The Raven: A Date with Death
I danced a date
a date with Death.
He sat me down for tea.
In the darkness sat the swirl
of infinity.
The ringlets 'round his brow
did stain the spirits evermore.
'Where do you hail?' he asked in disdain.
'I come from nowhere, yet anywhere, and I'll
go there all again.'
Death looked displeased, forlorn.
He longed to take another soul.
But my muse is cloaked in folklore.
Stories guide me home.
I was bound to Earth, you see.
Another just as old.
Another soul as wise as mine.
As clever, as bold.
But sharp ones poison,
wither,
drown.
Another soul lost evermore.
She's still broken, this soul of mine.
Every hour, every tick and click.
Cracked, split, broken.
Never to be healed.
My love does not belong
behind closed glass or hidden in song.
But I fear I've lost, my muse is drowned.
By waves of sea, so mote it be.
Until home she stays.
From stolen glances and parting gaze.
Just beyond the violet haze.
19th century writer, Edgar Allen Poe -
Romance and the macabre to his readers he would show.
Those who study literature likely know the poem “Lenore”
and that famous line of his: Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
I am in a dark room
with Edgar Allen Poe,
there is a blank wall
turned into a movie screen,
showing his life story,
a struggle of his life without glory.
Living life as a writer with a lonely pen,
hiking up a strenuous and bumpy trail,
macabre poetry and short stories written,
fell upon few and most with blind eyes,
as a poet and author he insisted to be read,
unfortunately providing him meager bread.
Dark shadows followed him wherever he went,
his essence of a cloak and dagger existence,
opening up a genre of mysteries and whodunnits,
known as the first writer of detective stories,
life was unforgiving for this enigma of a man,
he died at the age of forty not being his plan.
February 4, 2018
~Sonnet: Edgar Allen Poe
Today in history, great day you see
Not only we are celebrating MLK day,
But long ago, in a day like today;
Great poet Edgar A.Poe was born too
On a winter day to this world he came,
Both of his parents were actors,died young;
Born in Boston, great writer; poet b'came
Resided in England till few years sprung
Attended university back home 'gain,
For only a year he did it they claim;
Edgar's drinking, gambling, has seized his brain,
Back in Boston his first book, brought him fame.
His fame as great author, poet, spread wide,
In Baltimore,Edgar Allen Poe, died.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2010
October.28.2015
Author Notes:
The "MLK" stands for Dr. Martin Luther King's day.
Edgar Allen Poe
Shocked the world with darkened prose.
To form in minds the various frights
And keep them waking through the nights.
I think I was injected with something evil when I was an embryo.
Because I was quickly rejected for my dark path following Edgar Allen Poe.....
Mr. Poe Inspired the push of my writing pen.
I've admired every one of his works over and over again.
"The Raven" sent chills down the very core of my spine,
But that poem left me wanting more, like food for a canine!
"The Fall of the House of Usher" was dark and so damn twisted.
Had me looking for that ghost in the trailer park that never existed!
"The Black Cat" begin to train and inspire me.
I emerged from my domain and entered the fire for eternity!
So finally it begins the deep rage within.
His poetry pushed my writing pen and I carried around an evil grin!
*Written for Amy Greens contest "Wow me with inspiration"
We never met
unlike in my dreams on a moving jet
shrouded in the blackness to come
counting the dead on my fingers and thumb
a toast to you and your etiquette form
a roast to you and forget the norm
for we love the void
we live in the void
the Moors are calling
and to our death we are falling
til we meet in the pit of blackness
I will write of your greatness.