Topic: Poe, Clair Ubert

Clair Poe

Date: 2007-05-03 14:34 EST
"Poe Pushes up Daisies, in the cheap section of RhyDin Graveyard"

Clair Ubert Poe was found down on the docks, last week, for all purposes, a dead man. As a Poe hibernates now and then, who can tell? He is to be interred in the cemetery and is taking his worldly wealth with him. Poe went, wearing his rented Elvis suit. And is wrapped in the traditional Poe burlap shroud. He leaves his wife, Myradiane, 3 sons and the family mule, Clydie. Also his second wife, Lula DeVore and third wife, Myradiane. Poe leaves his Ma, Uncle Twig,and a host of cousins and the town crier, Morgus. Poe was a former employee of the Castle, Wagon maker and carver of whittled things. He was a member of an army but cannot recall for which side. He worked as an Ale Tester, a job he did well enjoy. Poe was a member of the Do Nothin' League, the Poe Memorial Plywood Lodge and was Honored Hero; rank of King, of course. "Sleep. Hibernation be not death, but then it might."...Poe traditional saying.

Amber Cartwrite

Date: 2007-05-03 22:19 EST
"Mister Poe?" Amber walked into the section where the sign said his name.

She clutched a few flowers, purple violets and a dandelion or so, in one fist. Clutched the stems until they were about mashed.

"How come no one told me you were gone?" The little lady inquired in a whisper shakey and barely audible, even to a ghost.

"I almost got lost going to this here place." Miss Cartwrite sniffled back a few tears. " I am so sorry I asked you to get those Root Beer barrels from the docks. And look. You are..."

Then Amber heard this sound, like a keening wail and suddenly she dropped the bouquet right on Poe's recently covered grave and ran.

"Waaaa!" Cartwrite ran as fast as her short red and white stripe stocking legs could move.

Out the stately gates and on out to the roadway, like a hobnailed shoed being in square dance clothes on the fast track.

"Waaa! It's my fault! I never shoulda asked him to get those barrels for me! " Twigs off a rose bush caught her long blonde hair and she screamed as if something reached out and snagged her good.

Amber ran back home and tried to recall only good about the Poe man.

soless

Date: 2007-05-25 06:10 EST
"How very, very strange", said a voice, upon two lengthy-legs, standing directly opposite one tombstone and behind another. She thumped the end of her cane into the grass three times, and then dragged it across the epithet lettering, as she read out quietly to herself the parting words they formed.

"Poor chap"

A tilting of her head, a frown, Sol assuaged by this lonely-looking plot. Only a few sad flowers there. And twine-knit petunias.

Being hearty, she tucked the cane under an arm and bent over, kissing the grave looking marble, once.

"Goodnight Poe"

A cheshire smile laced in some distant-looking madness, and off the Buster Keaton Woman went, bowing as she passed the trees, and whistling some irritable tune. In a most peculiar mood was she.

"I do wonder if he ever did know a Morella", mused out loud as she passed some rosebushes, and nonchantly pulled at some foreign, blonde hair caught on a briar, wondering to herself how it indeed got there.

and then her whispered words faded into the undergrowth along with her.

soless

Date: 2007-06-06 04:15 EST
This time around, Soleil was convinced of her feet. There would be no flying into holes and confrontations with Big Tooth Bunnies, or roses which wore blonde hair or men who tried to bury her. Whatta town!

She laughed to herself as she strode along, occassionally bursting out into a waltzing tune, as she swung her cane around and around and with the other hand the basket. Her eyes fell to the familiar plot and she grinned, hurrying over, hunched forward, so as to not wake the dead.

"Hello Poe!" she announced gladly, as surreptitiously she looked side to side, aware of how loud she was, and hadn't meant to be. With a shrug, she sat cross legged beside a mulberry bush, the rose thicket and the gravestone and placed her cane beside the basket on the dewy grass, followed by her bottom. The clown was a tomboy, heedless of a damp suit. A quick look around and she nodded to herself. She quite liked the cheapseats, it afforded her an impressive view of the surrounding greenery and fauna. Such as the less severe looking rabids.



"Poe, boy, I hope you don't mind my eating in front of you. I can imagine it must be hard. But the dead don't salivate. I assume?"

A brow lifted and she stared hard at the wettened soil from recent rain and fog and then the tombstone itself.

"Well, to be honest, I figured this would be a fairly one-sided conversation. I often talk to myself anyway, at least in this suit. Elsewhere I'm not so boisterous. You can understand, it is the clown that found you? A smile lingered on her mouth. That exotic effect on her face. Long-lasting smiles such a rarity on her nude-coloured mouth. She plucked a slice of ham from the basket's left flap and nibbled it slowly, thoughtfully staring at the plot.

"I need to get you some new flowers" A sheepish look and she quickly gobbled up some more ham. Her next destination was a florist.

soless

Date: 2007-07-23 02:12 EST
Late in the day when the grass itched the knees and fingers and thistles hummed their drone, her silhouette drifted in and out of groves and thorny avenues towards a place she found she liked for a reason she did not know. The sky was an agony with its low clouds and musk-pink streaks along the backend of day. Gray light steeped in long, ghastly shadows making murky the distance and offering her a kind of veil as she settled into a cross legged perch opposite the grave and linked her fingers together and sighed. The grave was spotless, though all flowers were dead, and the single peonie bunch in her hand wilted and drooping as if disheartened by the astral gloom far above. With a nod she smiled, enchanted by this queer little plot, and bending forward with the weight of shoulders, she tossed herself over and stared at that mourning sky and then held up her middle finger, draping the flower-clutching hand across her heart. The world beneath was skeletons, worms, dirt, a laboratory of soil filled with death?s uncomfortable talismans. Guarding herself from delighting in such imaginings after her fancy west in the world, and her current return to Rhy'Din, she enlivened a spell, called sleep. Her dreams were vast and filtered in glossy purples. There were no clouds and Poe lived. He walked hand in hand with a blonde flower who was thornless, and the rain that did fall fell upwards, from the mud. The cheap vaudeville of her fractured mind a-bloom in this her nightmare extravagance, face up in a graveyard.

Clair Poe

Date: 2007-08-28 02:19 EST
The dead don't salivate.

Above the departed, summer green grasses and wild onions waved in the breeze of the sultry hot August afternoon. It was a time of life and movement; a time to celebrate a good harvest time to come.

Deep in the ground, under the marker which reads "Clair Poe", there was a slight shuddering of the earth blanket wrap about his burlap covered form. Something was different, but what that was, who can say"

Much less than an earthquake, there was a slight sound, reminiscent of the living Poe man.

"Belch!"

Who says "the dead don't salivate?"....