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NancyGene wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
Seconded, for once we agree, Harry.
Edgar Allan Poe was a big influence on the poetry I wrote as a youth in Richards Junior High School, early 70s.
EfOA
Silence
Just the response I expected from you, Harry, narrow-minded snob that you are.
EfyA
No, Donkey, I'm only restating what should be an obvious fact.
In literary circles, we say that a writer has been "influenced" by another writer, when their work contains elements of that other writer's style.
Poe was a Romantic poet (the last significant Romantic poet in that literary movement), and his early work was heavily influenced by his fellow Romantic poet, Lord Byron.
Poe was also a towering figure in the Goth Romantic subgenre of the two literary movements for which it is named. I am a modern Dark Romantic or Goth Romantic poet, and Poe's influence on my writing has been noted by numerous small press writers and editors.
Your writing, otoh, bears no resemblance to that of Poe. Your influences were clearly the song lyrics from the Classic, Psychedelic, and Folk Rock genres that were popular during your teens.
Poe was also a well known (and highly feared) literary critic. I have read *all* of literary critiques (several times), and can safely say that he would have detested modern poetry in general, and would have especially hated your literary idols: Ginsberg, O'Hara, Zu-Bolton, Bukowski, et al. He would have sneered at your poetry as unintelligible swill written by an illiterate, uneducated baboon.
EAP would certainly not have included any of Donkey's writings in any anthology. EAP would have been appalled that Donkey presumed to even call himself a poet or a writer. EAP would have demolished Donkey in words that everyone but Donkey would understand. Donkey may have been under the influence, but it was not under the influence of Edgar Allan Poe.
NancyGene wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
Seconded, for once we agree, Harry.
Edgar Allan Poe was a big influence on the poetry I wrote as a
youth in Richards Junior High School, early 70s.
EfOA
Silence
Just the response I expected from you, Harry, narrow-minded snob
that you are.
EfyA
No, Donkey, I'm only restating what should be an obvious fact.
In literary circles, we say that a writer has been "influenced" by
another writer, when their work contains elements of that other
writer's style.
Poe was a Romantic poet (the last significant Romantic poet in that
literary movement), and his early work was heavily influenced by his
fellow Romantic poet, Lord Byron.
Poe was also a towering figure in the Goth Romantic subgenre of the
two literary movements for which it is named. I am a modern Dark
Romantic or Goth Romantic poet, and Poe's influence on my writing
has been noted by numerous small press writers and editors.
Your writing, otoh, bears no resemblance to that of Poe. Your
influences were clearly the song lyrics from the Classic,
Psychedelic, and Folk Rock genres that were popular during your
teens.
Poe was also a well known (and highly feared) literary critic. I
have read *all* of literary critiques (several times), and can
safely say that he would have detested modern poetry in general, and
would have especially hated your literary idols: Ginsberg, O'Hara,
Zu-Bolton, Bukowski, et al. He would have sneered at your poetry as
unintelligible swill written by an illiterate, uneducated baboon.
EAP would certainly not have included any of Donkey's writings in any
anthology. EAP would have been appalled that Donkey presumed to even
call himself a poet or a writer. EAP would have demolished Donkey in
words that everyone but Donkey would understand. Donkey may have
been under the influence, but it was not under the influence of Edgar
Allan Poe.
Brilliantly stated, and 100% correct.
Cujo DeSockpuppet wrote:
mpsilvertone@yahoo-dot-com.no-spam.invalid (HarryLime) wrote in news:156dnSzjqZD_CHv1nZ2dnZfqn_idnZ2d@giganews.com:
NancyGene wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
Seconded, for once we agree, Harry.
Edgar Allan Poe was a big influence on the poetry I wrote as a
youth in Richards Junior High School, early 70s.
EfOA
Silence
Just the response I expected from you, Harry, narrow-minded snob
that you are.
EfyA
No, Donkey, I'm only restating what should be an obvious fact.
In literary circles, we say that a writer has been "influenced" by
another writer, when their work contains elements of that other
writer's style.
Poe was a Romantic poet (the last significant Romantic poet in that
literary movement), and his early work was heavily influenced by his
fellow Romantic poet, Lord Byron.
Poe was also a towering figure in the Goth Romantic subgenre of the
two literary movements for which it is named. I am a modern Dark
Romantic or Goth Romantic poet, and Poe's influence on my writing
has been noted by numerous small press writers and editors.
Your writing, otoh, bears no resemblance to that of Poe. Your
influences were clearly the song lyrics from the Classic,
Psychedelic, and Folk Rock genres that were popular during your
teens.
Poe was also a well known (and highly feared) literary critic. I
have read *all* of literary critiques (several times), and can
safely say that he would have detested modern poetry in general, and
would have especially hated your literary idols: Ginsberg, O'Hara,
Zu-Bolton, Bukowski, et al. He would have sneered at your poetry as
unintelligible swill written by an illiterate, uneducated baboon.
EAP would certainly not have included any of Donkey's writings in any
anthology. EAP would have been appalled that Donkey presumed to even
call himself a poet or a writer. EAP would have demolished Donkey in
words that everyone but Donkey would understand. Donkey may have
been under the influence, but it was not under the influence of Edgar
Allan Poe.
Brilliantly stated, and 100% correct.
Even uneducated babboons are smarter than a donkey. Apologize to the primates.
--
"Post-editing someone's statement before replying to it is a sure sign
that you have already lost the argument." - Little Willie Douchebag gets another asskicking from Pendragon.
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
Seconded, for once we agree, Harry.
Edgar Allan Poe was a big influence on the poetry I wrote as a youth in Richards Junior High School, early 70s.
EfOA
(Original text restored.)
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
Seconded, for once we agree, Harry.
Edgar Allan Poe was a big influence on the poetry I wrote as a youth in Richards Junior High School, early 70s.
EfOA
(Original text restored.)
Post one of these supposedly Poe-influenced poems here.
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
Seconded, for once we agree, Harry.
Edgar Allan Poe was a big influence on the poetry I wrote as a youth in Richards Junior High School, early 70s.
EfOA
(Original text restored.)
Post one of these supposedly Poe-influenced poems here.
All of my poetry is original work but as one of my earliest poetry favorites, Edgar Allan Poe was definitely an influence on my poetry then at Richards Junior High School and now, in the present.
HTH and HAND.
Will-Dockery wrote:
My poem from the 1976 edition of Pegasus, tre Carver High School literary journal, which shows the influence of Edgar Allan Poe on my poetry.
(See JLA Forums attachment below.)
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
My poem from the 1976 edition of Pegasus, tre Carver High School literary journal, which shows the influence of Edgar Allan Poe on my poetry.
