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Poems for All Hallow's Eve

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giselle

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Re: Poems for All Hallow's Eve

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Aqueda_Veronica wrote: Do you guys know this amazing poem titled "The Highwayman" by Alfred Noyes? Highly recommended.
Thanks Aqueda-Veronica, here is the second last verse from The Highwayman, I think its the scariest verse of the poem. Also this poem is interesting in that there are the earlier events and the aftermath, the mythology, I think this makes it scarier ... this verse is the first of the myth. It has his famous line 'riding, riding' riding' ... on and on forever it says .... And I inserted a bit more Edgar Allen Poe in honour of Halloween, the last four verses of The Raven, where the raven is fully in charge, "still is sitting, still is sitting":

The Highwayman (excerpt):

And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding—
Riding—riding—
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.

The Raven (excerpt):

`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 named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word 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 hath 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 shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!
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Re: Poems for All Hallow's Eve

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Aqueda_Veronica wrote:
giselle wrote:I like Edgar Allen Poe because his poems are effortlessly scary ...
I totally agree, Giselle :) I absolutely adore Poe, but I guess you can tell than already by my signature...

Do you guys know this amazing poem titled "The Highwayman" by Alfred Noyes? Highly recommended.
The full text can be found here: http://www.potw.org/archive/potw85.html
And the gorgeous adaptation by Loreena McKennitt : http://www.youtube.com/watch?gl=PL&hl=p ... 2CFM4ev-g8
By the way, I really liked the Noyes poem. The youtube video won't play though. It says something about not being licensed in North America or something like that.
-Geo
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Re: Poems for All Hallow's Eve

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On Wanting to Tell [ ] about a Girl Eating Fish Eyes
By Mary Szybist

—how her loose curls float
above each silver fish as she leans in
to pluck its eyes—


You died just hours ago.
Not suddenly, no. You'd been dying so long
nothing looked like itself: from your window,
fishermen swirled sequins;
fishnets entangled the moon.


Now the dark rain
looks like dark rain. Only the wine
shimmers with candlelight. I refill the glasses
and we raise a toast to you
as so and so's daughter—elfin, jittery as a sparrow—
slides into another lap
to eat another pair of slippery eyes
with her soft fingers, fingers rosier each time,
for being chewed a little.


If only I could go to you, revive you.
You must be a little alive still.
I'd like to put this girl in your lap.
She's almost feverishly warm and she weighs
hardly anything. I want to show you how
she relishes each eye, to show you
her greed for them.


She is placing one on her tongue,
bright as a polished coin—


What do they taste like? I ask.
Twisting in my lap, she leans back
sleepily. They taste like eyes, she says.
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Re: Poems for All Hallow's Eve

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There's something gross about eating eyes ... and kind of disturbing .. eyes being window of the soul and all that ... even fish eyes.
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Re: Poems for All Hallow's Eve

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Bob Dylan's poem here has an apocalyptic tone to it. Listening to the song is better of course.

The Man in the Long Black Coat

Crickets are chirpin', the water is high,
There's a soft cotton dress on the line hangin' dry,
Window wide open, African trees
Bent over backwards from a hurricane breeze.
Not a word of goodbye, note even a note,
She gone with the man
In the long black coat.

Somebody seen him hanging around
At the old dance hall on the outskirts of town,
He looked into her eyes when she stopped to ask
If he wanted to dance, he had a face like a mask.
Somebody said from the Bible he'd quote
There was dust on the man
In the long black coat.

Preacher was a talkin' there's a sermon he gave,
He said every man's conscience is vile and depraved,
You cannot depend on it to be your guide
When it's you who must keep it satisfied.
It ain't easy to swallow, it sticks in the throat,
She gave her heart to the man
In the long black coat.

There are no mistakes in life some people say
It is true sometimes you can see it that way.
But people don't live or die, people just float.
She went with the man
In the long black coat.

There's smoke on the water, it's been there since June,
Tree trunks uprooted, 'neath the high crescent moon
Feel the pulse and vibration and the rumbling force
Somebody is out there beating the dead horse.
She never said nothing there was nothing she wrote,
She gone with the man
In the long black coat.
-Geo
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Re: Poems for All Hallow's Eve

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Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came

http://classiclit.about.com/library/bl- ... childe.htm
-Geo
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Re: Poems for All Hallow's Eve

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Like in The Man in the Long Dark Coat, Dylan repeats his central image, the locusts, in this poem in different ways at the end of each verse, a pattern that I notice in his poems/songs quite often and perhaps is common in the 'ballad'. I don't generally find insects scary but swarms of locusts singing, singing for me ...

