Adam Sylvain

10/7/08
“The Raven” Poetry Re-write

The Raven

A sinister semblance, a soaring sable shadow,

A sentinel of the sky on a doleful day,
I perceived its patrol from my bedroom window.
Determining a descent upon my way,
I feared the flight upon my way,
The devil of the sky, curse every black-ember feather.

How hastily heaven threw the avian back to earth,

Offended by the wretch, every black-ember feather,
Like a virulent storm it fell, a petulant patron of death.
Languidly I observed, fighting hard to remember,
When my maiden’s good form was cast to ember,
Her death is a mark on every black-ember feather.

Lying limp, lightly breathing,

I fixed frightening eyes on this harbinger of hell.
The white blank stare disquieting my soul,
If the raven was dead I could not tell.
Satisfied it could not be commissioned in this sudden spell,
My callous soul by the Raven fell, dark like every black-ember feather.