Janel's Place

I found this in my collection of forgotten laptop files. I believe this was done after that infamous committee meeting where in the space of two hours my "excellent proposal" was somehow transformed into a basket-case needing rewriting within 3 weeks. Poe was an old creepy man, but this poem is awesome, even with fly-room and rooster modifications. Very haunting. Why did the raven say "Nevermore"... only Poe knows.

Modified from Edgar Allen Poe’s “Nevermore”

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of published lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my fly-room door.
" 'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my fly-room door;
Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying larva wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost report,
For the rare and radiant ideas which the committee threw out the door,
Nameless here forevermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me---filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
" 'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my fly-room door,
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my fly-room door.
This it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my fly-room door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you." Here I opened wide the door;---
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word,
Report?, This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word,
"Report!" Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the fly-room turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before,
"Surely," said I, "surely, that is something at my window lattice.
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore.
Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore.
" 'Tis the wind, and nothing more."

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately rooster, of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But with mien of lord or lady, sat above my fly-room door.
Sat upon a crusted box of fly food, just inside my fly-room door,
Sat, and stared, and nothing more.

Then this rooster beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance he wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly, grim, and ancient rooster, wandering from the nightly shore.
Tell me what the lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore."
Quoth the rooster, "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning, little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his fly-room door,
Bird or beast upon the crusted food above his fly-room door,
With such name as "Nevermore."

But the rooster, sitting lonely on that placid box, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered;
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before;
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster, till his songs one burden bore,---
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never---nevermore."

But the rooster still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and box and door;
Then, upon the woven sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore --
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl, whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the chair’s woven lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose woven violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee -- by these angels he hath
Sent thee respite---respite and nepenthe from thy memories of that report!
Quaff, O quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost report!"
Quoth the rooster, "Nevermore!"

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted--
On this home by horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore:
Is there--is there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me I implore!"
Quoth the rooster, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil--prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that heaven that bends above us--by that God we both adore--
Tell this soul with sorrow laden, if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted thought, which the committee will not throw out the door---
Clasp a rare and radiant idea, which the committee will not throw out the door?
Quoth the rooster, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting--
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! -- quit the box above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
Quoth the rooster, "Nevermore."

And the rooster, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the crusted box of fly food just above my fly-room door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming.
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted---nevermore!