(See JLA Forums attachment below.)
I see no trace of Poe
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
My poem from the 1976 edition of Pegasus, tre Carver High School literary journal, which shows the influence of Edgar Allan Poe on my poetry.
(See JLA Forums attachment below.)
I see no trace of Poe
I didn't expect you to admit it.
EfyA
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
My poem from the 1976 edition of Pegasus, tre Carver High School literary journal, which shows the influence of Edgar Allan Poe on my poetry.
(See JLA Forums attachment below.)
I see no trace of Poe
I didn't expect you to admit it.
EfyA
Why should you expect me to admit to the presence of something that isn't there?
Poe never wrote a prose poem. "Eureka" is only a poem insofar as it attempts to discover the truth behind the great mysteries of the universe. The actual text is a philosophical essay laced with satirical humor.
The closest he ever came to doing so was in the blank verse poem, "To Helen [Whitman]," but even it is in a far more traditional form than your "Neon Bones."
Apart from its being "dark," please point out *one* similarity between it and the writings (poetry or prose) of Mr. Poe.
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
My poem from the 1976 edition of Pegasus, tre Carver High School literary journal, which shows the influence of Edgar Allan Poe on my poetry.
(See JLA Forums attachment below.)
I see no trace of Poe
I didn't expect you to admit it.
EfyA
Why should you expect me to admit to the presence of something that isn't there?
Poe never wrote a prose poem. "Eureka" is only a poem insofar as it attempts to discover the truth behind the great mysteries of the universe. The actual text is a philosophical essay laced with satirical humor.
The closest he ever came to doing so was in the blank verse poem, "To Helen [Whitman]," but even it is in a far more traditional form than your "Neon Bones."
Apart from its being "dark," please point out *one* similarity between it and the writings (poetry or prose) of Mr. Poe.
I was influenced by the prose of Edgar Allan Poe, as well.
In 1971 I wrote a novel title "The Curse of Duplin."
It wasn't great but it was influenced by Edgar Allan Poe nevertheless.
EfyA
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
I began writing poetry at Richards Junior High School in 1971, influenced by Edgar Allan Poe. I also wrote a novel I called "The Curse of Duplin" under the influence of Poe, it wasn't great but it used a lot of the dark tropes of Poe and other similar writers.
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
I began writing poetry at Richards Junior High School in 1971, influenced by Edgar Allan Poe. I also wrote a novel I called "The Curse of Duplin" under the influence of Poe, it wasn't great but it used a lot of the dark tropes of Poe and other similar writers.
And how many pages was this so-called "novel"?
Oh, once again, the use of dark tropes pertains to *genre* fiction.
It would be more honest (and believable) if y were to say that you were influenced by Tales From the Crypt, Creepshow, and other EC Comics.
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
I began writing poetry at Richards Junior High School in 1971, influenced by Edgar Allan Poe. I also wrote a novel I called "The Curse of Duplin" under the influence of Poe, it wasn't great but it used a lot of the dark tropes of Poe and other similar writers.
And how many pages was this so-called "novel"?
Oh, once again, the use of dark tropes pertains to *genre* fiction.
It would be more honest (and believable) if y were to say that you were influenced by Tales From the Crypt, Creepshow, and other EC Comics.
I definitely did read those comics, as well as many of the Hammer and Universal horror films.
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
Okay, I suppose my book inspired by Edgar Allan Poe would actually be called a novella, since it was only a little over 100 pages.
I checked on a book I know is similar in size, and they're saying it's a novella also.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Satori_in_Paris
George J. Dance wrote:
NancyGene wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
<doggerel snip>
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
Poor Edgar, gone too soon.
Just like your proof-reading skills, NastyGoon..
"Commerating the 176th Anniversay"!
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
Okay, I suppose my book inspired by Edgar Allan Poe would actually be called a novella, since it was only a little over 100 pages.
I checked on a book I know is similar in size, and they're saying it's a novella also.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Satori_in_Paris
Your tendency to exaggerate is well known.
George J. Dance wrote:
NancyGene wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
<doggerel snip>
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
Poor Edgar, gone too soon.
Just like your proof-reading skills, NastyGoon..
"Commerating the 176th Anniversay"!
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
Will-Dockery wrote:
Edgar Allan Poe *was* represented well in comic books but the way, since you mentioned it, Pendragon.
Examples to follow.
EfyA
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
Edgar Allan Poe *was* represented well in comic books but the way, since you mentioned it, Pendragon.
Examples to follow.
EfyA
About as well as he was represented in American International films. They were good films, but they had little to do with Poe.
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
HarryLime wrote:
Your tendency to exaggerate is well known.
HarryLime wrote:
Your tendency to exaggerate is well known.
In my case, it's only for
comedic effect when making a > humorous post.
In my serious posts, I always
attempt to recount any facts
as honestly and as fairly as I
remember them.
Here's a serious recollection from my childhood:
A 100-page novella typewritten > or hand-written?[/quote]
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Your tendency to exaggerate is well known.
As is yours, Pendragon.
In my case, it's only for
comedic effect when making a > humorous post.
In my serious posts, I always
attempt to recount any facts
as honestly and as fairly as I
remember them.
Here's a serious recollection from my childhood:
A 100-page novella typewritten > or hand-written?[/quote]
NancyGene wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Your tendency to exaggerate is well known.
As is yours, Pendragon.
HarryLime wrote:
Will Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Your tendency to exaggerate is well known.
As is yours, Pendragon.
In my case, it's only for comedic effect when making a humorous post.
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Your tendency to exaggerate is well known.
As is yours, Pendragon.
In my case, it's only for comedic effect when making a humorous post.
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Your tendency to exaggerate is well known.
As is yours, Pendragon.
In my case, it's only for comedic effect when making a humorous post.
Same here.
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Your tendency to exaggerate is well known.
As is yours, Pendragon.
In my case, it's only for comedic effect when making a humorous post.
Same here.
Granted, your above-posted selfie is worthy of a snicker or three
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Your tendency to exaggerate is well known.
As is yours, Pendragon.
In my case, it's only for comedic effect when making a humorous post. >>>>
Same here.
Granted, your above-posted selfie is worthy of a snicker or three
Yours is a bit silly looking also, now that you mention it.
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
Will-Dockery wrote:
Another good comix adaptation of "Tell Tale Heart," one I've never seen before:
https://professorhswaybackmachine.blogspot.com/2015/05/poe-1977-pt-3.html?m=1
***
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
Another good comix adaptation of "Tell Tale Heart," one I've never seen before:
https://professorhswaybackmachine.blogspot.com/2015/05/poe-1977-pt-3.html?m=1
***
Your having read adaptations of Poe's works in comic books, is a world away from actually having read his original works.
