Ode to Edgar A. Poe / The Raven & Lenore

Ode to Edgar Alan Poe/ the Raven and Lenore




I began this poem actually when I was half a sleep. I was sitting in my room at my computer feeling rather sad as my father had developed cancer. I was surfing the internet when I came across a poet by the Name of Edgar Alan Poe, I read a few articles about how he lived and his life as a poet, I also happened to stumble upon some of his works. The one that caught my eye was a poem known only as "The Raven" it was then that my mind began to awaken, slowly but surely becoming aware of Mr. Poe’s genius. It was the next week that I decided to write this, I was totally enthralled by his work and I somehow connected with his deep and meaningful but bleak words. I used sections of his original poem as I felt they fitted into where I was going with it

And there I began…

In a crypt from long ago
This mixture I sipped becoming Poe.
My mind and feet they tripped as
I became Edgar Allen Poe.
With each sip my grew stranger
And as a consequence I fell in love with the darkest of danger
The ink I sipped though fowl tasting
Was in its self Poe, his spirit
I expected him back at any minute.
This Story was credited to Poe
Perhaps even spiritually edited by Poe.
One word was Fire the other Snow
This is the elemental world of, Mr. Poe

Twas now new morn and there I lay broken, and forlorn.
The Raven known to me as “Nevermore” was nothing but a dream, a ghostly figure sitting above my chamber door.
The sun was bright, the breeze was warm, and the dream was a dream and nothing more.
“There was nothing, absolutely nothing sitting on my chamber door.” I chuckled as I rose, stiff and achy my stance also quite shaky.
To be sure, to be sure I looked up above my chamber door and as always there sat the wan bust of Pallas staring blankly with out no malice.
I sighed with relief “Oh thank ye god you almighty one for being rid of the raven, devil, Satan known as Nevermore, and Lenore oh Lenore if only you had lain beside me then perhaps, oh yes perhaps the simple tapping the annoying rapping on my chamber door would never had plagued my mind for evermore.” And there as I spoke those words there came a tapping a simple, quiet rapping upon my chamber door
“Tis some visitor” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door only this and nothing more, unless, the craven crow, embodiment of boredom is back, bah, it can not be tis some visitor and nothing more”

As I remember it was still bleak December but to day was now the morrow that I eagerly awaited upon that night of sorrow “A wise man once said to me my dearest friend” I yelled to my tapping guest “The morrow is a new day, do you not agree, please come be seated with me shall we talk of things of finery” but strangely ever so strangely no one entered through my chamber door “Doth thou not hear me come in, come in!” and yet still no answer.
Presently my soul lost life, as I begged for my long lost wife
“Woe is me oh Lenore, why must one simply disturb me with that dammed taping that bloody rapping at my chamber door oh Lenore. The sainted maiden, whom the angels name Lenore you sit so, elegantly above my hearth staring in vacant silence for, evermore”

Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word,
Lenore?, This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word,
"Lenore!" Mealy this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me yearning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

“Lenore?” I asked the shadows “Oh Lenore, my dear Lenore” and there I sagged beneath my chamber door.
“Lenore!” I wailed “Lenore! Why must you torture me for evermore?”
In the corner of my eye there upon my one true loves knee there sat the scorn of my dreams the craven raven known to me as Nevermore, looking silently.
Quoth the raven “Nevermore.”
“Damn you!” I yelled “damn you to the deepest, darkest depths of fiery infinite hell!”
“Nevermore” I heard the words, “nevermore, nevermore, nevermore” thrice once more
“You!” I screamed “twas no dream, you are the torture of me, hath thou no soul nor remorse” and there with in my hand I held a blade, twas was cold and sharp it’s handle smooth, and with one swift move the deed was done the tapping the rapping had been silenced for evermore
My insanity had been lifted and there my soul now drifted I looked down upon my palms and there beheld the bloodied blade I felt a soft burring an even lighter yearning.
And there before I saw the angelic face of my Lenore.



By Simon Howard Isaacs