The crow

parody of edgar allen poe's the crow only in this one he wants the raven back and the raven is laughing at him and sends a crow in it's place

 Once upon a twilight weary, while I wondered threw the beak and deary,

Over many a faint and furious volume of forgotten uproar,

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a rapping,

As of another gently tapping, tapping at my chamber door.

'Tis another visitor?,' I sputtered, rapping at my chamber door -

Again this!, another sore!.'

 

Ah, distinctly I remembered there was some meek embers,

And each separate annoying memoirs brought its host upon the door.

Eagerly I wished away the sorrow; - mainly I had sought to hollow

From my heart some ease from sorrow - sorrow for the lost ever more -

For the rare and radiant raven whom the angels named nevermore -

Tame less here in my very core .

 

And the silken mad I’m certain bustling of my head hurting

Drilled into me - killed me with bombastic errors I’ve knelt before;

So that how?, to fill the Deleting space inside my heart, I stood repeating

'Tis another visitor? trick or treating entrance at my chamber door -

Another late visitor trick or treating entrance at my chamber door; -

This again?, I want no more!,'

 

Hesitantly my goal grew wronger; hesitating then no longer,

Sir,' said I, or raven, truly your forgiveness I’d adore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so as if some stuck up gentry you came tapping,

And so quaintly you came rapping, rapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you' - There I opened wide the door; -

Larkness where?, and nothing more.

 

Deep into that Larkness hearing, not long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Shouting, deeming things that seem to be no more that seemed to be no more

        But the violence was broken, and the Larkness stayed unspoken,

And the only bird there spoken was the whispered word, Nevermore?'

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Nevermore?'

Clearly this and nothing more.

 

Back into the chamber turning, that deep hole within me burning,

Soon again I heard a rapping somewhat louder than before.

Surely,' said I, surely that is something again at my window lattice;

Let me see then, what threat is, and destroy this misery much more -

Let me be smart stay still a moment and dissolve my misery much more; -

'Tis that old sin and something more!'

 

Eloping fear I flung the shutter, when, with many hurt and stutter,

In there staggered a un shapley craven of the saintly days of yore.

Not the least dominance made she; not a minute hopped or played she;

But, like a queen or lord or lady, perched below on my dusty floor -

Perched upon all my mistrust and chalice just below my chamber door -

Perched, and sat, and always more.

 

Then this ebony bird beguiling my mad antsy into smiling,

By the brave and learned be one of the experience it saw,

Though thy best be horn and craven, thou,' I said, `art sure no raven.

Ghastly grim and ancient craven pondering from the lightly down pour -

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'

Quoth that crow the craven, `From inside your core.'

 

Much I marveled this un famely howl to bare discourse so insanely,

Though its answer a startling meaning - little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human seeing

Ever yet was messed with bleeding word from below his chamber door -

words that feast below the sculptured rust of my heart of his shame it bore,

With a name for me as` from inside your core.'

 

But that crow the craven, sitting lonely on the pallid crust, spoke only,

What one heard, as if he stole in that one word he did outpour.

Something further then he stuttered - not of weather then he muttered -

Still I scarcely more than uttered Other fiends have blown here before -

On my sorrow she will cleave me, of all happiness before.'

Then the bird said, from inside your core.'

 

Startled at it’s willness spoken by my reply so aptly woken,

`spoutless,' I cry, what it mutters in only its mock and uproar,

Fought from some sappy master whom merciful disaster

Hollowed Last and Hollowed Laster till his wrongs have burden bore -

Still the merges of his hope that melancholy burden wore

Of "from inside- from inside your core."'

 

But that crow the craven still beguiling all my mad and empty hole into smiling,

Almost late I kneeled un cushioned my feet in front of bird and dust and floor;

Then, beyond the twilight blinking, I took myself to thinking

Fancy unto fancy, linking what this anonymous bird of yore -

What this dim, ungainly, ghastly, haunt, and anonymous bird of nevermore

Meant in speaking `From inside your core.'

 

This I sat engaged in guessing, but sadly no syllable came expressing

To the howl whose wiry eyes now burned into my bosom's core;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at no ease declining

On the floors dirty lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,

But whose floors of dirty lining with the lamplight gloating o'er,

     she shall depress, ah, nevermore!

 

Then, I thought, the my stare grew denser, fumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls clinked onto the dirtied floor.

Wretch,' I cried again, `thy Raven hath lent thee - by these manglers he has sent thee

despite - despite the kindness I gave to Nevermore!

Quaff, oh quaff this unstable mind, and forget this lost Nevermore!'

Quoth that crow the craven, from inside your core.'

 

`Prophet!' said I again, thing of evil! - prophet of that, bird or devil! -

Whether Raven sent, or whether Raven lost thee here upon my door,

Desolate yet all un haunted, on this desert land I chanted -

On this lone by horror daunted - tell me truly, I implore -

Is there - is the Raven laughing at me or nor? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'

Quoth that crow the craven, `From inside your core.'

 

`Prophet!' said I, from thing of evil! - prophet still from  bird or devil!

By that Haven that sends below us - by the Odd we both adore -

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Raven,

It shall clasp a sainted Raven whom the manglers named Nevermore -

Clasp a rare and radiant Raven, whom the tangles named Nevermore?'

Quoth that crow the craven, from inside your core.'

 

Be that word our sign of starting, bird or dream!' I shrieked un parting -

from the dust wrought upon the floor

Leave me his black plume as a token of that spy of which you hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness broken! - Help me help me I implore!

Take thy master’s beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my floor?'

Quoth that crow the craven, from inside your core.'

 

And that crow the craven, never slitting, still is flitting, still is flitting

On the the dusty floor near dusty chalice just below my chamber door;

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,

And the Damp-Bright o'er her gleaming throws her shadow on the door;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the Door

Shall be gifted -  and I embrace my sweet nevermore!

Author's Note

all rights go to edgar allen poe for the original writing

Reviews

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

I am a big Poe fan and love the Raven... of coarse where most people thought it was death coming to take him I saw the raven as his love coming to watch over him till he could move on...

anyways this was a hysterical take on the classic... very cool write.

[just is]

I loved the Raven
It was will still is my favorite
all time story.
So this piece is just amazing
I like this alot