"Day Of The Locusts"
Oh the benches were stained with tears and perspiration
The birdies were flying from tree to tree
There was little to say, there was no conversation
As I stepped to the stage to pick up my degree
And the locusts sang off in the distance
Yeah the locusts sang such a sweet melody
Oh, the locusts sang off in the distance
Yeah, the locusts sang and they were singing for me.

I glanced into the chamber where the judges were talking
Darkness was everywhere, it smelled like a tomb
I was ready to leave, I was already walkin'
But the next time I looked there was light in the room
And the locusts sang, yeah, it give me a chill
Oh, the locusts sang such a sweet melody
Oh, the locusts sang their high whining trill
Yeah, the locusts sang and they were singing for me.

Outside of the gates the trucks were unloadin'
The weather was hot, a-nearly 90 degrees
The man standin' next to me, his head was exploding
Well, I was prayin' the pieces wouldn't fall on me
Yeah,the locusts sang off in the distance
Yeah the locusts sang such a sweet melody
Oh, the locusts sang off in the distance
And the locusts sang and they were singing for me.

I put down my robe, picked up my diploma
Took hold of my sweetheart and away we did drive
Straight for the hills, the black hills of Dakota
Sure was glad to get out of there alive
And the locusts sang, yeah, it give me a chill
Yeah, the locusts sang such a sweet melody
And the locusts sang with a high whining trill
Yeah, the locusts sang and they were singing for me
Singing for me, well, singing for me.

Bob Dylan
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Re: Poems for All Hallow's Eve

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My Last Duchess

That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive. I call
That piece a wonder, now: Fra Pandolf’s hands
Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
Will’t please you sit and look at her? I said
“Fra Pandolf” by design, for never read
Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
The depth and passion of its earnest glance,
But to myself they turned (since none puts by
The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)
And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,
How such a glance came there; so, not the first
Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, ’twas not
Her husband’s presence only, called that spot
Of joy into the Duchess’ cheek: perhaps
Fra Pandolf chanced to say “Her mantle laps
Over my lady’s wrist too much,” or “Paint
Must never hope to reproduce the faint
Half-flush that dies along her throat”: such stuff
Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough
For calling up that spot of joy. She had
A heart—how shall I say?—too soon made glad,
Too easily impressed; she liked whate’er
She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.
Sir, ’twas all one! My favour at her breast,
The dropping of the daylight in the West,
The bough of cherries some officious fool
Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule
She rode with round the terrace—all and each
Would draw from her alike the approving speech,
Or blush, at least. She thanked men,—good! but thanked
Somehow—I know not how—as if she ranked
My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name
With anybody’s gift. Who’d stoop to blame
This sort of trifling? Even had you skill
In speech—(which I have not)—to make your will
Quite clear to such an one, and say, “Just this
Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss,
Or there exceed the mark”—and if she let
Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set
Her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse,
—E’en then would be some stooping; and I choose
Never to stoop. Oh sir, she smiled, no doubt,
Whene’er I passed her; but who passed without
Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands;
Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands
As if alive. Will’t please you rise? We’ll meet
The company below, then. I repeat,
The Count your master’s known munificence
Is ample warrant that no just pretence
Of mine for dowry will be disallowed;
Though his fair daughter’s self, as I avowed
At starting, is my object. Nay, we’ll go
Together down, sir. Notice Neptune, though,
Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity,
Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!

- by Robert Browning



This link has a reading of the poem.

http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15701

Interesting use of run-ons in this poem. It's also quite a spooky poem, especially when we get to the line about when the first duchess' "smiles stopped."
-Geo
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Re: Poems for All Hallow's Eve

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I like Poe's "The Raven" as well; however, I am submitting the following: Though not specifically a Halloween poem, I think it captures the spirit of the season.

William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)
THE SECOND COMING

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
Love what you do, and do what you love. Don't listen to anyone else who tells you not to do it. -Ray Bradbury

Always listen to experts. They'll tell you what can't be done, and why. Then do it. -Robert A. Heinlein
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Re: Poems for All Hallow's Eve

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Thanks, Cattleman. Yeats's poem seems to be a grand post-apocalyptic vision. I like the image of the sphinx near the end.
-Geo
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