Poe

So if I haven't talked it about it before (which kind of shocks me), I'll let the world know now how much I love Edgar Allan Poe.


My obsession began way back in my early teens and has not faltered since. There's just something about Poe. He's so dark and melancholy and, well, creepy... which is kind of comforting and homey to me.


(If you're not already thinking I'm a mental case, I'm sure that last sentence really convinced you)


My love for EAP has been so strong that I nearly named Bogart "Pluto" after the title character, "The Black Cat". 
I also almost named Bogart "Edgar". 
My iPad's name is "Poe".
My new iPod's name is going to be "Edgar", or "Annabel Lee" (after one of my favorites of his poems), or "Lenore" (from both "The Raven" and "Lenore").
I even have a room with photos of Poe in frames.
I used Poe stamps for our wedding invitations!


I guess it's pretty obvious that I'm just in love with this creepy dude.


"The Masque of the Red Death" and "The Oblong Box" are my favorite of Poe's short stories.
And of his poems, "For Annie" and "Annabel Lee", both of which I'll leave you with (as well as a few videos).

For Annie

Thank Heaven! the crisis -

The danger is past,

And the lingering illness

Is over at last -

And the fever called "Living"

Is conquered at last.

Sadly, I know

I am shorn of my strength,

And no muscle I move

As I lie at full length - 

But no matter! - I feel

I am better at length.

And I rest so composedly,

Now, in my bed,

That any beholder

Might fancy me dead - 

Might start at beholding me,

Thinking me dead.

The moaning and groaning,

The sighing and sobbing,

Are quieted now,

With that horrible throbbing

At heart: - ah, that horrible, 

Horrible throbbing!

The sickness - the nausea -

The pitiless pain - 

Have ceased, with the fever

That maddened my brain - 

With the fever called "Living"

That burned in my brain.

And oh! of all tortures

That torture the worst

Has abated - the terrible

Torture of thirst

For the napthaline river

Of Passion accurst: -

I have drank of a water

That quenches all thirst: -

Of a water that flows,

With a lullaby sound,

From a spring but a very few

Feet under ground - 

From a cavern not very far

Down under ground.

And ah! let it never

Be foolishly said

That my room it is gloomy

And narrow my bed;

For a man never slept

In a different bed - 

And, to sleep, you must slumber

In just a bed.

My tantalized spirit

Here blandly reposes,

Forgetting, or never

Regretting its roses - 

Its old agitations

Of myrtles and roses:

For now, while so quietly

Lying, it fancies

A holier odor

About it, of pansies - 

A rosemary odor,

Commingled with pansies - 

With rue and the beautiful

Puritan pansies.

And so it lies happily,

Bathing in many

A dream of the truth

And the beauty of Annie -

Drowned in a bath

Of the tresses of Annie.

She tenderly kissed me,

She fondly caressed, 

And ten I fell gently

To sleep on her breast - 

Deeply to sleep

From the heaven of her breast.

When the light was extinguished,

She covered me warm,

And she prayed to the angels

To keep me from harm - 

To the queen of the angels

To shield me from harm.

And I lie so composedly,

Now, in my bed,

(Knowing her love)

That you fancy me dead -

And I rest so contentedly,

Now in my bed,

(With her love at my breast)

That you fancy me dead - 

That you shudder to look at me,

Thinking me dead: -

But my heart it is brighter

Than all of the many

Stars in the sky,

For it sparkles with Annie -

It glows with the light

Of the love of my Annie -

With the thought of the light

Of the eyes of my Annie.

Annabel Lee

It was many and many a year ago,

In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

By the name of Annabel Lee;-

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

Than to love and be loved by me.

She was a child and I was a child,

In this kingdom by the sea,

But we loved with a love that was more than love - 

I and my Annabel Lee - 

With a love that the winged seraphs of Heaven

Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,

In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud by night

Chilling my Annabel Lee;

So that her high-born kinsmen came

And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulchre

In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,

Went envying her and me;

Yes! that was the reason (as all men know,

In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud, chilling 

And killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love

Of those who were older than we -

Of many far wiser than we - 

And neither the angels in Heaven above

Nor the demons down under the sea

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee: -

For the moon never beams without bringing me

dreams

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride

In her sepulchre there by the sea - 

In her tomb by the side of the sea.

Vincent. A short film by Tim Burton, narrated by the amazing Vincent Price, including Poe reverences.


The Raven, as read by James Earl Jones