ehowton (ehowton) wrote,

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Attempting to be unencumbered, I read Poe before my slumber
Drift into uneasy sleep as comfort eludes me at every turn
I feel beseeched; troubled dreaming, unconscious attacks; hordes teeming
Restless thrashing I toss, I turn, images in my mind's eye churn
Ill-advised stories perhaps, for quiescence I deeply yearn
Frustration abounds, I never learn

At first I thought that I'd gone mad, when I awoke upon the slab,
That cold cobbled stone from upon whence I had no knowledge of before
I tried to stand, loudly creaking, instantly froze - someone sneaking!
Stooped in half, suddenly seeking, peeking up from the floor
And that's when first I saw a large omnipresent dark wood door
I'm sure it was then I swore

Unfamiliar lodgings inspect, for where I was could not conject
An eerie feeling of familiarity descended as I took in the room
That's when I saw the davenport, upon which several books stacked short
And quite suddenly it felt as if I were in a sepulcher, a tomb
A presence nearby, I felt; Feelings of impending doom
Over me, it seemed to loom

Taking all in, it became clear; a silent scream no one could hear
Eying a bust of Pallas above that frightening wooden door
Trapped in an imagination - I was facing Poe's eternal damnation
For whether she really was an angel or just some two-bit whore
I knew that soon I'd be face-to-face with the spirit of Lenore
Which chilled me to the core

No embers glowed in the hearth long dead, which filled me with imminent dread
During his darkest hour of grief and fixation of desire
Poe was visited by a crow, that oldest of omens though he did not know
So thusly claimed the monster a raven, craven images of death and fire
As it sat - sat and stared, decrying his allegorical ire
That evil black-winged flyer

I finally stood, stood and waited. Would my curiosity be sated?
Decreed a rare and radiant beauty by the man who penned her
Would she withstand time's test, for beauty's eye is at the beholder's behest
Centuries sweep past uncaring, cultures changing in a blur
Evolving, revolving that which was once desired may today deter
A voice behind me says, "Sir?"

Dare I turn and face the dead! Pallor desaturates; my color bled
Oh so slowly I turn around, frightened of what my mind hath wrought
Eyes shut tight in fear of pain, my life before me has been lain
Facing her now afraid of death, breath caught; I'm distraught
Lids still closed, with my conscience I wrestled and fought
Wide eyes fraught with tears, truth sought

Her emitted sensuality, surrounds every aspect of me
Inviting she stands, warmth radiates from her bosom as I submit
One weak step, collapse in her arms; emotion pours forth, free from harm
I weep upon her, I admit. She understands all of it
And comforts me with her eyes. To her wholly I commit
She accepts my intromit

Completely I surrender for I want to always remember
Taking her then and there on that warm stone floor
Or perhaps it was she who took me, drawing me between her knees
And though she gave me all, all I wanted was more
In the glow of the supernaturally ignited fireside decor
Satisfied nevermore
Tags: poem

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