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Raven of war

by jacks_domino 

Posted: 28 July 2006
Word Count: 357
Summary: an adaptation of the amazing 'The Raven' by edgar allen Poe!


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Once upon a midnight dreary,
while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a stench and sepia crust of routine war,
Awesome terror, slowly creeping,
suddenly here was seeping,
As of reapersí haunted creeping, seeping tragedy of war.
"This old visitor," Iím thinking, "Much cruelty has been before-
Shall it pass as nothing more?"
No, again we will remember, it not only in December,
But decades of December, rotting ghosts of rhythmic war.
Desperately we hope tomorrow,
dampens embers of such sorrow,
Ends such blood spilt to this sorrow- sorrow for the loss of war-
For the lost and unforgotten, whom our habit takes to war-
Nameless here for evermore.
And the wrenching, sad uncertain ending of each soldiered son
Killing- such filling with fantastic terrors somewhere felt before;
Even now, we hear the beating of the rhythm, death repeating,
This old visitor to our witness, strangled curse of war-
Some dark visitor do we witness strangled curse of war;-
This is pain, and nothing more.
Canít we cease this conquering anger; hesitating such no longer,
"Here," say I, "here and now, surely we can bolt this door;
But the terror still is creeping, and so stagnant it is seeping,
And engulfing it comes seeping, creeping echoes heard before,
Echoes from the wandering lost- wandering lost from sullen war;-
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into this darkness peering, long we stand here wondering,
fearing,
Choking on the filth and fumes that war has brought before;
But the hate is yet unbroken, though dreams of peace are spoken,
Even spoken louder, clearer, than choking cries of war.
But war is whispered, and down to habit, we heave open its door-
Merely hate, and nothing more.
And this Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pastel fields of darkened, drenching war.
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And the souls under his shadow that lie floating on the floor
Shall be lifted- nevermore!

If you have not read the original, you can find it here:http://www.comnet.ca/~forrest/raven.html






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Comments by other Members



Beanie Baby at 20:56 on 02 August 2006  Report this post
This is really something. It has a quiet desperation to it that really touches and would lend itself well ( I think) to a performance poetry slot. I have not read the original as yet but I will check it out - I thought I'd comment on yours first without any bias.

Love the whoile thing but think theses lines are my favourites:

And this Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pastel fields of darkened, drenching war.
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;


Fatastic piece of work - 10 out of 10!
Beanie

jacks_domino at 12:23 on 03 August 2006  Report this post
hey thanks Beanie,

well...i can only take a small amount of credit...especially for the rythm of this piece...that's all his fantastic work.

Most of the words are my own, as is the theme, which I have completely changed. But I'm glad you like it, so thank you very much.

the lines you chose are mostly his, as they were my favourite too as a matter of fact, and wanted to keep them in. the pastel fields line is mine!

'The Raven' by Edgar Allen Poe is a huge poem and very eerie, you should give it a look :-)

thanks :-)

Mel

Account Closed at 13:10 on 15 September 2006  Report this post
Love the very dark beat to this, and also the use of irregular rhymes - it adds to the very unsettling feel of it and the increasing tension. A powerful and technically very clever poem!

A
xxx


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