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
Another good comix adaptation of "Tell Tale Heart," one I've never seen before:
https://professorhswaybackmachine.blogspot.com/2015/05/poe-1977-pt-3.html?m=1
***
As previously noted, Donkey:
Your having read adaptations of Poe's works in comic books, is a world away from actually having read his original works.
NancyGene wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
Another good comix adaptation of "Tell Tale Heart," one I've never seen before:
https://professorhswaybackmachine.blogspot.com/2015/05/poe-1977-pt-3.html?m=1
***
Your having read adaptations of Poe's works in comic books, is a world away from actually having read his original works.
Again, I read Edgar Allan Poe in *both* forms.
He "read" them
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
Will-Dockery wrote:
NancyGene wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
Another good comix adaptation of "Tell Tale Heart," one I've never seen before:
https://professorhswaybackmachine.blogspot.com/2015/05/poe-1977-pt-3.html?m=1
***
Your having read adaptations of Poe's works in comic books, is a world away from actually having read his original works.
Again, I read Edgar Allan Poe in *both* forms.
He "read" them
Yes I did, I read Edgar Allan Poe in two different forms, the original prose and the comix adaptations, as well as several film versions.
HTH and HAND.
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
Will-Dockery wrote:
Pendragon, my response to your last post was rejected by JLA Forums, so my simple reply for now, since I don't feel like retyping it is that I read most of the basic Edgar Allan Poe shirt stories and poems available as a paperback collection around 1971, while I was at Richards Junior High School.
I wasn't the only one, as Edgar Allan Poe was very popular with the youth of my generation, basically the generation before yours.
HTH and HAND.
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
Pendragon, my response to your last post was rejected by JLA Forums, so my simple reply for now, since I don't feel like retyping it is that I read most of the basic Edgar Allan Poe short stories and poems available as a paperback collection around 1971, while I was at Richards Junior High School.
I wasn't the only one, as Edgar Allan Poe was very popular with the youth of my generation, basically the generation before yours.
HTH and HAND.
First off, Donkey, we're both part of the "Baby Boomer" generation.
Second, we're also both part of the cusp generation known as "Generation Jones" (1954-1965).
Third, if you read any of Poe's short stories
Well, I just spent a while responding to your last post, Pendragon...
and JLA Forums simply rejected it for no good reason.
Since I didn't copy it before hitting send, it's all lost.
Damn!
MummyChunk, tell the JLA Forums administrators that I'm not amused.
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
Pendragon, my response to your last post was rejected by JLA Forums, so my simple reply for now, since I don't feel like retyping it is that I read most of the basic Edgar Allan Poe short stories and poems available as a paperback collection around 1971, while I was at Richards Junior High School.
I wasn't the only one, as Edgar Allan Poe was very popular with the youth of my generation, basically the generation before yours.
HTH and HAND.
First off, Donkey, we're both part of the "Baby Boomer" generation.
Second, we're also both part of the cusp generation known as "Generation Jones" (1954-1965).
Third, if you read any of Poe's short stories
No, it was a paperback collection that was available around 1971-72 white I was attending Richards Junior High School. Quite a few of the students there were reading and enjoying Edgar Allan Poe.
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
Pendragon, my response to your last post was rejected by JLA Forums, so my simple reply for now, since I don't feel like retyping it is that I read most of the basic Edgar Allan Poe short stories and poems available as a paperback collection around 1971, while I was at Richards Junior High School.
I wasn't the only one, as Edgar Allan Poe was very popular with the youth of my generation, basically the generation before yours.
HTH and HAND.
First off, Donkey, we're both part of the "Baby Boomer" generation.
Second, we're also both part of the cusp generation known as "Generation Jones" (1954-1965).
Third, if you read any of Poe's short stories
No, it was a paperback collection that was available around 1971-72 white I was attending Richards Junior High School. Quite a few of the students there were reading and enjoying Edgar Allan Poe.
A few of Poe's tales, if properly > annotated, could be enjoyed by 14-year-olds.
Definitely true that.
xxxxx lies and misrepresentations snipped xxxx
I and my fellow students had no problem
I and my fellow students had no problem
[quote="Rudy Canoza"]Will-Dockery wrote:
I and my fellow students had no problem
Students?! The only thing you could ever teach
is how to be a no count deadbeat daddy pissbum
loser, donkey.
You seem confused, Rudy.
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
Pendragon, my response to your last post was rejected by JLA Forums, so my simple reply for now, since I don't feel like retyping it is that I read most of the basic Edgar Allan Poe short stories and poems available as a paperback collection around 1971, while I was at Richards Junior High School.
I wasn't the only one, as Edgar Allan Poe was very popular with the youth of my generation, basically the generation before yours.
HTH and HAND.
First off, Donkey, we're both part of the "Baby Boomer" generation.
Second, we're also both part of the cusp generation known as "Generation Jones" (1954-1965).
Third, if you read any of Poe's short stories
No, it was a paperback collection that was available around 1971-72 white I was attending Richards Junior High School. Quite a few of the students there were reading and enjoying Edgar Allan Poe.
A few of Poe's tales, if properly annotated, could be enjoyed by 14-year-olds. Of course, they would have been the top students on a college-bound track, and not a dimwit who'd been left back at least twice before eventually dropping out.
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
Pendragon, my response to your last post was rejected by JLA
Forums, so my simple reply for now, since I don't feel like
retyping it is that I read most of the basic Edgar Allan Poe short
stories and poems available as a paperback collection around 1971,
while I was at Richards Junior High School.
I wasn't the only one, as Edgar Allan Poe was very popular with
the youth of my generation, basically the generation before yours.
HTH and HAND.
First off, Donkey, we're both part of the "Baby Boomer" generation.
Second, we're also both part of the cusp generation known as
"Generation Jones" (1954-1965).
Third, if you read any of Poe's short stories
No, it was a paperback collection that was available around 1971-72
white I was attending Richards Junior High School. Quite a few of
the students there were reading and enjoying Edgar Allan Poe.
A few of Poe's tales, if properly annotated, could be enjoyed by
14-year-olds. Of course, they would have been the top students on a
college-bound track, and not a dimwit who'd been left back at least
twice before eventually dropping out.
An important thing to know about Will Donkey is that he understood, at
14, all that he was EVER going to understand.
Cujo DeSockpuppet wrote:
nancygene.andjayme@gmail-dot-com.no-spam.invalid (NancyGene) wrote in news:2d-dnSiLrtljXHb1nZ2dnZfqnPSdnZ2d@giganews.com:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
Pendragon, my response to your last post was rejected by JLA
Forums, so my simple reply for now, since I don't feel like
retyping it is that I read most of the basic Edgar Allan Poe short
stories and poems available as a paperback collection around 1971,
while I was at Richards Junior High School.
