Thursday, April 7, 2011

April - National Poetry Month

I had no idea!

This is very exciting for me, as I've been putting some poetry on my writing (secret) blog.
And... Just last night I was thinking about my favorite poet, the mystery of a man that was Edgar Allan Poe.
I know, he's a weird choice, but he's so quirky and strange and wrote such great, creepy stories!
But really, it's his rhyming that has always captured my heart. I love the rhythm, the tempo, the beats to his words.
Here are some bits of his poetry, some of the ones I love.
From Annabel Lee:
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea:
But we loved with a love that was more than love -
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
From The Bells:
Hear the sledges with the bells -
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night!
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the heavens seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells -
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.
Ahhh, just the beginning-- read the rest for the whole story of the bells. So many sounds, so many stories.

Not rhyming, but still amazing...From The Tell-Tale Heart (we had an awesome English teacher in 7th grade ((Mr. Ferraro)), who had us memorize the beginning of this story, and my sister still shouts the opening lines anytime I say Poe's name):
TRUE! --nervous --very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses --not destroyed --not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily --how calmly I can tell you the whole story.
Oh my gosh. I love that story. I love that you are so convinced right from the start of his madness as he tells you he's not.

And of course, I'll quote The Raven, evermore. (Same English teacher had us memorize this poem -- in its entirety? I can't remember. But he was a great teacher. Always so excited about this stuff):
`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 raven, `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 maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
Oh, Lenore....

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