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Ron Miller's DARK CORRIDORS VOL. 4, No. 34 |
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Poet Laureate of TheColumnists.com  |
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TROUBLED POETRY ON THE VINE
Pariah then,
a legend now,
The mystic, morbid Mister Poe
Lived as he died, a troubled man,
Exploding night and day with literary fantasies.
He wrote a poetry of tales macabre,
Of crazy plotters, sadists, ravens, and avenging torturers,
All weird and bleak and wonderf’lly bizarre
To exorcise the goblins in his mind (and ours),
The ones that set him buzzing, nearly mad,
Till drink took over as both cure and poison,
Killing him at barely 40.
His tomb itself is cloaked in mystery,
As every year a bottle of a vintage wine
Appears like magic at his grave
Upon his birthday’s dawn,
Deposited by hands unknown
That vanish ere the first light of the sun,
Without a trace or thumbprint left behind.
©2003 by Paul Hertelendy.
The signed Edgar Allen Poe portrait is courtesy of the website
of the Edgar Allen Poe Society of Baltimore.
Paul Hertelendy
is a critic with the San Francisco Bay Area arts website www.artssf.com
To visit his
website, click here: PAUL
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