I wasn't the only one, as Edgar Allan Poe was very popular with
the youth of my generation, basically the generation before yours.
HTH and HAND.
First off, Donkey, we're both part of the "Baby Boomer" generation.
Second, we're also both part of the cusp generation known as
"Generation Jones" (1954-1965).
Third, if you read any of Poe's short stories
No, it was a paperback collection that was available around 1971-72
white I was attending Richards Junior High School. Quite a few of
the students there were reading and enjoying Edgar Allan Poe.
A few of Poe's tales, if properly annotated, could be enjoyed by
14-year-olds. Of course, they would have been the top students on a
college-bound track, and not a dimwit who'd been left back at least
twice before eventually dropping out.
An important thing to know about Will Donkey is that he understood, at
14, all that he was EVER going to understand.
There are three things that Little Willie Douchebag understands, and all
of them are nothing.
--
"Post-editing someone's statement before replying to it is a sure sign
that you have already lost the argument." - Little Willie Douchebag gets another asskicking from Pendragon.
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
Pendragon, my response to your last post was rejected by JLA Forums, so my simple reply for now, since I don't feel like retyping it is that I read most of the basic Edgar Allan Poe short stories and poems available as a paperback collection around 1971, while I was at Richards Junior High School.
I wasn't the only one, as Edgar Allan Poe was very popular with the youth of my generation, basically the generation before yours.
HTH and HAND.
First off, Donkey, we're both part of the "Baby Boomer" generation.
Second, we're also both part of the cusp generation known as "Generation Jones" (1954-1965).
Third, if you read any of Poe's short stories
No, it was a paperback collection that was available around 1971-72 white I was attending Richards Junior High School. Quite a few of the students there were reading and enjoying Edgar Allan Poe.
A few of Poe's tales, if properly > annotated, could be enjoyed by
14-year-olds.
Definitely true that.
xxxxx lies and misrepresentations snipped xxxx
Why do you lie and misrepresent so much, Pendragon?
I and my fellow students had no problem reading and understanding the writing of Edgar Allan Poe.
HTH and HAND.
EfyA
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
Rudy Canoza wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
I and my fellow students had no problem
Students?! The only thing you could ever teach
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
I first read Edgar Allan Poe in a paperback collection while I attended Richards Junior High School in 1971.
I'll Google and see if I see that specific edition somewhere online.
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
I first read Edgar Allan Poe in a paperback collection while I attended Richards Junior High School in 1971.
I'll Google and see if I see that specific edition somewhere online.
Dollars to donuts, it was an abridged version.
But the bigger issue is that of your age at the time.
You claimed to have written a Poe-inspired novel at the age of twelve. You turned 12 in May of 1970. Not in 1971, and not in 1971-1972, which is when you'd previously dated your introduction to the book of Poe's tales.
And since one might safely say that you didn't write a 100+ page novel immediately after having read a single short story by Poe, the actual composition would probably have taken place after you'd read, and re-read, several of his tales enough times for them to have become a dominant force in your creative imagination. In short, you most likely started composing the novel a year or two *after* having first read one of Poe's tales.
This means that if you were actually 12 when you completed your novel, you most likely first encountered Poe's works at the age of ten.
If, otoh, you first encountered them at the age of 13 or 14, you were probably about 15 when you wrote it.
****
None of which changes the fact that you still *cannot* read, and understand, Poe's writings at the age of 67.
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
I first read Edgar Allan Poe in a paperback collection while I
attended Richards Junior High School in 1971.
I'll Google and see if I see that specific edition somewhere online.
Dollars to donuts, it was an abridged version.
But the bigger issue is that of your age at the time.
You claimed to have written a Poe-inspired novel at the age of twelve.
You turned 12 in May of 1970. Not in 1971, and not in 1971-1972,
which is when you'd previously dated your introduction to the book of
Poe's tales.
And since one might safely say that you didn't write a 100+ page novel immediately after having read a single short story by Poe, the actual composition would probably have taken place after you'd read, and
re-read, several of his tales enough times for them to have become a
dominant force in your creative imagination. In short, you most
likely started composing the novel a year or two *after* having first
read one of Poe's tales.
This means that if you were actually 12 when you completed your novel,
you most likely first encountered Poe's works at the age of ten.
If, otoh, you first encountered them at the age of 13 or 14, you were probably about 15 when you wrote it.
****
None of which changes the fact that you still *cannot* read, and
understand, Poe's writings at the age of 67.
NancyGene wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
I first read Edgar Allan Poe in a paperback collection while I attended Richards Junior High School in 1971.
I'll Google and see if I see that specific edition somewhere online.
Dollars to donuts, it was an
abridged version.
I'll look aroundabd find out.
But the bigger issue is that of > your age at the time.
You claimed to have written a > Poe-inspired novel at the age
of twelve. You turned 12 in
May of 1970. Not in 1971, and not in 1971-1972, which is when you'd previously dated your
introduction to the book of Poe's > tales.
I'm pretty sure I didn't write the novella until 1971, possibly even 1972. >>
I probably put a date on the manuscript so I'll let you know about that lster.
And since one might safely say that you didn't write a 100+ page novel immediately after having read a single short story by Poe, the actual composition would probably have taken place after you'd read, and re-read, several of his tales enough times for them to have become a dominant force in your creative imagination. In short, you most likely started composing the novel a year or two *after* having first read one of Poe's tales
****
I have the novella here, and will probably begin scanning pages from it soon.
The only version I have handy is the handwritten manuscript, though.
The typed version is probably archived out in the shed.
Will is
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
Will-Dockery wrote: https://uncledougsbunkerofhorror.blogspot.com/2015/09/the-scholastic-edgar-allan-poe-editions.html?m=1
These are the type of Edgar Allan Poe collections that were all over Richards Junior High School in 1971.
I wasn't the only kid who read and enjoyed Edgar Allan Poe back then, but as far as I know, I'm the only person inspired enough to begin writing, myself.
HTH and HAND.
https://uncledougsbunkerofhorror.blogspot.com/2015/09/the-scholastic-edgar-allan-poe-editions.html?m=1
***
Will-Dockery wrote: https://uncledougsbunkerofhorror.blogspot.com/2015/09/the-scholastic-edgar-allan-poe-editions.html?m=1
These are the type of Edgar Allan Poe collections that were all over Richards Junior High School in 1971.
