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it's allright amuse, it isn't really digressing. Hearing about Poe experiences is always fun! [Audio of Raven also scared the beejesus out of my sister]
Welcome Poeboy! Here's another 'bona fide' Poe fan.
So what actually got you folks to read Poe?
I found Poe's life history to be really tragic, heartbreaking...
[Wipes a single tear off the cheek] :(
A guy I know said, "read this (a pocket poe)", and so I did. The end.
I can't remember the first time I heard "The Raven," or some parody on it. As far as I can tell, Poe is just sort of a fact of life growing up in an English-speaking country, like Shakespeare. Some time in my early teens I was perusing our bookshelves and came across the Complete Works of Edgar Alan Poe, so I read about halfway through. And we also read a few Poe stories in school and I had to write a short essay on him. I pick up the "Works" now and then still and read a story or two when I feel Poe-y. ;)
I found a French translation of Annabelle Lee, which amused me, because the biggest point of most of Poe's poems is the sounds the words make. I wouldn't think they would translate well.
My favorite Poe story is the Murders of Rue Morgue. That ape cracks me up.
I was actually surprised that Poeboy's favorite story would be the Pit and the Pendulum. It definately has great tension, but the ending completely ruined it for me! Deus ex Machina is the cheapest way to end a story.
"Usher" and "Valdamar" are my favorite Poe stories. I enjoy his fiction but, God, that awful, awful poetry!
Quote:
Originally Posted by Koa
u should try with the shorter stories first Koa...Poe got lots of them..
Cheers
I don't think it's the cheapest way to end a story Shea, it's just been used so many times becuase it's an idea everyone has. It goes all the way back to the greeks. But I do think that although it is one of his most well known works, it is not his best.Quote:
Originally Posted by Shea
favourite horror poe: the cask of amontillado
favourite general poe: the man who was used up
favourite mystery poe: the purloined letter
favourite poem: the raven, alone
:banana:
Nice thread. I cannot believe I had never noticed it before.
Favorite Poe horror: either The Cask of Amontillado or The Tell-Tale Heart.
Favorite Poe detective: definitely The Murders in the Rue Morgue.
Favorite Poe general: two lesser-known works - The Unparalelled Adventures of One Hans Pfaal and The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pymn.
Favorite Poe poem: either "Annabel Lee," "Dream Within a Dream," or "The City by the Sea"
I've read only some poems by poe but I really like him and I'll read more cause I know I'll like all his works. my favourite poem is the Raven. it is spooky and beautiful, I just love reading it repeatedly.
hello, i don't know much about eap but i once saw the raven on tthe simpsons and it seemed alright
i don't know much about eap but i once saw 'The Raven' on the simpsons and thought it was alright
a. Which is your favorite Poe Horror story? Masque of the Red Death
b. Which is your favorite Poe Detective/Investigative story? Murders in the Rue Morgue
c. Which is your favorite Poe General story? The System of Doctor Tarr and Professor Fether
d. Which is your favorite Poe peom? The Raven
I wrote two parodies of "The Raven" both of which were published on the first try! Ha! :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :banana: :banana:
I discovered Edgar Allen Poe on The Simpsons Halloween special as well, the reading of "The Raven" was very good, since then it has remained one of my favorite poems, the way tension builds throughout the poem is amazing.
My favorite Poe stories, though I haven't read that many are "William Wilson" which is very eery and "The Tell-Tale Heart". I'm not a big fan of "The Pit and the Pendulum".
Perhaps you will enjoy the very famous poem more here:Quote:
Originally Posted by gumption
The Raven
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore--
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door--
Only this and nothing more."
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 name Lenore--
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me--filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
"'Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door--
Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door;
This it is and nothing more."
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"--here I opened wide the door--
Darkness there and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"--
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my sour within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping something louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is and this mystery explore--
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;--
'Tis the wind and nothing more.
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he,
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door--
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door--
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then the ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore--
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning--little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door--
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."
But the Raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if its soul in that one word he did outpour
Nothing farther then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered--
Till I scarcely more than muttered: "Other friends have flown before--
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said "Nevermore."
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore--
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never--nevermore.'"
But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore--
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee--by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite--respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!--
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted--
On this home by Horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore--
Is there--is there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us--by that God we both adore--
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore--
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Be that our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting--
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul has spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!--quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadows on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted--nevermore!
Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849)