snowblind

Voices in My Head
2001-12-25 05:58:22 (UTC)

a little poetry between friends...

now i realize what i an about to share does not really fit
in with the holiday season, but i was reading alittle poe
and felt the need to share it with some one... and as i
am currently alone for the evening...

the conqueror worm
edgar allen poe

lo! 'tis a gala night
within the lonesome latter years!
an angel throng, bewinged, bedight
in veils, and drowned in tears,
sit in a theatre, to see
a play of hopes and fears,
while the orchestra breathes fitfully
the music of the spheres.

mimes, in the form of god on high,
mutter and mumble low,
and hither and thither fly-
mere puppets they, who come and go
at bidding of vast and formless things
that shift the scenery to and fro,
flapping from out their condor wings
invisible wo!

that motley drama-oh, be sure
it shall not be forgot!
whith its phantom chased for evermore,
by a crowd that seize it not,
through a circle that ever returneth in
to the self-same spot,
and much of madness, and more of sin
and horror the soul of the plot.

But amid the mimic rout
a crawling shape intrude!
a blood-red thing that writhes from out
the scenic solitude!
it writhes! -it writhes! -with mortal pangs
the mimes becomes its food,
and the angels sob at vermin fangs
in human gore imbued.

out-out are the lights-out all!
and, over each quiverin form,
the curtain a funeral pall,
comes down with the rush of a storm,
and the angels, all pallid and wan,
uprising, unveiling, affirm
that the play is the tragedy, "man,"
and its hero the conqueror worm.


still feel like poetry? i have more... he, he, he... the
things you do in the midle of the night when your bored and
all alone...


a dream
edgar allan poe

in visions of the dark night
i have dreamed of joy departed-
but a waking dream of life and light
hath left me broken-hearted.

ah! what is not a dream by day
to him whose eyes are cast
on things around him with a ray
turned back upon the past?

that holy dream-that holy dream,
while all the world were chiding,
hath cheered me as a lovely beam,
a lonely spirit guiding.

what though that light, thro' storm and night
so trembled from afar-
what could there be more purely bright
in truth's day-star?


okay i think i'm done typing just for the sake of having
something to do, and pretending to have someone to talk to
tonight.


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