I wasn't the only kid who read and enjoyed Edgar Allan Poe back then, but as far as I know, I'm the only person inspired enough to begin writing, myself.
HTH and HAND.
https://uncledougsbunkerofhorror.blogspot.com/2015/09/the-scholastic-edgar-allan-poe-editions.html?m=1
***
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
https://uncledougsbunkerofhorror.blogspot.com/2015/09/the-scholastic-edgar-allan-poe-editions.html?m=1
These are the type of Edgar Allan Poe collections that were all over Richards Junior High School in 1971.
I wasn't the only kid who read and enjoyed Edgar Allan Poe back then, but as far as I know, I'm the only person inspired enough to begin writing, myself.
HTH and HAND.
https://uncledougsbunkerofhorror.blogspot.com/2015/09/the-scholastic-edgar-allan-poe-editions.html?m=1
***
Yeah, "Edited" version.
"Edited" is publishing code for "abridged" and/or "simplified." Scholastic Books often published "Edited" versions of classic literature.
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
https://uncledougsbunkerofhorror.blogspot.com/2015/09/the-scholastic-edgar-allan-poe-editions.html?m=1
These are the type of Edgar Allan Poe collections that were all over Richards Junior High School in 1971.
I wasn't the only kid who read and enjoyed Edgar Allan Poe back then, but as far as I know, I'm the only person inspired enough to begin writing, myself.
HTH and HAND.
https://uncledougsbunkerofhorror.blogspot.com/2015/09/the-scholastic-edgar-allan-poe-editions.html?m=1
***
Yeah, "Edited" version.
"Edited" is publishing code for "abridged" and/or "simplified." Scholastic Books often published "Edited" versions of classic literature.
NancyGene wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
https://uncledougsbunkerofhorror.blogspot.com/2015/09/the-scholastic-edgar-allan-poe-editions.html?m=1
These are the type of Edgar Allan Poe collections that were all over Richards Junior High School in 1971.
I wasn't the only kid who read and enjoyed Edgar Allan Poe back then, but as far as I know, I'm the only person inspired enough to begin writing, myself.
HTH and HAND.
https://uncledougsbunkerofhorror.blogspot.com/2015/09/the-scholastic-edgar-allan-poe-editions.html?m=1
***
Yeah, "Edited" version.
"Edited" is publishing code for "abridged" and/or "simplified." Scholastic Books often published "Edited" versions of classic literature.
According to George Dunce's "trusted friend:"
---
Yes, Scholastic books have edited Edgar Allan Poe's stories and poems for younger readers. Scholastic and other publishers often adapt classic literature to make it more accessible, removing potentially difficult or sensitive content.
How Poe's work has been adapted:
Abbreviation and simplification: Many Scholastic versions of Poe, such as Ten Great Mysteries and Eight Tales of Terror, are anthologies that include a selection of his most famous works. These are often introduced as "stories" rather than "tales" to make the language more accessible to children. The plots and language are sometimes simplified to match a reading level for middle school students.
Content adjustments: Historically, classic literature for younger readers has been revised to remove language or descriptions that are considered outdated or too frightening for the target audience. This could mean omitting or softening certain macabre details in Poe's famously gruesome stories like "The Tell-Tale Heart" or "The Pit and the Pendulum".
---
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
https://uncledougsbunkerofhorror.blogspot.com/2015/09/the-scholastic-edgar-allan-poe-editions.html?m=1
These are the type of Edgar Allan Poe collections that were all over Richards Junior High School in 1971.
I wasn't the only kid who read and enjoyed Edgar Allan Poe back then, but as far as I know, I'm the only person inspired enough to begin writing, myself.
HTH and HAND.
https://uncledougsbunkerofhorror.blogspot.com/2015/09/the-scholastic-edgar-allan-poe-editions.html?m=1
***
Inspired to begin writing is not the same as having been influenced by,
Influenced by means that your writing bears some degree of resemblance to an author, or literary work, that helped to develop, or changed, your writing style.
Herman Melville was strongly influenced by Shakespeare's "King Lear," which he read when in the middle of writing "Moby Dick." The Shakespeare/"Lear" influence can be readily seen in the monologues Ahad speaks:
rCLOh, Starbuck! it is a mild, mild wind, and a mild looking sky. On such a day"very much such a sweetness as this"I struck my first whale"a boy-harpooneer of eighteen! Forty"forty"forty years ago!"ago! Forty years of continual whaling! forty years of privation, and peril, and storm-time! forty years on the pitiless sea! for forty years has Ahab forsaken the peaceful land, for forty years to make war on the horrors of the deep! Aye and yes, Starbuck, out of those forty years I have not spent three ashore. When I think of this life I have led; the desolation of solitude it has been; the masoned, walled-town of a CaptainrCOs exclusiveness, which admits but small entrance to any sympathy from the green country without"oh, weariness! heaviness! Guinea-coast slavery of solitary command!"when I think of all this; only half-suspected, not so keenly known to me before"and how for forty years I have fed upon dry salted fare"fit emblem of the dry nourishment of my soil!"when the poorest landsman has had fresh fruit to his daily hand, and broken the worldrCOs fresh bread to my mouldy crusts"away, whole oceans away, from that young girl-wife I wedded past fifty, and sailed for Cape Horn the next day, leaving but one dent in my marriage pillow"wife? wife?"rather a widow with her husband alive! Aye, I widowed that poor girl when I married her, Starbuck; and then, the madness, the frenzy, the boiling blood and the smoking brow, with which, for a thousand lowerings old Ahab has furiously, foamingly chased his prey"more a demon than a man!"aye, aye! what a forty yearsrCO fool"fool"old fool, has old Ahab been! Why this strife of the chase? why weary, and palsy the arm at the oar, and the iron, and the lance? how the richer or better is Ahab now? Behold. Oh, Starbuck! is it not hard, that with this weary load I bear, one poor leg should have been snatched from under me? Here, brush this old hair aside; it blinds me, that I seem to weep. Locks so grey did never grow but from out some ashes! But do I look very old, so very, very old, Starbuck? I feel deadly faint, bowed, and humped, as though I were Adam, staggering beneath the piled centuries since Paradise. God! God! God!"crack my heart!"stave my brain!"mockery! mockery! bitter, biting mockery of grey hairs, have I lived enough joy to wear ye; and seem and feel thus intolerably old? Close! stand close to me, Starbuck; let me look into a human eye; it is better than to gaze into sea or sky; better than to gaze upon God. By the green land; by the bright hearth-stone! this is the magic glass, man; I see my wife and my child in thine eye. No, no; stay on board, on board!"lower not when I do; when branded Ahab gives chase to Moby Dick. That hazard shall not be thine. No, no! not with the far away home I see in that eye!rCY
and
rCLWhat is it, what nameless, inscrutable, unearthly thing is it; what cozening, hidden lord and master, and cruel, remorseless emperor commands me; that against all natural lovings and longings, I so keep pushing, and crowding, and jamming myself on all the time; recklessly making me ready to do what in my own proper, natural heart, I durst not so much as dare? Is Ahab, Ahab? Is it I, God, or who, that lifts this arm? But if the great sun move not of himself; but is as an errand-boy in heaven; nor one single star can revolve, but by some invisible power; how then can this one small heart beat; this one small brain think thoughts; unless God does that beating, does that thinking, does that living, and not I. By heaven, man, we are turned round and round in this world, like yonder windlass, and Fate is the handspike. And all the time, lo! that smiling sky, and this unsounded sea! Look! see yon Albicore! who put it into him to chase and fang that flying-fish? Where do murderers go, man! WhorCOs to doom, when the judge himself is dragged to the bar? But it is a mild, mild wind, and a mild looking sky; and the air smells now, as if it blew from a far-away meadow; they have been making hay somewhere under the slopes of the Andes, Starbuck, and the mowers are sleeping among the new-mown hay. Sleeping? Aye, toil we how we may, we all sleep at last on the field. Sleep? Aye, and rust amid greenness; as last yearrCOs scythes flung down, and left in the half-cut swaths"Starbuck!rCY
This is in sharp contrast to the far less theatrical voice of the narrator, Ishmael:
"I stuffed a shirt or two into my old carpet-bag, tucked it under my arm, and started for Cape Horn and the Pacific. Quitting the good city of old Manhatto, I duly arrived in New Bedford. It was a Saturday night in December. Much was I disappointed upon learning that the little packet for Nantucket had already sailed, and that no way of reaching that place would offer, till the following Monday.
