Jack Black - October 25, 2022
Would Edgar Allan Poe, in the cold rainy weather
sitting at his desk with ink and feather,
have written of such bleakness in the morning glow
on a clear pleasant day, when the sun would show?
Would old Mr. Poe have written much brighter?
Would he have scrapped the dark themes for a moral much lighter
if he awoke to the rustle of daisies on his door
and not to the screams of his mind's sleeping horror?
Would the madman's heart have beat above the floor?
Would the raven have caw'd "forevermore"
if poor little Poe had his lunch with fine rum
instead of flat ale from a dirty old drum?
I grimace at the thought of a life behind bricks
and cringe at cruel murder by a man truly sick.
If only Poe had smelled the rose, that to him, his wife gave
before he placed it so soft on her grave.