Best Nevermore Poems
*Note: A 60-year annual tradition that involved a mysterious visitor leaving three
roses at the grave of writer Edgar Allan Poe on the anniversary of his birthday
ended in January 2010. Curators of the Poe House and Museum are at a loss to
explain who left these gifts and why they stopped. On many occasions people kept
vigils near Poe’s grave during this period that began in 1949, but no one ever saw
someone leaving the roses. In the morning, however, they were always on his
grave. Poe is considered the father of the American short story and
his poem The Raven is one of his best known works.
Once upon a midnight dreary, Poe heard a tapping at his window
While grieving the loss of his young bride, a maiden “angels named Lenore,”
A radiant teen whose long, black hair in gentle breezes would billow,
Tapping at the window ceased, but suddenly it was heard at his door
Upon opening it, a Raven flew in repeating, “Nevermore”
At first he welcomed this odd visitor until Poe whispered, “Lenore”
When he heard his word echo, the strange Raven he began to abhor
He asked if he’d see his bride again and the bird replied, “Nevermore”
Though Poe died in eighteen forty-nine, a mystery evolved much later
A century after his death, his grave had an annual visitor
Roses were left on his birthday by someone whose love appeared greater
Who had left these floral gifts forever stumped the Poe House curator
Perhaps the answer can only be explained by reincarnation
Did the Raven embody the spirit of Poe’s beloved Lenore
If so, perhaps the Raven returned again in a life rotation
In human form she visited to lay roses on the earthen floor
And upon her death in two-thousand nine, she took to the skies once more
A Raven who now joins the flock circling above her late husband’s grave \/
Could it be her spirit remains with Poe, as it did in life before \/ \/ \/
Bringing him in the afterlife all the roses a poet could crave \/ \/ \/ \/
For those who consider this possibility totally absurd
Just consider the fantasies Poe created with the written word
By Carolyn Devonshire
Contest Title: “Among the Dead,” sponsored by Constance LaFrance ~ A Rambling
Poet ~
I write of a man named Edgar Allan Poe,
Whose dark, tortured soul could not rest,
His work is something every poet should know,
These stories are among some of the best.
"The Raven" was never more ghastly and grim,
"The Pit And The Pendulum" which tortured him,
"The Valley Of Unrest" was such a quiet place,
Where "The Sleeper" dreams in peaceful grace,
"The Murders In The Rue Morgue" were a mystery,
"The Fall Of The House Of Usher" had a gloomy history,
"The Black Cat" was dead, but suffered no pain,
"The Tell-Tale Heart" is what drove him insane,
"The Masque Of The Red Death" did conceal,
While "The Purloined Letter" did reveal,
"The Premature Burial" meant for the dead,
"Annabel Lee" was the corpse bride he wed,
"Spirits Of The Dead" found themselves alone,
"The Conqueror Worm" that fed on human bone,
"The Haunted Palace" was wandered by ghosts,
"Tamerlane" written for one he loved the most.
As the poetry flowed from his heart,
One tragic day, death came to his door,
Finally his tortured soul could depart,
He would then pick up his pen, nevermore.
A memory, the past
somehow I knew,
we wouldn't last
- You and Me -
Secrets held, not by me
You can't see the hurt, the pain
Words spoken, not by you
Yet, by me
I can see,
while standing at the door
You
and me,
We are, Nevermore
Featured Poem- 6/17/2018
O impetuous Muse surround me
with ashes of moody youth
recall silken moments uncertain,
where marbled words wrote an elaborate history.
Nectar thoughts,
not moments, dappled drab
where ruined feathers in darkness dwelt
Ornate years of passion, spilling fire
When summer spoke,and spring day-dreamed
and Autumn kissed me with
gaudy leaves.
Swift and sweet, how memories rise
diamond- strung in a room of silver
Slick and sleek from a stormy world,
solid tree trunks on a bell- clear morning.
Blithe, dramatic, reckless dreams
flowing with precocious, peculiar streams
Luxurious with sadness,
time’s cruel wheel
rolls vast recollections that slowly yield
cold, closed canyons of
endless truths,
touched with the starry
kiss of youth.
