Edgar Allan Poe

[Blackbird VIII]

Edgar Allan Poe is deifantely my favorite,but sometimes he is switched out of that spot for Stephen King.Well Ive been reading alot of his stuff over again for the past few days and was wandering which one of his stories all of you favored.My personel favorite is The Raven which I know is a very common one ,but its just too great.

[Fate]

For those of you who have never read "The Raven," the book that Hiro's talking about, here it is. It is pretty short, but very good!

The Raven

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`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.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!

-Edgar Allan Poe
==============================

I've heard that he created a murder story called The Tell Tale Heart. I've been wanting to read it, but I've never had the time. Has anyone read this book, and is it any good?

[Blackbird VIII]

Yes "The Tell Tail Heart" is a masterpiece and a must read for dark literature fans.There is also a 60s movie that really adapts it very well.However the book is of course far more rewarding to those who enjoy Edgar Allan Poes work.

[Fate]

Was the movie based off of the book by Edgar Allan Poe? What was the movie?

[Blackbird VIII]

Yah definately based off the story you dont have to worry about that.Well either one is good.

[Sinister]

The Cask of Amontillado is an excellent work, and probably my favorite. It was Edgar's answer to a slanderous contemporary author named Thomas Dunn English, in which he masks his and the author's identity, mocks him and then kills him quite soberly.

A nice footnote is that Edgar sued the editors who ran one of Thomas English's stories back to the stone age for libel. Court granted him near the sum of 300 dollars, including court costs. I believe Edgar and Thomas even got into a fist fight...

-Sin

[Fate]

Edgar Allan Poe wrote one of the best poems: A Dream Within A Dream.

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

[HUNK]

Ah yes, Edgar Allen Poe.

Mayhap my favorite poet of all time. My favorites are Cask of Amontillado, Tell Tale Heart, The Raven(Duh) and...well I cant remember the name but it was about a town that was suffering the wrath of the plague and the rich nobels wanted to forget about that so they threw a party. Little did they know but one of the guests was infected with the plague and went to get everyone infected. It was really cool and the book I had read it in had shown pictures of people's faces melting and really over-exagerating it but it was nice all the more....Quote the Raven nevermore. (He he he I made a ryme)

[Zardoch]

I use to have a book of all of his most famous poems when I was a kid. Kind of strange how much I enjoyed them. They're probably one reason I might be so sadistic sometimes as things like that don't really bother me.

Anyway, I thoroughly enjoyed them, though Edgar is probably the only poet I ever read since I never really was into reading poetry or books for that matter as a kid. In fact, it was because I wasn't as interested I got that and other books from an old nanny that sort of sparked my curiosity.

[Sinister]

H.U.N.K., You are thinking of the Masque of the Red Death. It was a magnificent short story. I used to have a tape of an audio rendering of that one and listened to it every night when I was ten and up, in place of a bedtime story.

I also had dreams about it, and weird stuff too, but anyway. I never get over how great Edgar's work is.

The poem Alone, basically describes my childhood and most of my life. He had a select appeal, but his work was so rare and strong that it carried over years. Truly a great man.

-Sin

[Materiathief00]

I'm a HUGE Poe fan! I actually memorized the entire Raven and The Haunted Palace from The Fall of the House of Usher!

[Treize]

I've heard that he created a murder story called The Tell Tale Heart. I've been wanting to read it, but I've never had the time. Has anyone read this book, and is it any good?

It is more of a short story rather than a book. It is only a few pages long. It is pretty good. I thought it was worth reading. Also you can read the majority of his works, including this one, online if you just type in the title and search google.

He is a pretty good author. I've only read a few of his short stories, but I liked them. My favorite would also have to be "The Cask of Amontillado." I enjoyed reading it and I think I might read it again sometime soon. I think he was one of the best authors of his time. I liked reading his short stories. They were interesting and do not take very much time to read.

[Led Zeppelin]

Oh I had to do a poetry unit on Edgar Allen Poe not too long ago >.>... My favourite our of his poems was "The Bells"

I

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.

II

Hear the mellow wedding bells -
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight!
From the molten-golden notes,
And all in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the Future! -how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells -
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!

III

Hear the loud alarum bells -
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of night
How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor
Now -now to sit or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
What a tale their terror tells
Of despair!
How they clang, and clash, and roar!
What a horror they outpour
On the bosom of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear it fully knows,
By the twanging
And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs and flows;
Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells -
Of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells -
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!

IV

Hear the tolling of the bells -
Iron bells!
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
In the silence of the night,
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy menace of their tone!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats
Is a groan.
And the people -ah, the people -
They that dwell up in the steeple,
All alone,
And who tolling, tolling, tolling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone -
They are neither man nor woman -
They are neither brute nor human -
They are Ghouls:
And their king it is who tolls;
And he rolls, rolls, rolls,
Rolls
A paean from the bells!
And his merry bosom swells
With the paean of the bells!
And he dances, and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the paean of the bells,
Of the bells -
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells -
To the sobbing of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,
As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the rolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells -
To the tolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells -
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.



I find this poem to be so beautiful in how Edgar represented the stages of life with bells... I know the the Silver Bells means childhood, the Golden Bells represent a weddings, Iron bells is for when you're sick and dieing... I find it too be one of his best works :]

[Terminus Est]

One of my favourite stories by Poe are The Murders in the Rue Morgue...quite intriguing and eloquent, the er..."conclusion" of this story is morbidly hilarious. XD You simply have to love it.

I also love The Tell-Take Heart and The Cask of Amontillado, both of these are quite frightening actually. They gave me goosebumps. Poe's ability to portray basic human emotions such as fear or guilt within his own dark literary style as initial premise is quite a feat...
Ms. Found in a Bottle is another great story, extremely bizarre, and sort of reminds me of the bit on the vessel when Dracula crosses over to England in Bram Stoker's classic, which always has freaked me out.

My favourite poem is The bells, quite an interesting concept, and one quite capable of invoking emotion...that said, English is not my first language, and at first, reading Poe for me was extremely difficult, because I was not able to get a hold of the type of writing and sentence construction which I suppose was common to use back then...let alone the concepts and ideas implied in his work...I could barely understand anything. Over the years though, I got better with this, and i most certainly command his work as magnificent.

I have also read about his life, it would appear then, that he is the Van Gogh of literature...quite a life he had indeed, a rather sad and pitiful one. :/

[Alpha]

Man I LOVE the Fall of the House of Usher, but not as much as I love The Pit and the Pendulum. The first time I read that, I went to sleep and woke up 2 hours later with a memory of the most horrific nightmare. The Spanish Inquisition... *shudders* ... This is all I think about when I hear that, and it still chills my spine.

Poe is amazing, 'nuf said.