Quotations and Literature Forum

I was just finishing up a story of Poe's. After reading all of his poems and a few of his stories, I must admit, there's a question nagging at my mind. It is not in the regular "nagging" sense. This question has been at the back of my skull ever since I started my journy to completely memorize "The Raven". (This task is still not complete, a couple more stanzas left). The question is this:

WHY THE HELL CAN POE WRITE SO DAMN WELL AND I CAN'T?

I mean, you read his poems and they're filled with so much emotion (mostly despair) and you feel for this man. This man who lost his wife, and seems to dwell on her every day of his life. Poe is dead, yet I can still feel him through his writing.
But this is not why I started this thread. I would like to know at least one of two things from anyone who reads this. The first is the answer to this, "What is your favorite Poe story/poem?" (There are no right answers) The second is I want to know if there is anyone out there willing to share a poem that can rival E. A. P.'s. Don't worry, if you put it out there, I won't make fun of it. PLEASE HELP THIS THREAD SURVIVE!

I haven't read much of Poe's poetry, but from the few that I have read I really like The Raven..
and no I don't have any poem that can rival his writings! (yet )

Rana

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'One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life: That word is love.'
~Sophocles

The Raven is a classic, but I much prefer Israfel or The Conqueror Worm. My favorite Poe story has to be The Cask of Amontillado, it's both a classic revenge and a creepy fate. I think it's the kind of thing that does a great job of echoing the darkness that can enter the souls of men. You feel a bit of satisfaction when he gets revenge, but then you become aware of that satisfaction and realize just how sick that might be.

None of my few poems I've kept really fit with Poe, stylistically I'm a little too modern and thematically I'm not the right sort of disturbed. So, while I think one or two of my poems might be as good, they aren't really rivals because they're much too different from his.

Ahh, I must admit, I am dissapointed in the fact that no one thinks that they can rival Poe's poems. I must also admit that it's fair because I don't think any of my poems are anywhere near as good as his. My favorite Poe poem is a tie between "The Raven" and "The Bells". I like them both because they almost have a show-off affect of Poe. It shows he can write poems of great length but still have them flow into a coherent story. I particually like "The Raven" because of the rhyme scheme and the rhythm. But I like "The Bells" especially because of the way Poe is able to introduce so many different moods in a single poem.
Please continue to write about your favorite Poe story/poem. And I'm still waiting for that one brave person to put their poem on this thread. As I told you before, If you put it on the web, I won't bash it or make fun of it. I would simply like to read it.
Enough from me.

As always, Your loyal citizen "Codename V"

I like Poe if I'm in the right mood.

I like the Dream-related poetry and:
Annabel Lee
To Helen
Sonnet- To Zante

My favourite short stories are:

The Pit and the Pendulum (classic;))
The Premature Burial (pure horror- think Kill Bill 2)
The Masque of the Red Death (Phantom of the Opera anyone?)
Man of The Crowd (Nice twist)
Ligeia (I found this one the most haunting, as I recall)

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"The proper study of mankind is man."
Alexander Pope

I'd say my favorite is Annabel Lee...I find it exteremely satisfying as to how the poem manages to fully complete itself and leave you still wishing for more

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There is no good or evil there is only power, the power of love, justice, truth, and The Unexplainable, and those to weak to seek it shall become lost

I haven't read a whole lot of Poe's work, but the ones that stick out in my mind the most are: Annabel Lee, The Raven, The Gold Bug, The Fall of the House of Usher, and The Cask of Amontillado.

As for a poem, I'm not really sure if this rivals his but I'll give it a shot. I looked through alot of my poems, and found a few I thought you might enjoy. They are in chronilogical order, but there are more inbetween them.

I'm Not Who You Think
I will sit in the shadows to watch for you to arrive
Waiting to prey on the innocent of heart
You know who I am
Yet you would never suspect me to be
The monster you fear the most
I'm anything but the trusted person you think me to be
You cringe at my touch and the sound of my breath
I will make you turn and look over your shoulder
I'll make you think twice before setting outdoors after dark
Remember;
I sit in the shadows waiting for you to arrive

The Light
Running through a dark woods
This isn't where I'm supposed to be
Stranded all alone in this strange world
Waiting for a light to appear
The farther I go
The more the thought grows
There is no light here
The trees are moving closer
It's getting hard to breathe
I'm suffocating
And there's no one here to help
I have to stay calm
But that is so hard
When everything is so close to me
Grabbing at me
Look
Was that a light
No just a trick of my eye
When does it all end
When will I find an end to the cruelty
When will I be able to see
The light I'm waiting for

Traitor
My friendly knife
That has always been there for me
Fending off my enemies
Is no longer the friend
I thought it was
But is now a traitor
That will remain unforgiven
My enemies use it against me
Slowly pushing it into my heart
Watching the blood bloom
At the touch of the tip
And how it pours faster and faster
The deeper they push
Not really realizing what they're doing
Until;
It's too late

Death, I Want Life
Death beckons me
To go to him
And become
His maiden
His queen for eternity
His gaze is hypnotizing
Calling me to do and be
Something I'm not sure I want
He whispers in my ear
Everything I've waited to hear
"I'll make you happy."
"Give you everything you want."
"Give you freedom."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes," he whispers
this is too good to be ture
In death I would be a slave
Nothing but what he want me to be
I don't want that
"Death, I can't do it."
"Why?"
"You can't give me what I want."
"What is it? I can give it to you."
"I want LIFE!"
Silence
"Death? Are you there?"
Silence
He left me
Said he'd always be there
I'm happy now
No longer confused
Don't have that voice
Whispering to me at all hours
I know what I want
I want life

Balance
Crimson handprints
On the white wall
Crimson flower
Blooming from my chest
Grab the knife
You put it there
I pull it out
Sprays of crimson
On the black floor
Crimson smeared face
Tears wiped away
Dancing to
The slowing rythm
Heart beat barely there
Smearing handprints
Pool on floor
find the balance in it all
In the white wall
And the black floor

Perform
Curtain rises
Play begins
Moving through
Unplanned motions
No one
Really watching
Curtain falls
Waiting for
The applause
Realizing
No one saw
But only because
Performings
What people do

Please let me know if any of these fit what you are looking for.

_________________
Look me in the eyes
Tell me no more lies
Tell me why this must be
Torture to me

~Kosra~

I think the reason so few people could even try to rival Poe (not commenting on the previous post, btw. I didn't read it all through atm. Headache and all -.-. Will later though), is that he was deeply hurt, and not just the classic "I'm depressed, the world sucks" kind of hurt, but the "I lost the love of my life" kind of hurt. Its that form of deep emotion that follows men. Its not hard to look at people, and see how hard their lives have been to them fully. I know alot of people who act like they are really messed up, but you look at them and there is that light in their eyes that tells you otherwise.

Poe was deeply troubled, and he is also (I think because of the loss of his wife. My Poe history is kind of rusty) a literary genious. Not like most modern writters who's goal is quantity instead of quality (I know I'll get flamed some for this, but Tom Clancy borders on this, Stephen King...), and what he wrote he FELT.

That makes the world of diffrence...

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With coarse rice to eat, with water to drink, and my bended arm for a pillow - I have still joy in the midst of these things. Riches and honors acquired by unrighteousness are to me as a floating cloud. ~Confucius, The Confucian Analects