The following two poems pay tribute to Edgar Allen Poe. Poe was one of my father's favorite writers. My father had the most wonderful, deep and rich voice. I have very fond (albeit a bit scary) memories of him reading Poe to me and my sister.|
A Pocket of Poe
Years ago, when dreams were real
And I felt the first pain of love,
I discovered the sadness of tears.
I wished to capture in words
the essences of music –
So I read, and re-read Poe.
Now, years later,
With mile of memories of youth behind me,
And forgotten loves that no longer haunt me,
I visit his house in Philadelphia.
Lacking time to prepare appropriate sensitivity,
Yet wanting to be able to feel and experience,
I ring the bell
wait – forevermore,
And enter into a facsimile of the past.
“this hall used to be the garden,
and those stairs were never there.
This was his study. Of course
That’s not the actual furniture.
No, the floors have been changed.
except for that one spot
in the kitchen. Go up the stairs.
The glass separation on the left keeps you out
of his room, and up on the third floor
the glass separation keeps you out
of his dying wife’s room.
When you come down I’ll meet you in
the museum where you can see
original reproductions. The basement is terrific
but tourists are no loner allowed
As I leave the house, I go outside where
the original front door,
now sealed off, still remains intact.
I want to touch those
red bricks, but the fence keeps me away,
The door knocker is very old.
I wonder what sounds it use to make?
On the way back to my car, I pick up a pebble,
hold it till it shares the warmth of my body,
and put it in my pocket.
I smile –
Poe always led a tragic life.
Why should today be different.
It was on the last night of October
When the full moon brightened the sky,
And my somber feelings were heightened
When I heard the sounds of a wolf cry.
For I too felt like crying,
Sitting by the grave of Lenore,
Wishing she never had left me
As I wished each October before --
Waiting to see Lenore
Wanting to join Lenore
Wanting to hold and to kiss her once more!
And then, by the light of the moon,
A gossamer form seemed to rise
From out of the grave to greet me,
As a pale green light shone from her eyes.
Not a word did she utter that midnight --
Not a sound came from her lips
As she reached out to touch me
With her bony fingertips.
It was not her lips that kissed me --
Just a sharp bite underneath
My neck that I felt that midnight
As my blood still dripped from her teeth.
Was this ghoul my beloved?
Was this who I yearned for each day?
Was this my darling Lenore
Whose skin had rotted away?
Dear God, what is this abomination?
Is this a real curse or a dream?
I cried out that night in October
When she opened her mouth and she screamed!!!
A scream so loud and so piercing --
A sound never heard before --
Of a hundred wolves howling --
A sound I shall hear nevermore.
The sounds of a lonely Lenore
The one that I used to adore!
Before that fatal October
When I murdered my sweet Lenore
When she told me she was leaving
Didn't want my love anymore--
And as she opened the door
I reached for my knife and I killed he r--
As her dead body fell on the floor.
Wanting to keep Lenore
Wanted her just like before.
The grave that she left is now opened,
Waiting, as I had waited before
Never again to leave me --
She'll stay with me forevermore,
To dine on my soul every midnight --
Her revenge tastes much sweeter,
Now that I fear my Lenore
Now that I dread my Lenore
Wanting to be free of Lenore
Wanting her never again, My Lenore,
But I must stay with her, be with her
And the very last words I remember,
Is "Welcome to Hell" from the mouth of