EDGAR ALLAN POET

October is Hallowe’en month and, by coincidence, the month that the master of Gothic horror, Edgar Allan Poe, died. 

Poe (January 19, 1809 – October 7, 1849) was an American writer and is best known for his poetry and short stories, particularly his tales of mystery and the macabre.

Here’s a small tribute to him in the form of two dark little poems.

GARDENER’S QUESTION TIME

Your garden is magnificent:

the fruit trees pruned, all hedges trimmed.

Hours, countless hours, you must have spent

in keeping every lawn-edge strimmed.

Where do you get the energy?

It is a mystery to me. 

 

Oh, I don’t manage on my own:

I keep some zombies in the shed.

They work all day and never moan

for, after all, they are undead.

I feed them cats to keep them mild 

and now and then a neighbour’s child.  

That rose bush, too, is wonderful.

Do you use chemicals or what?

The answer is immensely dull:

nutrition from organic rot.

Think of the rose bush as a wreath.

The postman’s buried underneath.

NIGHT-FRIGHT   

Something’s moving in the dark.

I’m sure I saw a shadow there.

Why does the dog refuse to bark

and cower there behind the chair?

There’s someone outside near the tree:

a trespasser, it seems to me.

His outline is misshapen, grim,

inhuman almost, to my mind.

Won’t you go out and challenge him?

No, stay, I won’t be left behind.

Lord help us now, I hear you groan:

no signal on the telephone.

The door is strong, the windows too

and yet I cannot help but scream

when his warped face comes into view:

a creature from an ugly dream

He glares in at us through the glass

We find ourselves at an impasse.

The door is smashed. He’s broken in.

He’s fury-faced and murder-eyed

We cannot flee to save our skin

for we are frail and terrified.

He snarls. I see his fangs and snout.

I feel his breath. The lights go out.