Today is Edgar’s birthday
And the third year in a row
That the famous caped “Poe Toaster”
Has decided not to show.
From 1949 for sure,
And maybe years preceding,
The Toaster visited Poe’s grave,
And not to do some weeding.
With wide-brimmed hat and scarf and cape
To keep his ID hidden,
He’d sneak right up to Edgar’s tomb,
A visit most forbidden.
He used a cane with silver tip
To navigate the ground;
And in the morning, at the site,
The following was found:
A Martell cognac bottle
With its contents halfway filled
And a trio of red roses,
Which helped make the legend build.
In 1998, a note
Explained the torch was passed;
A Toaster “son” would be the one
To hold tradition fast.
On Poe’s 200th birthday, though,
The year 2010,
The Toaster missed his calling
And has not been seen again.
The ritual’s become, alas,
A faded bit of history;
But Edgar Allan Poe fans love
Its enigmatic mystery.
I Swoon In Spring-My 200th
By Rick Rucker
I hide all Winter long,
The lack of Light does give me gloom,
My desire to see my Love is still strong,
But I am Alone in my room,
Feeling that it is my tomb,
While I try with all my Might,
I cannot shake the pall,
Caused by the Lonely night,
I really want to do it all,
To attend, outside, a Costume Ball,
But that will have to wait,
For my favorite season,
The one that lets me tempt my Fate,
With my New Love, as the reason,
The one when the World stops freezin’
I hear a bird that does sing,
And he is in the strongest Light,
I will take the Promise Ring,
And will give it to Her, without respite,
From Blessed noon, ‘til the dark of night!
An endless corridor of locked doors is forever.
A fine line borders what is to be and never.
There is a balance of new beginnings with each end.
Time brings elements of creation. What will it send?
Will rhythm expire with a severance of connection?
It is undetermined how this will attain perfection.
The future is forever, and what will be its qualities?
Progression is achieved as I deploy my proclivities.
Join me to elucidate the unknown everywhere.
Enlighten the spirits and make them become aware.
My life’s course is strewn with mines.
I move furtively as I traverse the lines.