Edgar and Me
© Ben Burton 2-20-2015
If I were Edgar Allan Poe
I'd been dead many years ago
Two score, no more, the poet bore
Before rejoining his Lenore
Reflections now, from sixty-five
I'm wondering how I have survived
For, having shared his mental state
Induced abuse which bordered crazed
In looking back it seems most strange
The lucid fundamental change
Created in a child of eight
Whose kinship must have been innate
With one long dead, a hundred years
Before that smack upon my rear
I learned his poems, all were gems
And thought that rhyme was named for him
Read "Gold Bug" and "The Telltale Heart"
Thence, for some time I feared the dark
And as I read, I knew that I
Had, even then, the skills to write
Though modesty forbade the act
Far less than the assured attack
For none dare read foul poetry
In place of chase or hide and seek
When unassigned, a travesty
I wrote in fits, but just for me
"The Raven" and "The Bells" bequeathed
A rhythm beat of hell in me
Too natural to be mere chance
My mind would rhyme through happenstance
With no attempts to join the breed
Through school or university
I, nonetheless, read works aloud
In hopes their authors had been proud
Won competitions far and wide
Unsatisfied, the words weren't mine
And yet, I kept my pen at bay
Years past my graduation day
Jack Daniels opened up my soul
To take me on poetic strolls
Not unlike Poe who oft consumed
Whilst making sojourns to the tomb
I hungered to make words my own
Through blank verse, limerick, or song
Though mostly as a barroom trick
Which oft'times made the pick-up quick
But then, at length, I followed Poe
Officially gave up the ghost
By then I'd fifteen years surpassed
The forty Poe logged for his last
But providence did intervene
Man-made machine, propitiously
Brought back to life that muscle which
Once stilled, rarely renews its tick
My second life was born to write
To spill it all, let nothing slide
And, on ten years my pen creates
Whatever my odd mind dictates
With second chance, I wish to praise
The first man whom within me raised
A passion known as poetry
Though I am light years from his league
We met in El Dorado's dream
Two kindred souls, Edgar and me
Copyright © Ben Burton | Year Posted 2015
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment