Edgar Allan Poe January Celebrations Wind Down

News in the final week of our January celebration of the 200th birthday anniversary of Edgar Allan Poe should not go unnoticed. Here are a few items of interest in our treasure hunt for all things Edgar Allen Poe.

Read more about the debate that took place in Philadelphia during last week’s 200th anniversary of Poe’s birth. What could they be debating? How about which city should rightly claim Poe’s reputation? I’m torn between the two cities where his soul was tortured and of course perhaps a city where he might have been happy…Poe happy, not tortured…what was Poe’s quote about a dream again?

The New York Times celebrates Poe in words and pictures.

Read National Post’s Jonathan Kay on Edgar Allan Poe: Half way between schlock artist and literary great.

And if you wanted the answer to an earlier question I asked this month about what music Poe would appreciate here is an excellent article on the impact Poe has had on music. Read Two Creepy Centuries of Edgar Allan Poe.

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6 comments

  1. jodapoet says:

    I’m bummed Poe month is over. On another note I love the new look.

  2. writelyapplied says:

    Have no fear, I have a plan. We will be celebrating Poe throughout the year! More on that in an upcoming post.

  3. writelyapplied says:

    Look for a monthly post on Edgar Allan Poe news for the 2009 birthday celebrations. I’ll post on the 19th of each month.

    Everybody feel free to submit a link if you discuss Poe this year and I’ll get it in my monthly post. Please see Footnotes posted on January 31st for more information.

  4. jodapoet says:

    That is awesome. I’ll have to do more Poe posting. Great idea!

  5. ED ZIRKWITZ says:

    my takeoff on the raven by Ed Zirkwitz

    The Haven

    Once upon an evening early, while I pondered not so clearly
    Over the quaint and curious thought of needed exercise and more
    While I thought that, nearly grasping, suddenly there came a gasping
    As of some voice gasping, gasping at the guilt I bore
    ‘Tis just some guilt pang, I muttered, gasping at my guilt I bore
    Only this and nothing more

    Ah, distinctly, I remember that it was in late December,
    That each separate guilt pang made its way into my mindset
    Eagerly I wished the thought end; plainly I had fought the portend
    Of procastination’s sorrow; sorrow for the last time Fit
    For that rare and radiant body whom the wife called Fit
    Nameless here for evermore.

    Yes the former bulging muscles, rippling due to strong corpuscles
    Thrilled her, filled her with fanastic thoughts of once before
    So that now, to still the beating heart, I stood raving
    ‘Tis some thought annoying at this guilt I bore
    Some late thought annoying at this guilt I bore
    That it is, and nothing more.

    Presently my mind grew stronger; procrastinating then no longer,
    Ed, said I, or Ego, truly your permission I implore;
    But the fact is I was gorging, and so gently you came forging,
    And so softly you came scratching, scratching at the guilt I bore
    That I scarce was sure I heard you, here I opened wide the door,
    Darkness there and nothing more.

    Deep into my deep subconscious, thought while there, haunted, nauseous
    Doubting nor dreaming I would be fit like as before
    But the thinking stayed unbroken, and my thoughts remained unspoken
    And the only word there spoken was the whispered word “before”
    This I whispered and an echo sounded back the word “before”
    Merely this and nothing more.

    Back did I return to conscious and my gut no longer nauseous
    Soon I hear a scratching, scratching somewhat louder than before
    Surely said I, surely there is something worthwhile in my forehead
    Let me see then, what therein is, and this fantasy explore,
    Let my heart be still a moment and this fantasy explore
    ‘Tis the wind and nothing more

    Then I looked I at motivation, to get closer to creation
    In there stepped memories of the active days of yore
    Not just once did I run on, to complete a half a marathon
    And without a hesitation, perched without the guilt I bore
    Perched upon a cloud of Cirrus, well beyond the guilt I bore
    Perched and sat and nothing more.

    Then a motive said stop crying, get a move on stead of sighing
    Or soon looking back see a wife dressed in black she wore
    “If your thoughts be to live long, life is more than just a sad song
    Stop your gorging, couching, raving and the nightly feast galore
    Tell me what the plan is, not to imbibe, in those treats galore
    Qoth, while raving, ‘Nevermore’

    Much I marvelled that I could see, days with much activity
    Though many trips to Lewis weight room, could be such a bore
    When we first start exercising, it’s hard to get the dumbbell rising
    Ever yet be blessed seeing motives above the guilt I bore
    Rhyme or reason in the forehead above the guilt I bore
    With such name as ‘Nevermore’

    But the motives that once sat lonely, in the forehead and spoke only
    Just a few words, as if those words need be an outpour
    Nothing further needs be uttered, extra words are feathers fluttered
    Till you scarcely only mutter, ‘so many have done this before’
    On the morrow think not for me, as my hopes have flown before
    Then the ‘bird’ said nevermore.

    Startled by old habits broken, my reply, So aptly spoken
    Doubtless, said I, positive thoughts will I restore
    Caught from some unhappy master, who wanted just to see disaster?
    Day after day, week after week, lethargy was the burden I bore
    Till I had no urges of hope; ‘why bother’ was the burden i bore
    Of ‘Never-nevermore.’

    But my motives still beguiling all my countenance to smiling
    Straight I packed to fill gym bag and place it by the door
    And though my runners stinking, I betook myself to thinking
    Fantasy unto fantasy, moved by successful deeds of yore
    What this grim, ungainly body was ‘cause of deeds of yore
    Meant in croaking ‘Nevermore’

    In the weight room sitting guessing, will this lifting be depressing
    To the observing fiery eyes; now burning into my buttock’s core;
    This and more I sat reclining, should I start or sit there pining
    On the bench’s leathery lining, that the other patrons sweated o’er,
    But whose ebony leathery lining with the patrons sweating o’er
    He shall bench press, ah, nevermore

    Then, I thought get through the workout, that way you can end with no doubt
    That Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkle originate the gasping at the guilt I bore
    Wait, I cry, thy God has sent thee- by these angels he has sent thee,
    Respite – respite, nepenthe from memories of the guilt I bore
    Drink, oh drink this kind nepenthe, and forget this guilt I bore
    Qoth the raven, ‘Nevermore’

    But the motives, never flitting, still are sitting, still are sitting
    In the mind and in the forehead to obscure the guilt I bore
    And their value all the seeming of a spirit that is dreaming
    And the spotlight on them streaming kills the shadows on the floor
    And my soul from out that shadow that lay once upon the floor
    Shall be lifted ‘Evermore’

  6. writelyapplied says:

    Thank you Ed, that is incredible. I was writing one similar on if the Ravens would make it to the Super Bowl but didn’t actually get it down on paper.

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