Suzanne Delaney
for Harry
With the weather cold and dry
My mind wanders far and wide
Within the future things in store
Negative thoughts, nevermore
Of course the mind can think of horrible thoughts
The pain that left the memory, not forgot
Until one day, it returns to life
To fear it with your heart, nevermore
This stone inside is your sanctuary
Not to be broken or to make one wary
Demons from the past surround your love
Let these Legion win, nevermore
Alas, true lovers can fight them off
Not lie, bicker, hate or scoff
Predict the weather tomorrow pleasant
Allow the rain to come, nevermore
You cannot allow this darkness to thrive
To swarm your soul like a hornets’ hive
Beware of those who intend to kill
Let them take your heart, nevermore
Titles are a trivial thing
Would phones or your heart start to ring?
When your darling returns home in your arms
Let the outside in, nevermore
For you and our love are all that matter
My heart and soul come together in patter
For my weakness is your voice
Allow us to be apart, nevermore
The trepidation of dread released my haunted dreams.
I carry nightmares of long lost apprehensions bleeding into
your core. My essence, you have shattered and your essence I have
protected. You threw me out on the clothes line and forgot
my name once again. How many times do I need to learn?
I have failed in the area of romance and I have failed at
keeping you near me during cold nights. I was your cold nights
and you were my warm days. Please think about this one
more time…I needed you like breath and I broke for you like
loss. Your loss was me and you could care less. My loss will always
be you and I will never break free from my inhibitions. You restrain
your words out of spite and I hinder the love we could have had.
Too deep inside a disaster yet too surfaced to remain adjacent.
Obstruction has begun and it will never cease to end. I have suppressed
all the good moments because you prohibit me from remembering them.
One mournful goodbye has cremated my aspirations. I loved you
like roses and said goodbye to you like nevermore.
Written By: Laura Loo
~Date Written: April 7, 2016~
We went to that "holler" each summer vacation
Near one hundred acres of mountainside trees
I'd wake up at dawn, take flight to my station
Down at the pond, fishing pole in my hand
On that hot sandbar, all day I would stand
At Mammaw's cabin there were no boundaries
One thing about grandmas, they don't live forever
That awful news hit me at age twenty-four
A loss so incredible I had felt never
Fishing, frogging, climbing, exploring,
Blackberries, walnuts, watching hawks soaring
That "holler" of Mammaw's I saw nevermore
April 2, 2018
Once upon a time my dearie, I slept to wake Oh So Cheery.
Before that Raven clearly came, to knock upon my Dragons door.
Dragon took him in very nice, warming him up within a thrice.
Saving him from the cold and ice, now we dream to find slumbers door.
Wishing, wishing, clearly wishing, we keep praying for slumbers door.
Simply this, and nothing more.
Dragon saved that silly Raven, who had come from his Poe haven.
He came knocking very craven, wanting solace in Dragon’s door.
Hungry, lost, little, lonely thing, frozen clearly were tender wings.
Crying sadly from colds’ harsh sting, wanting solace within the door.
Thus when open, entered quickly, quickly entered our Dragon’s door.
If only this, were nothing more.
But this raven suffered dearly, nights he quoted Poe so clearly.
Giving Dragon nightmares dreary, causing wakening fearful roars.
Nightmares flared as Dragon running, into our bed quickly jumping.
On the floor all quickly landing, soundly the bed fell to the floor.
The raven came, on us landing, to gaze upon us on the floor.
Please Raven... Quote no more!
Sleepless nights continued passing, from the ravens endless blasting.
Night terrors steadily flowing, nothing stopped those endless scores.
An idea came to find me, on how his mind could be set free.
Eager to change the dreams to be, I sought an Ipod full of scores.
Scores begetting tranquil dreaming, solace finding and soothing scores.
Searching for this, and nothing more.
Begins the night’s shadows creeping, his eyes mocking, and beseeching.
I must stop his soul from joining, to fight with Poes’ shadows trying…
Trying once more, to take his soul, toward those demon littered shores.
Grabbing the ipod I forward tore, to give him tranquility evermore.
