For my creative Edgar Allan Poe log, I wrote a poem mimicking Poe's style, using some of his lines and some of my own. I'm very proud of the result. :)
The Tale of a Dying Man
A dying man, lost in the street,
His clothes askew, his manner wild—
He rambles in a maddened heat
That life too oft hath been defiled.
His voice doth quake with frightful force
For one so near his dying breath.
In his pained visage, clear remorse
Doth triumph over waiting Death.
Presently, I heard a slight groan; (The Telltale Heart)
Was he not consequently damned? (The Duc De L’Omelette)
I knew it then to be my own
Heart sighing for the piteous man.
Ever since the first slight noise
When (The Telltale Heart) that soft groan escaped my lips
The dying man fixed on my voice
And beckoned with his fingertips.
“Madmen know nothing (The Telltale Heart) yet you see
I’m wizened with the years.
Come take my hand, and sit with me,
My life’s tale incites many tears.”
He was born one cold wintry day,
However troublesome, or distressing (Loss of Breath)
His birth from marriage led astray—
A bastard son without a blessing.
“The birth was treacherous and long,
From this I knew I’d ne’er recover,”
He was despondent, his face drawn—
“My life took that of my poor mother.”
Sure, I knew what the old man felt (The Telltale Heart)
To be left lonely, so forlorn—
Reminiscing, at his side knelt—
My own mother passed when I was born.
“An orphanage became my home;
‘Twas there that I grew used to fighting.
Without a thing to call my own,
My only solace was my writing.”
I thought, “A mystery, and a dream (Imitation)
Could not be so alike as these—”
So now should my early life seem (Imitation)
Quite startling ambiguities!—
For I too found my poet’s soul
As an escape from misery—
My torture was my fellows’ goal,
An orphanage my history.
He cleared his throat to speak again
“I had a business venture fail:
It lost me all my money, then
Debtors imprisoned me in jail.”
“I was set free by my true love,
With her letters, I was kept sane,
She paid my due; thank lord above,
And saved me from exquisite pain.”
“Then once my freedom was ensured,
We reunited once again,
And I found that her heart was pure
With love for me, her dearest friend.”
“We married and lived happily
In a cottage near the river;
My heart was broken verily—
Oh why, why, must I outlive her?”
“When found I her wet lifeless form
My grieved soul, my hopeless sighs,
Would trade that river for endless storm
To gaze on her large lustrous eyes (The Assignation).”
With her departure he received
Considerable injury (Ms. Found in a Bottle)
He wandered, aimless, and believed
In naught but writing poetry.
But poems blotted with fresh tears (The Assignation)
Could not prevent the sleeping screams—
“Her eyes I saw in waters clear,
And lurked in all my nightly dreams (The Assignation).”
“Why preyest thou […on] poet’s heart, (Sonnet—To Science)
Life, thou evil natured swine?—
My time is short, I must impart
Some knowledge of higher design.”
“Ill-fated and mysterious man— (The Assignation)
I started but he did impair:
“I knowest thy fate, ‘tis mine, ‘twill span
A life of sorrow and despair.”
He spoke of many troubling things
And his words shook me to the core—
“How knowest thou what my future brings?—
Tell me truly, I implore! (The Raven)”
“You and I are one and same,”
He whispered with a solemn smile
Sorrow shall consume all, like flame,
You soon shall see in a short while.”
I was stupefied and aghast,
I had myself no power to move (The Assignation)
I was he in decades past?
The identity he needs must prove!
The man is surely mad! (The Gold Bug) thought I,
“Tell me plainly,” I tensely cried—
But I’ll ne’er know if ‘twas a lie—
He, tired, gave a sigh, and died.