"As most young candidates for the pains and penalties of whaling stop at this same New Bedford, thence to embark on their voyage, it may as well be related that I, for one, had no idea of so doing. For my mind was made up to sail in no other than a Nantucket craft, because there was a fine, boisterous something about everything connected with that famous old island, which amazingly pleased me. Besides though New Bedford has of late been gradually monopolising the business of whaling, and though in this matter poor old Nantucket is now much behind her, yet Nantucket was her great original"the Tyre of this Carthage;"the place where the first dead American whale was stranded. Where else but from Nantucket did those aboriginal whalemen, the Red-Men, first sally out in canoes to give chase to the Leviathan? And where but from Nantucket, too, did that first adventurous little sloop put forth, partly laden with imported cobblestones"so goes the story"to throw at the whales, in order to discover when they were nigh enough to risk a harpoon from the bowsprit?"
Your writing, OTOH, bears no resemblance to Poe's whatsoever.
Poe wrote formal, rhymed/metered poetry. You write free verse, usually in the form of stream of conscious thought fragments (a.k.a. Fragmentism).
Compare a sample of Poe's verse to a sample of yours:
And now, as the night was senescent
And star-dials pointed to morn"
As the star-dials hinted of morn"
At the end of our path a liquescent
And nebulous lustre was born,
Out of which a miraculous crescent
Arose with a duplicate horn"
Astarte's bediamonded crescent
Distinct with its duplicate horn.
vs
Got the okay to stop by
I step in from another world
Bearing gifts
Smiles to mask
my smashed heart.
Memory and dreams
This may pass
But the final statement
The final f**k off gesture
To me.
This is tantamount to comparing English and Chinese -- they're different languages which developed independently of one another, and (apart from being forms of written and verbal communication) have absolutely nothing in common.
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
https://uncledougsbunkerofhorror.blogspot.com/2015/09/the-scholastic-edgar-allan-poe-editions.html?m=1
These are the type of Edgar Allan Poe collections that were all over Richards Junior High School in 1971.
I wasn't the only kid who read and enjoyed Edgar Allan Poe back then, but as far as I know, I'm the only person inspired enough to begin writing, myself.
HTH and HAND.
https://uncledougsbunkerofhorror.blogspot.com/2015/09/the-scholastic-edgar-allan-poe-editions.html?m=1
***
Inspired to begin writing is not the same as having been influenced by,
Influenced by means that your writing bears some degree of resemblance to an author, or literary work, that helped to develop, or changed, your writing style.
Herman Melville was strongly influenced by Shakespeare's "King Lear," which he read when in the middle of writing "Moby Dick." The Shakespeare/"Lear" influence can be readily seen in the monologues Ahad speaks:
rCLOh, Starbuck! it is a mild, mild wind, and a mild looking sky. On such a day"very much such a sweetness as this"I struck my first whale"a boy-harpooneer of eighteen! Forty"forty"forty years ago!"ago! Forty years of continual whaling! forty years of privation, and peril, and storm-time! forty years on the pitiless sea! for forty years has Ahab forsaken the peaceful land, for forty years to make war on the horrors of the deep! Aye and yes, Starbuck, out of those forty years I have not spent three ashore. When I think of this life I have led; the desolation of solitude it has been; the masoned, walled-town of a CaptainrCOs exclusiveness, which admits but small entrance to any sympathy from the green country without"oh, weariness! heaviness! Guinea-coast slavery of solitary command!"when I think of all this; only half-suspected, not so keenly known to me before"and how for forty years I have fed upon dry salted fare"fit emblem of the dry nourishment of my soil!"when the poorest landsman has had fresh fruit to his daily hand, and broken the worldrCOs fresh bread to my mouldy crusts"away, whole oceans away, from that young girl-wife I wedded past fifty, and sailed for Cape Horn the next day, leaving but one dent in my marriage pillow"wife? wife?"rather a widow with her husband alive! Aye, I widowed that poor girl when I married her, Starbuck; and then, the madness, the frenzy, the boiling blood and the smoking brow, with which, for a thousand lowerings old Ahab has furiously, foamingly chased his prey"more a demon than a man!"aye, aye! what a forty yearsrCO fool"fool"old fool, has old Ahab been! Why this strife of the chase? why weary, and palsy the arm at the oar, and the iron, and the lance? how the richer or better is Ahab now? Behold. Oh, Starbuck! is it not hard, that with this weary load I bear, one poor leg should have been snatched from under me? Here, brush this old hair aside; it blinds me, that I seem to weep. Locks so grey did never grow but from out some ashes! But do I look very old, so very, very old, Starbuck? I feel deadly faint, bowed, and humped, as though I were Adam, staggering beneath the piled centuries since Paradise. God! God! God!"crack my heart!"stave my brain!"mockery! mockery! bitter, biting mockery of grey hairs, have I lived enough joy to wear ye; and seem and feel thus intolerably old? Close! stand close to me, Starbuck; let me look into a human eye; it is better than to gaze into sea or sky; better than to gaze upon God. By the green land; by the bright hearth-stone! this is the magic glass, man; I see my wife and my child in thine eye. No, no; stay on board, on board!"lower not when I do; when branded Ahab gives chase to Moby Dick. That hazard shall not be thine. No, no! not with the far away home I see in that eye!rCY
and
