell Metallics on Strathmore CP 300 series paper) ink and watercolor Poe is one of my favorite macabre authors. I was weary of seeing portraits of him done so plainly based on the daguerreotype, and wanted to romanticize him a bit with a more youthful, contemplative and surreal portrait. I included The Black Cat and The Raven as they were the inspiration for this piece. Part of my Revolutionaries series.
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Take this kiss upon the brow! / And, in parting from you now, / Thus much let me avow— / You are not wrong, who deem / That my days have been a dream; / Yet if hope has flown away / In a night, or in a day, / In a vision, or in none, / Is it therefore the less gone? / All that we see or seem / Is but a dream within a dream. I stand amid the roar / Of a surf-tormented shore, / And I hold within my hand / Grains of the golden sand- / How few! yet how they creep / Through my fingers to the deep, / While I weep-while I weep! / O God! can I not grasp / Them with a tighter clasp? / O God! can I not save / One from the pitiless wave? / Is all that we see or seem / But a dream within a dream? Words by Edgar Allan Poe Philip Glass Aquarium / Music Acrylics, pigment, graphite and gold leaf / 100×42 cm on paper
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Bird of ill omen is perched on a cheerful yelllow “ominous”. Edgar Allen Poe’s raven said “Nevermore”, which I suppose is a lesson to us all to only ask questions which we would prefer to be answered in the negative. The raven/crow family are second only to the parrot family in intelligence in the bird kingdom, and have been witnessed to have the ability to reason and use tools. “The Mind of the Raven” is the story of one man’s devotion to their study.
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Edgar’s head can recite gloomy poetry with a bit of uncanny mechanical engineering…...
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He was a goodly Spirit -he who fell: / A wanderer by mossy-mantled well / A gazer on the lights that shine above / A dreamer in the moonbeam by his love: / What wonder? For each star is eye-like there, / And looks so sweetly down on Beauty’s hair. Words by Edgar Allan Poe Painting using acrylics – 42cm x102cm 13th December 2008
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Nameless here for evermore I / Copyright Otilee 2009 Art direction, Photography, post Otilee / MUA Countess Grotesque http://countess-grotesque.deviantart.com/ / Co-styling Otilee & Countess Grotesque / Model Countess Grotesque http://countess-grotesque.deviantart.com/ / Hair Otilee / Assistant Brendan http://memoriesofnam.deviantart.com/ Skirt & Corset design by Laura Geddes / Boots & Pendant: models own. *Title reference: Edgar Allan Poe – The Raven.
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Fictional figure / ROUBLE 18×24 cm / Acrylic, Gouache & Watercolours on canvas / Full view please — / / — © All images copyright ROUBLE RUST / Spyridoula Bleta / All the images in this gallery are copyrighted, are NOT part of public domain & may not be reproduced, copied, edited, transmitted, uploaded, downloaded, or published in any way without my permission. Any violation of this copyright law will result in a lawsuit.
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You know him. You love him. Here he is. Another 1 hour portrait. Hope you dig it. Oils on 8” x 10” canvas panel.
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Thank you to the Red Bubble team for featuring this photo on their art page…my first..a very big deal to me. Sincerest thanks!!! Featured in the First Things group…with thanks to the hosts! Featured in the Reaching Freedom…with thanks to the beautiful hosts! Featured in the Outsiders…sincere thanks, dear hosts! I have a fascination with ravens…and Poe…and poetry. This photo is being posted with Vonne in mind…I love her Rowen stories. Model with thanks to Christopher and Claire! Inspired by Edgar Allan Poe ~ The Raven ~ 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.’
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Based on the Edgar rice burroughs books of barsoom a romantic vision of a dying mars. mjranum-model stock-deviant art anothergirl anotherplanet
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“From childhood’s hour I have not been / As others were; I have not seen / As others saw; I could not bring / My passions from a common spring. / From the same source I have not taken / My sorrow; I could not awaken / My heart to joy at the same tone; / And all I loved, I loved alone. / Then- in my childhood, in the dawn / Of a most stormy life- was drawn / From every depth of good and ill / The mystery which binds me still: / From the torrent or the fountain, / From the red cliff of the mountain, / From the sun that round me rolled / In its autumn tint of gold, / From the lightning in the sky / As it passed me flying by, / From the thunder and the storm, / And the cloud that took the form / (When the rest of Heaven was blue) / Of a demon in my view.” “ALONE”By Edgar Allan Poe
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To view these images extra large on black, please see my main website *Copyright © 1989-2009 Tracy Edgar – All Rights Reserved
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Featured in Freedom to Shine on Oct. 4, 2009 / Featured in Dimensions on Oct. 5, 2009 / Winner in All in the Editing “Horror Hill Challenge” on Oct. 6, 2009 / Featured in A Place To Call Home on Oct. 8, 2009 This image is an homage to Edgar Allen Poe. / Earthmonster provided the template (background/house) image for a challenge in the All in the Editing group. The photo of the crow is mine. The verse from The Raven describing this scene is: 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. / / The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe / Published January 29, 1845 / / Click the link ABOVE to hear “Edgar Allen Poe” read his poem. The Raven is often noted for its musicality, stylized language, and supernatural atmosphere. It tells of a talking raven’s mysterious visit to a distraught lover, tracing the man’s slow descent into madness. The lover is lamenting the loss of his love, Lenore. The raven seems to further instigate his distress with its constant repetition of the word “Nevermore”. (Wikipedia)
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Josephine lives at Edgars Mission in Kilmore, Victoria / Here, she is looking out from the shelter she’s under. Pentax k10d / sigma 70-300 / no crop / levels in photoshop
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Here’s The gloomy author Edgar Allan Poe off on his prophetic avian steed.
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Poe
by ZOMBIE RUSTEdgar Allan Poe (1809–1849) / Quick portrait. Inks.
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My favourite author ever, and my favourite poem ever. :D
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