In Remembrance


Said the Devil with dread while the angel

simply read of Poe’s complete mastery of

the dead while imprisoned in one body

that of a man.


Edgar Allen Poe is dead in Baltimore

so they said with a sad announcement

on a dreary Sunday morning one

October 7th chilly day of mourning

this great Poet.


So few they say grieved over his

passing though startled not many left

their posts to take a notice only the

lonely Raven cawed for this Poet

lost by many.


Friends he had few and regrets even

fewer for this star that dimmed and

lost its full sparkle so erratically by

fathers and brothers without his

kind of reputation.


Poe was at times almost immortal his

eloquence so fluid and modulated with

unparalleled skill and almost Raven black

eyes that darted and shot fiery into the

desperate eyes of onlookers who

watched with vigor as his face glowed

yet changeless in pallor.


His imagination as sharp as a razor’s

edge would cut to the core and blood

would flow in gushes of lines penned

and released frozen from his heart.

With imagery he drew from worlds

where no mortals could see into,

Poe had the vision of a genius let

mad to explore on earth while

his soul opened up the pit’s of hell.


His words were such of the gloomiest

and ghastliest kind and rejected all

forms of customary grandeur. Like a

chained wolf he ravaged all forms

of form and burst on the scene with

a sharply defined simplicity and

clearness set in mind.


Such wonderful creations he did

bestow upon the world most airy and

delicate was this sharp minded man

who left us spellbound and brought

his readers to their knees weeping

like lost children but wanting so

much more of this Poet and his passion.


A dreamer foremost was Edgar Allen Poe

who thrived and floated between Heaven

and Hell mystifying the logic with the

creatures that flashed from his brain

whilst walking the streets on the edge

of madness or melancholy he set the

stage for so many others to follow

with depressed souls.


His posture was usually moving

awkwardly with lips moving in frightful

quivering curses or prayers and eyes

upturned cursing the devil and all that

he damned with forsaken idolatry while

his heart was being gnawed from

invitation by the demons he

possessed within.


Braving the wildest stormy nights

he would walk drenched in his garments

of dread beating the winds and rain

while the portals of Hell opened

inviting him in yet rejection he did

afraid for those he would never

again see  him walk the doom of

death that lay at his door in the

House of Usher for evermore.


Poe like many of us Poets a single glass

of wine reversed our very nature and

we scribed with souls on fire intoxicated

with visible forces unknown we were

drawn to the edge some may call insanity

and insulting arrogance or gifted

genius what shall it be.


Vanity and depravity of ones love torn

from the open chest of a possessed

possibly demonized heart it changes ones

character and good or evil comes out in

a flurry of words so composed and laden

with blackest intoxication of truth and right.


The lamp was a light of poetry with a far

reaching beam that brought on a wave

of delightful pieces from a quill of a genius

at work darkened they may be through

the passage of time yet never forgotten

the honors and devotion Edgar Allen Poe

left us this legacy of love for his craft with

such human passion and bitter

affliction and recognition.


Let’s lift our glass to the scribe, the genius,

the misunderstood the master, let’s us speak

well of him forever until no end. In remembrance

of Poe, I walk by his grave with deep respect.  RIP my poet.


© Copyright Vincent Moore 2012. All Rights Reserved




In Remembrance — 2 Comments

    • This piece came from deep within, I felt Poe’s presence that eve, I let my heart and soul be taken over by my Muse and this piece is the result, In Remembrance of such a gifted poet, Edgar Allan Poe..and the stranger who attended his marker every year.

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