rCLWhat is it, what nameless, inscrutable, unearthly thing is it; what cozening, hidden lord and master, and cruel, remorseless emperor commands me; that against all natural lovings and longings, I so keep pushing, and crowding, and jamming myself on all the time; recklessly making me ready to do what in my own proper, natural heart, I durst not so much as dare? Is Ahab, Ahab? Is it I, God, or who, that lifts this arm? But if the great sun move not of himself; but is as an errand-boy in heaven; nor one single star can revolve, but by some invisible power; how then can this one small heart beat; this one small brain think thoughts; unless God does that beating, does that thinking, does that living, and not I. By heaven, man, we are turned round and round in this world, like yonder windlass, and Fate is the handspike. And all the time, lo! that smiling sky, and this unsounded sea! Look! see yon Albicore! who put it into him to chase and fang that flying-fish? Where do murderers go, man! WhorCOs to doom, when the judge himself is dragged to the bar? But it is a mild, mild wind, and a mild looking sky; and the air smells now, as if it blew from a far-away meadow; they have been making hay somewhere under the slopes of the Andes, Starbuck, and the mowers are sleeping among the new-mown hay. Sleeping? Aye, toil we how we may, we all sleep at last on the field. Sleep? Aye, and rust amid greenness; as last yearrCOs scythes flung down, and left in the half-cut swaths"Starbuck!rCY
This is in sharp contrast to the far less theatrical voice of the narrator, Ishmael:
"I stuffed a shirt or two into my old carpet-bag, tucked it under my arm, and started for Cape Horn and the Pacific. Quitting the good city of old Manhatto, I duly arrived in New Bedford. It was a Saturday night in December. Much was I disappointed upon learning that the little packet for Nantucket had already sailed, and that no way of reaching that place would offer, till the following Monday.
"As most young candidates for the pains and penalties of whaling stop at this same New Bedford, thence to embark on their voyage, it may as well be related that I, for one, had no idea of so doing. For my mind was made up to sail in no other than a Nantucket craft, because there was a fine, boisterous something about everything connected with that famous old island, which amazingly pleased me. Besides though New Bedford has of late been gradually monopolising the business of whaling, and though in this matter poor old Nantucket is now much behind her, yet Nantucket was her great original"the Tyre of this Carthage;"the place where the first dead American whale was stranded. Where else but from Nantucket did those aboriginal whalemen, the Red-Men, first sally out in canoes to give chase to the Leviathan? And where but from Nantucket, too, did that first adventurous little sloop put forth, partly laden with imported cobblestones"so goes the story"to throw at the whales, in order to discover when they were nigh enough to risk a harpoon from the bowsprit?"
Your writing, OTOH, bears no resemblance to Poe's whatsoever.
Poe wrote formal, rhymed/metered poetry. You write free verse, usually in the form of stream of conscious thought fragments (a.k.a. Fragmentism).
Compare a sample of Poe's verse to a sample of yours:
And now, as the night was senescent
And star-dials pointed to morn"
As the star-dials hinted of morn"
At the end of our path a liquescent
And nebulous lustre was born,
Out of which a miraculous crescent
Arose with a duplicate horn"
Astarte's bediamonded crescent
Distinct with its duplicate horn.
vs
Got the okay to stop by
I step in from another world
Bearing gifts
Smiles to mask
my smashed heart.
Memory and dreams
This may pass
But the final statement
The final f**k off gesture
To me.
This is tantamount to comparing English and Chinese -- they're different languages which developed independently of one another, and (apart from being forms of written and verbal communication) have absolutely nothing in common.
Edgar Allan Poe's influence on my poetry is more tone and subject matter than form.
The concept of Shadowville, for starters.
HTH and HAND.
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
https://uncledougsbunkerofhorror.blogspot.com/2015/09/the-scholastic
-edgar-allan-poe-editions.html?m=1
These are the type of Edgar Allan Poe collections that were all
over Richards Junior High School in 1971.
I wasn't the only kid who read and enjoyed Edgar Allan Poe back
then, but as far as I know, I'm the only person inspired enough to
begin writing, myself.
HTH and HAND.
https://uncledougsbunkerofhorror.blogspot.com/2015/09/the-scholastic
-edgar-allan-poe-editions.html?m=1
***
Inspired to begin writing is not the same as having been influenced
by,
Influenced by means that your writing bears some degree of
resemblance to an author, or literary work, that helped to develop,
or changed, your writing style.
Herman Melville was strongly influenced by Shakespeare's "King
Lear," which he read when in the middle of writing "Moby Dick." The
Shakespeare/"Lear" influence can be readily seen in the monologues
Ahad speaks:
rCLOh, Starbuck! it is a mild, mild wind, and a mild looking sky. On
such a day"very much such a sweetness as this"I struck my first
whale"a boy-harpooneer of eighteen! Forty"forty"forty years
ago!"ago! Forty years of continual whaling! forty years of
privation, and peril, and storm-time! forty years on the pitiless
sea! for forty years has Ahab forsaken the peaceful land, for forty
years to make war on the horrors of the deep! Aye and yes, Starbuck,
out of those forty years I have not spent three ashore. When I think
of this life I have led; the desolation of solitude it has been; the
masoned, walled-town of a CaptainrCOs exclusiveness, which admits
but small entrance to any sympathy from the green country
without"oh, weariness! heaviness! Guinea-coast slavery of solitary
command!"when I think of all this; only half-suspected, not so
keenly known to me before"and how for forty years I have fed upon
dry salted fare"fit emblem of the dry nourishment of my soil!"when
the poorest landsman has had fresh fruit to his daily hand, and
broken the worldrCOs fresh bread to my mouldy crusts"away, whole
oceans away, from that young girl-wife I wedded past fifty, and
sailed for Cape Horn the next day, leaving but one dent in my
marriage pillow"wife? wife?"rather a widow with her husband alive!
Aye, I widowed that poor girl when I married her, Starbuck; and
then, the madness, the frenzy, the boiling blood and the smoking
brow, with which, for a thousand lowerings old Ahab has furiously,
foamingly chased his prey"more a demon than a man!"aye, aye! what a
forty yearsrCO fool"fool"old fool, has old Ahab been! Why this
strife of the chase? why weary, and palsy the arm at the oar, and
the iron, and the lance? how the richer or better is Ahab now?
