Nevermore

 

 

 

 Loosely based upon “The Raven” by Edgar Allan Poe

 

 

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Pyotr Tchaikovsky “Op. 39, No. 7 (The Sick Doll)”

 

 

 

 

Nevermore
Lamenting thoughts be dressed
Life means something more when there is nowt left to contest
In the eye of tempest
With my hopes washed up ashore
Remembered there is no last breath worth dying for

 

Nevermore
Will stream of lamp-light o’er me throw shadow to the floor
Will I be turned down napping by a rapping at my chamber door
‘Tis volume of forgotten lore
‘Tis only this and nothing more

 

Nevermore
To implore misspoken writ of omened flaws
Surcease of sorrow—Eagerly awaited morrow’s spore
The flowers in my bones denote the bloom of lost Lenore
Underneath the beaded gaze of heeded bird of yore

 

Nameless not forevermore
The Raven shall be lifted every listless burden bore
Unmerciful disaster
Nowise stocked and stored hereafter
As it perches on the only keepsake rafter
Not a feather fluttered
Not a spent endeavour uttered
For the dying embers flourish in its wake
To hear discourse so plainly
No remorse for stillness broken
Are the words aptly unspoken
Doubtless evermore embrace

 

Nevermore
Will fiery eyes burn into bosom’s core
Seraphim fields
Claim the richest of yields
For this prophet still life no venture implores
Thrills me and fills me with spill my veins sought
For I bleed to concede no divorce

 

Nevermore
Grim, ungainly, ghastly, and gaunt
Nevermore flitting, still is sitting, upon the bust of Pallas; bidding just above my private chamber door
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Is now lifted of a midnight dreary—weak and weary

 

 

 

 

Richard Charles Stevens

 

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

 

 

 

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1 Comment

  1. Soul on the floor now lifted, weak and weary – ready to begin to blossom right under the nose of those cockroaches! Beautifully written and a wonderful ode to Poe’s work of which I need to read more of. Always here, your Mouse/

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