The Importance of Seeing Poe

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Once upon a marvelous day as I was bound about my way,

An extraordinary dream passed across the vision of my eye.

Once inside this inclination, overwhelmed with exhortation,

I felt as if this observation spoke the truth and would not lie.

I vow to you this honestly.  I pledge it true least I should die,

                                                This I swear not knowing why.

 

I saw a man, I viewed his mind.  His words were dark yet he was kind.

A passion flowed inside his truthful and implicit human sigh.

I almost fought this apparition, fearing it hallucination.

Then I had a revelation.  Knowing this, I said good-bye.

I said farewell unto my fear of this vaporous man so nigh.

                                                Yet again, not knowing why.

 

I lingered closer, closer still.  Somewhere beyond my strongest will,

I found the strength to lend my ear and hear the suffering of his cry.

I departed not the situation but felt a sense of obligation

To fairly seek examination, and understand, as only I

Could comprehend this valiant man and his intrepid mortal sigh.

                                                         He then looked unto the sky.

 

I spoke “Hello” unto this ghost who in return proposed a toast.

But I sensed a sorrow coming from the tone of his reply.

I looked at him with reservation and with no further hesitation,

(For I knew my destination) I said to him, “Please tell me why;

Why have you chosen for this task a humble woman such as I?”

                                                       Still he looked unto the sky.

 

I spoke these words, “Please look at me.  A famous man I want to see.”

But in his answer rang a truth, “Do not you see, no fame have I?

I sit alone in contemplation and ponder why such indignation 

has put me in a situation where I am left alone to die.

Listen well unto my words, I speak the truth, I will not lie

                                                   I have chosen now to die--

 

My life will soon be ending.  My countenance requires tending.

I must therefore seek the manner as to implore my last good-bye.

I have chosen isolation for this toxic situation.

I’ll ignore humiliation as through the old man’s blinded eye

And sequester one last triumph before ascension to the sky.”

                                                              Once again I wondered why…

 

Why such a man just at his peak would think of life as now so bleak,

And yearn for one last living breath to conquer now, his last reply.

I then yelled with much frustration, “Renounce your great imagination!

I hope a stench of condensation stays with you until you die.”

A puzzled look then stained this man and he alone began to cry.

                                                     Then he breathed a heavy sigh.

 

 

The words I spoke I did regret, but all too soon he did forget.

A Raven perched upon a post and caught the gleaming of our eye.

“Ah!”  He said, “Communication from the bird of information.

It’s a sign of confrontation; the Days of Yore are in his cry.

Can you hear the echo of Lenore croaking deep within his cry?

                                                   It speaks of the days gone by.”

 

 

He looked abreast while leaning, provoking thoughts that had new meaning.

Then he spoke unto the Raven sitting on the post near by.

“I implore your true intention!  Speak, thou bird of ebony dissention

And give your credit of invention to the poet, mainly I. 

I say swear upon your blackened crest, give true merit, don’t be shy,

                                                                   To the poet, mainly I.”

 

I heard the fowl from the Days of Yore croak the phrase of “Nevermore.”

And after setting wings to fly, took ascension to the sky.

Edgar fought a deep depression, for on his face a bare expression

Took the place of his profession.  No longer would his thoughts comply

To a simple sound or written phrase.  No more words — far or nigh.

                                                       “None,” he said, “No more have I.”

 

My heart was filled with passion to view a man in such a fashion,

And to ponder now his reasoning for such a laden measure – Why?

Why such a vast imagination would linger now in meditation,

Searching for a situation to end a melancholy sigh.

“If you think you’ve been forgotten, you’re simply incorrect,” said I.

                                                        “Please, for me, get up and try.”

 

I saw the look upon his face and knew it wasn’t now my place,

To reason to a broken heart whose shattered dreams would soon comply

To the final confrontation inside his futile obligation.

And with no further explanation I understood the reason why,

Why now this providence in time was to be seen by my own eye!

                                                       Then I breathed a heavy sigh.

 

 

The reason for this flash of light was so that others one day might

Comprehend the cause of the mysterious way this man did die.  

It seems his inspiration had a mistaken reputation,

And no appreciation had been revealed by one human eye.

He then spoke as would a friend unto the woman such as I.

                                               “On your heart you must rely….

 

I thank you for your faith and trust, but now you know I simply must

Unearth the path which leads unto my sweet Virginia in the sky.”

With a hint of reservation, he waved me on,—“Imagination,

Creative innovation, is the key to a poem.  ‘Trust!’ ‘Rely!’— 

Now on about your merry way to ponder on these words from I.”

                                                    And he waved to me good-bye.

 

My desire was then to stay, but I took the path of my own way,

And I never shall forget the presence of that vision in my eye.

I had a fresh appreciation from the man of inspiration.

This gave me new foundation to know his words would now comply

To all the words that would be written by the woman such as I.

                                                          I then looked unto the sky.

 

I saw his spirit flowing; where it went I’m left not knowing,

But I’m sure it lingers close for my mind is such I can’t deny

The lack of concentration it takes for my imagination 

To create the duplication of discerning thoughts that only I

Would see.  For I have seen the reason why this famous man did die. 

                                                         This I swear, I do not lie.