Raven Gold, Sapphire Green

Golden and sapphire

The other,

Raven and green

It was never a choice

A simple mistake

So short and so sweet

The memory is mine

Everlasting

But as fate would have us

The cards frowned upon it

A second chance

Was it real?

Or perhaps an illusion

The sensation may fade

The dreams

They do not

Talking in silence

Waves on the shore

Seeing chance wither and die

Stinging skin

Salty, cold

Starlight beams down

Another comes, I listen

Wondering what you think now

Sand flies

Words pull me

Tugging me closer to shore

So far from me now

Words flow and I nod

Hearing, not hearing

Gold flashes brightly

But green, it shines brighter

Defeated am I?

Victorious?

Not

The season is over

Long, long overdue

But the feeling remains

And I ask, have you too?

Nonsense Poems

Here are some of my favorite nonsense poems!

These photos are not mine.

“And, as in uffish thought he stood,
  The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
  And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
  The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
  He went galumphing back.”

-Section of “Jabberwocky” by Lewis Carroll

Click the photo to see Johnny Depp recite “Jabberwocky” as the Mad Hatter

Raise your hand if you remember this poem from Tim Burton‘s 2010 version of Alice in Wonderland.  It sounded wonderful in Johnny Depp’s gravely, low Mad Hatter voice, his eyes burning emerald and hair of bright sienna.

“There was never a sound beside the wood but one, 
And that was my long scythe whispering to the ground. 
What was it it whispered? I knew not well myself; 
Perhaps it was something about the heat of the sun, 
Something, perhaps, about the lack of sound 
And that was why it whispered and did not speak. 
It was no dream of the gift of idle hours, 
Or easy gold at the hand of fay or elf: 
Anything more than the truth would have seemed too weak 
To the earnest love that laid the swale in rows, 
Not without feeble-pointed spikes of flowers 
(Pale orchises), and scared a bright green snake. 
The fact is the sweetest dream that labour knows. 
My long scythe whispered and left the hay to make.”

Mowing” by Robert Frost

I had to memorize this poem for my freshman English class in high school.  It struck me as strange and beautiful.  Though much time has passed since my recitation, the words have never left me and often when I am running in the heat or enduring some unpleasantry, they come floating back, soft and haunting.

“Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; – vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow – sorrow for the lost Lenore –
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore –
Nameless here for evermore.”

-Section of “The Raven” by Edgar Allen Poe

I used to volunteer at a soup kitchen and I worked with a guy who could recite “The Raven” in its entirety.  If you know this poem, you will know that is remarkable.  If not, click the link above and see just how LOOONNNGGG this poem really is.  I read a series called Nightworld by Ljane Smith and one of the books in the series is called “Witchlight.”  There is a character in the story named Iliana Harman who is said to be very beautiful.  An artist creates portraits of the characters for Ms. Smith’s website and the depiction of Iliana seems like the perfect face for the mysterious Lenore.

Portrait of Iliana Harman by Jan Sovak

“Let us go then, you and I,
To the Tomb of Ligeia, bye and bye,
Let us go to the Kingdom by the Sea,
The fish and chip shop of Annabelle Lee.
Let us go to the costal laundrette run by Lenore,
Let us throw open the windows and the door,
Dispel the gloom and evict the black cat,
Make a monkey of the ape asleep upon the mat.
Let us drink a draught of Hemlock at the House of Usher,
Where the décor is like the unquiet tomb, only plusher,
Let us imbibe at the Tell Tale Heart,
Let the parrots sing and the ravens play their part.
Alas, alas, M. Valdemar has come and I am at the door,
And I hear a melancholy chorus of black birds crying, Nevermore.”

-“The Love Song of Edgar Allen Poe” by Max Scratchmann

I thought this little poem amusing if not only for referencing two of my favorite poems (“The Raven” and “Annabel Lee”) and a few excellent short stories but it is also quite clever and, to my standards, nonsensical.

Note: He does spell Annabel Lee differently than Poe.

Annabel Lee