Thoughts, a poem in the style of Edgar Allen Poe

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A little experiment I did after recently rereading one of my favourite pieces of writing; the raven by Edgar Allen Poe

Submitted: July 29, 2009

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Submitted: July 29, 2009




In the style of Edgar Allen Poe


Here I sit in darkest wonder, surrounded by silent thunder,

Wondering of times a sunder, times of loss and love and more.

Thinking here in my un-doing, and in my mind a bubbling brewing,

Thoughts together slowly queuing, waiting there and nothing more.


Here I am in shadow growing, lit by screen dimly glowing,

Writing out passage flowing, telling you of wounds so raw.

Darker pictures people staring, memories burning flaring,

That of those who are not caring, though I care forevermore.


Images of angels flying, feathered people sitting, crying,

While in the corner God lays dying, in a pool of absent gore.

Dreams sit, cursed, unthinking, surrounding eyes stare unblinking,

While lonely poets crouch there drinking, taking angels tears ashore.


Breaking waves crashing shatter, falling pieces bounce and clatter,

Upon the sand that I see flatter, flatter than ever before.

Still I wonder in dreams not real, all around me, words I steal,

From conversations more ideal, than the ones I had before.


But still I sit here, typing, thinking, within myself slowly sinking,

And all around the world is shrinking, moving further, more obscure.

And I stay silent, never moving, never trying, never proving,

Only standing, never doing, all the things I want and more…


And though the dark was before growing, now I see it slowly going,

The evil sun rising, showing, all its wicked grace galore.

But still I refuse to leave, and still I will not believe,

In those things I did not retrieve, those things I will never conceive,

And no one can tell me, what to be, or what it is I really see,

For I will never simply be, the man I was that time before…

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