Poe’s sonnet

Long years I stared deep in the empty cave
Where once had nested thoughts of wants and dreams
I tried to pin their shadows to the page
I gathered up their feathers for my ink

I sat in hollow darkness as I penned
But every smeared black word I wrote was rote
A kiss of memory’s smoke upon the tongue
A bitter tinge of longing in my throat

I fell despondent with the creep of time
No bright bird came to cheer me with it’s song
Til I dismissed their colors and their lilt
As if I didn’t long for it at all


Until one night a raven came to sing;
The moonlight shone all colors on his wing