The Raven -- But Not
Not by Edgar Allen Poe
Shifting, changing scenes, different now
Above me hangs a weary crow
Flapping slowly, tiredly, not knowing
Exactly where he’s meant to go
But carried ahead on ink-dark wings
Something pulls me,
As it pulls him
To a small stone house
A small stone house where the door creaks open
And there’s a face, a weary face,
Bearded and pale, with eyes like marbles,
Drawing me in with a bone-like hand.
I look to the crow, I trust him more
He leads me into the wizard’s den
As I cross the threshold and turn about,
The man shuts the door and I’m locked in.
Then with a quiet smile he’s suddenly gone,
Vanishing like mist, leaving me alone.
The ink-black bird lands on my shoulder
With rustling wings
Black like the souls of evil things.
The sky-bright eyes reveal him as he sings
Of golden crowns and eagle’s rings
And I have the distinctive feeling
That I can trust this dark-omened being.
He brought me here, he knows me
He means for me to find
Whatever the wizard locked unseen
To bring it to light
To prove that it’s right
To show that not all is as it seems.
About the Creator
ThatOne_Girl
I write anything from microfiction to novelettes, and they can be based on anything from songs to dreams to poems. I'm also pretty good at 'slice of life' type journalistic pieces. It goes anywhere and everywhere, really.
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