Pouch and ear buds firmly seated, engaged in a fierce-some war.
Morning found all, in blissful snores… Quoted the raven nevermore.
6-05-2014 I found it interesting to follow Poe's style measure for measure.
Nevermore, Translation of Paul Verlaine’s sonnet : Nevermore
(In this translation of Paul Verlaine’s « Nevermore » , I must say I felt inveigled into adhering to the fixed form by making some unnecessary allowances just in order to respect the rime scheme. It would have been better if I had abandoned the effort at laboriously keeping to the original’s end-rimes. T. Wignesan)
Souvenirs, souvenirs, what do you want of me ? Autumn
Invites the thrush to fly through the air lifeless sans tone,
And the sun beats its rays down : relentless monotone
Over the yellowing wood where claps the North wind’s thunder tone.
We were walking all by ourselves as if in a dream,
She and I, haïr and thoughts buffeted by the wind’s non-esteem.
All of a sudden, she turned towards me her looks agleam
« Which was your most beautiful day ? » did her lively golden voice beam.
Her voice soft and sonorous, a fresh timbre angelic.
A discreet smile she did redeem as a reaction cyclic,
And her blanched hand I kissed with devoutness.
Oh ! the first flowers, how their scent liberates perfumes !
And the first sounds they emit akin to charming murmur
The first « yes » that escapes the lips of virgin dames consumes !
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
The sun has learned
to nevermore interfere
with the moon
and its stars
To give it a whole world
because the sun
doesn't need to stand in the way,
when it has free reign
of the entire universe.
When the Parakeet increased his squawking
with the noise box ceaseless talking
far louder than the muted city roar.
Then I pondered that curious poem about the lost Lenore
About that bedeviled man and the raven Nevermore
How I envy Poe his quiet midnight
when he could hear a tapping however light
through the window pane or was it a chamber door
when quoth that famous raven Nevermore
I agree oh raven, Nevermore!
Nevermore what power lies in that word
I'm trading my parakeet for a silent gallows bird
that knows only that single solitary noun or did he mean it as a verb?
Nevermore the nightly noises that disturb
television gunfights, cabs screeching off the curb
neighbors who are seldom seen but always overheard
The raven sought a bust of Pallas
as a quiet place to perch
They took me to the rest home
between the firehouse and that bell ringing city church
so to the end of this as must all tales
for now I contemplate Poe's bells, Bells, BELLS!
The coven of witches heard a loud knock.
Who is it? Shout'd a voice behind the cloak.
" It is me said Poe
The one that you know"
And everyone chant'd "Nevermore" with a mock!
Dorian Petersen Potter
Aka ladydp2000
Copyright2014
September,25,2014
Stainless steel makes stainless hearts.
They then make us suffer,
For no one can see the pain inside.
This makes the villains, the joyful devils.
Through them we learn kindness and mercy,
The qualities of life and existence.
Without them we would stay still -
Alone and empty.
They bring us life and love.
Sometimes, through our own fault,
We lose it.
Then life takes charge and we renew ourselves.
Forever more we live, forever more we love.
Begone, thou creature hovering o’er my door
Your ebony feathers evoke my anger
My dear Lenore was swept up in your wings
Nevermore to share her love with me
February 19, 2020
For Charles Messina’s “Poe-etic” verse contest
I left myself vulnerable
I left myself exposed
But that will never happen again
No, nevermore
I offered myself to you
I sacrificed my soul
But that will never happen again
No, nevermore
I shared secret fantasies
All the dreams I had in store
But that will never happen again
No, Nevermore
I let you in the Holy Place
Where your image I adore
But that will never happen again
No, Nevermore
I let you taste my passion
Let it soak you to the core
But that will never happen again
No, Nevermore
I gave you control of me
Gave in to your whims and more
But that will never happen again
No, nevermore
I gifted to you my body
And let you caress my soul
But that will never happen again
No, nevermore
Though I gave you all I had
And opened my heart’s door,
Though to me you were a king
Whom I lived to please and more
You did not value me aright
Nor treasure me…what’s more
I KNOW that you will long for me
Now and Evermore!
Eileen Manassian Ghali