literature & booze

Literature & booze

 

Poor Edgar his world was dark, laughter was

a gasp on dying lips. He mined the deepest

the ravine where not even the summer sun reaches  

but he was able to, in the moment of clarity that

lit up his tunnel, to give us great literature,

a look into his world of horror.

 

There are other Edgars who walk in our streets

or sit in lonely rooms wearing a cape of despair,

their laughter too is a shriek of agony, a bitter

smile set in a pale face of utter defeat, for they

cannot articulate and share with us or turn them

suffering into readable literature.

◄ snow 1956

broken mirror ►

Comments

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Hazel ettridge

Wed 7th Aug 2019 20:44

Enjoying your take on things as ever.

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Lisa C Bassignani

Wed 7th Aug 2019 17:32

Edgar Allan Poe was my first real taste of poetry and tales at around age 9. Annabel Lee is probably my all time favorite poem. Sometimes when I write I try to capture his style. WWED....what would Edgar do...?
👍

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