Sunday Writing Prompt “Poem-Alone by Edgar Allen Poe”


What sort of dream continues

to weave its machinations throughout the day

and does not desist

though I have departed from sleep?

It is the residue of my tears left to coalesce.

I cannot distinguish myself

from the stars overheard

or from the streams

which are born each moment anew.

I am not like the others

and for this I am held distant.

I do not have the time or the gall

to care what other’s think.

I have but this life

and it is well and truly occupied

by the things that I love,

by the poetry that dwells deep within me.

been busy house painting


2 Sonnets (Mistress of Carrion and Crept)


Mistress of Carrion

Stygian heart reborn with the dawn

A waif no word or deed could snare

Moonlit limbs in blankets withdrawn

A murder of ravens nodding in prayer

Mistress of carrion lovely even in death

I beseech thee another hour, another day

Lungs screeching in defiance of breath

A man of mercy would not bid you stay

But you are crueler, more indelible than I

For without you heaven and Creator depart

My humanity will on your ascension die

For without the muse there exists no art

Severance offers neither freedom nor cure

For what reason should I alone endure?


There is no wound for which your darling lips have abstained

No passage within that I might as sanctuary claim forbidden

One by one you unravel my fears as if I were an exile chained

Beneath your omnivorous gaze no mystery remains hidden

Boundless as a wayfarer’s sky, these flaws an unsavory guide

What nightmares this troubled mind has imbibed despite protest

That you should in possession, look upon me with such pride

Tis not for me to question the fortune of which I’ve been blessed

Abandoned by blood I had no savior upon which to hope

Deplorable wretch that I was I surrendered ungratefully to sin

I wanted only for a black-veiled butcher to fasten his rope

Around my neck that I might upon my final breath grin

Knowing that I had lived if not well, at least willfully

But into my unconscious heart you crept ever so skillfully

Blog Challenge 24 Favorite Childhood Book


As a child I wasn’t really read to that often, I read to myself and whatever I could get my hands on. For a long time the only books I could really get a hold of were the ones my parents owned which were not exactly age appropriate. They did have a collection of Edgar Allen Poe poetry that I really enjoyed. When I got a little older and my mom started taking me to the library more frequently I checked out a lot of books on Norse and Greek Mythology. When I read Sylvia Plath’s “The Bell Jar” in 9th grade it was a real turning point for me. I started to write my own poetry and to pursue classical literature and poetry more ferociously. Not long after I read Arthur Rimbaud’s “A Season in Hell and Illuminations” and I knew then that I had to write.