The Chime at my Door

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A homage to the poetry of Poe

Submitted: November 27, 2014

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Submitted: November 27, 2014



Twas past midnight when the bell gave chime

and the candles burn and flicker with time

I gorge on cheese and sip my wine

whilst I shout to “open the door!”


As the cime rang again and again

my bellows raised the bars to ten

and my sipping of wine increases a then,

For heavens sake open the door!


Now this was a peculiar thing

my maids arent here, wifes drunk on gin

I suppose it is myself who wins,

the prize of opening the door


With a heave and a groan

I let out my moan

t’walk cross my canvas floor, to more.


As the candlelight flickers meek and less

the chill of a draught flows through my mess

and my wonder to whom I must address,

To whom stands outside my door?


What say you? Man, woman or child I shout

my figure looming tall and stout

and hearing sharp, but after listening much doubt,

There is anyone at my door?


My curious anger would next unfold

when I swang open forth and felt winds cold

to be left blank, proposterous its told,

There is knowone at my door?


With a creak and a close

nothing more here to show

as I cross my canvas floor, to more.


Less than ten steps I cross b’fore the chime

of my doorbell for a second time

Begone! wretched person! I shout this time,

To the cause that’s at my door.


Tis a jest, tis a joke!

tis a finger that pokes

Enough! or you’ll croak!

I gesture at my door



Then silence, but still a chill inside

I hope there is someone to confide

Confess! I say, dont run and hide!

Confess to ringing my door!


Out my mind these thoughts must grow

thoughts deep, that reap and sow

I turn back cross my canvas floor, to more


My hairs stand up, the mind on edge

once the dreaded chime repents

repents its voice on me and hence,

why I curse the sound at my door, the last straw!


No more polite manner of speech

for this unwelcome being, this morsal, this leech!

my shoulders were stiff and ready to reach,

To reach open at my door.


There was nothing more. 

© Copyright 2018 Ruben S J Faam. All rights reserved.

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