Behold. Oh, Starbuck! is it not hard, that with this weary load I
bear, one poor leg should have been snatched from under me? Here,
brush this old hair aside; it blinds me, that I seem to weep. Locks
so grey did never grow but from out some ashes! But do I look very
old, so very, very old, Starbuck? I feel deadly faint, bowed, and
humped, as though I were Adam, staggering beneath the piled
centuries since Paradise. God! God! God!"crack my heart!"stave my
brain!"mockery! mockery! bitter, biting mockery of grey hairs, have
I lived enough joy to wear ye; and seem and feel thus intolerably
old? Close! stand close to me, Starbuck; let me look into a human
eye; it is better than to gaze into sea or sky; better than to gaze
upon God. By the green land; by the bright hearth-stone! this is the
magic glass, man; I see my wife and my child in thine eye. No, no;
stay on board, on board!"lower not when I do; when branded Ahab
gives chase to Moby Dick. That hazard shall not be thine. No, no!
not with the far away home I see in that eye!rCY
and
rCLWhat is it, what nameless, inscrutable, unearthly thing is it;
what cozening, hidden lord and master, and cruel, remorseless
emperor commands me; that against all natural lovings and longings,
I so keep pushing, and crowding, and jamming myself on all the time;
recklessly making me ready to do what in my own proper, natural
heart, I durst not so much as dare? Is Ahab, Ahab? Is it I, God, or
who, that lifts this arm? But if the great sun move not of himself;
but is as an errand-boy in heaven; nor one single star can revolve,
but by some invisible power; how then can this one small heart beat;
this one small brain think thoughts; unless God does that beating,
does that thinking, does that living, and not I. By heaven, man, we
are turned round and round in this world, like yonder windlass, and
Fate is the handspike. And all the time, lo! that smiling sky, and
this unsounded sea! Look! see yon Albicore! who put it into him to
chase and fang that flying-fish? Where do murderers go, man! WhorCOs
to doom, when the judge himself is dragged to the bar? But it is a
mild, mild wind, and a mild looking sky; and the air smells now, as
if it blew from a far-away meadow; they have been making hay
somewhere under the slopes of the Andes, Starbuck, and the mowers
are sleeping among the new-mown hay. Sleeping? Aye, toil we how we
may, we all sleep at last on the field. Sleep? Aye, and rust amid
greenness; as last yearrCOs scythes flung down, and left in the
half-cut swaths"Starbuck!rCY
This is in sharp contrast to the far less theatrical voice of the
narrator, Ishmael:
"I stuffed a shirt or two into my old carpet-bag, tucked it under my
arm, and started for Cape Horn and the Pacific. Quitting the good
city of old Manhatto, I duly arrived in New Bedford. It was a
Saturday night in December. Much was I disappointed upon learning
that the little packet for Nantucket had already sailed, and that no
way of reaching that place would offer, till the following Monday.
"As most young candidates for the pains and penalties of whaling
stop at this same New Bedford, thence to embark on their voyage, it
may as well be related that I, for one, had no idea of so doing. For
my mind was made up to sail in no other than a Nantucket craft,
because there was a fine, boisterous something about everything
connected with that famous old island, which amazingly pleased me.
Besides though New Bedford has of late been gradually monopolising
the business of whaling, and though in this matter poor old
Nantucket is now much behind her, yet Nantucket was her great
original"the Tyre of this Carthage;"the place where the first dead
American whale was stranded. Where else but from Nantucket did those
aboriginal whalemen, the Red-Men, first sally out in canoes to give
chase to the Leviathan? And where but from Nantucket, too, did that
first adventurous little sloop put forth, partly laden with imported
cobblestones"so goes the story"to throw at the whales, in order to
discover when they were nigh enough to risk a harpoon from the
bowsprit?"
Your writing, OTOH, bears no resemblance to Poe's whatsoever.
Poe wrote formal, rhymed/metered poetry. You write free verse,
usually in the form of stream of conscious thought fragments (a.k.a.
Fragmentism).
Compare a sample of Poe's verse to a sample of yours:
And now, as the night was senescent
And star-dials pointed to morn"
As the star-dials hinted of morn"
At the end of our path a liquescent
And nebulous lustre was born,
Out of which a miraculous crescent
Arose with a duplicate horn"
Astarte's bediamonded crescent
Distinct with its duplicate horn.
vs
Got the okay to stop by
I step in from another world
Bearing gifts
Smiles to mask
my smashed heart.
Memory and dreams
This may pass
But the final statement
The final f**k off gesture
To me.
This is tantamount to comparing English and Chinese -- they're
different languages which developed independently of one another,
and (apart from being forms of written and verbal communication)
have absolutely nothing in common.
Edgar Allan Poe's influence on my poetry is more tone and subject
matter than form.
The concept of Shadowville, for starters.
HTH and HAND.
Shadowville sounds more like something out of LOTR. Poe's stories
were usually set in American and European towns and cities, past and
present.
Your concept of Poe seems taken directly out of the comic books and
Roger Corman films. Did you know that approximately 1/3 of Poe's
stories were comedy? Another 1/3 were science fiction and detective
stories. Only 1/3 of his tales fell under the horror category... and
none of them were set in a mythical "Shadowville."
And very little of your poetry that I've read could even be classified
as "dark." You mostly just ramble on incoherently about people you've
known with odd nicknames (usually name-dropped in passing, then
dropped from the poem entirely), drug trips, and ex-girlfriends who
all leave you a broken-hearted homeless little clown (a point which
you whine about incessantly).
The protagonists of Poe's horror tales are always driven by some form
of madness or obsession, that ultimately brings about their
destruction. Your poems just prattle on about various street
addresses (which have no meaning to anyone who didn't live in your neighborhood), going on dates to the local taco stand (but only on
Thursdays when they had a 5 for $1 special), or taking your date to
the parking lot of a bar to giggle at gay couples kissing. They
relate incoherent dreams about your father planting saplings, and
reminisce about how your father made apple cider, and bemoan buildings
from your youth that are no longer there. They talk about numerous
women you've slept with, and how you charmed the by pissing on their
freshly painted walls, or by putting your finger to their "hole."
Poe's characters were generally members of the upper classes. Your characters are seedy rednecks who spend their time doing drugs,
getting drunk, and getting laid.
Poe's poetry is romantic and his better known verses often depict
ethereal women who have died. Your poetry is tries to outdo Bukowski
in terms of filthiness and depicts truck stop hoes, $5 hoes walking
the streets, aging hoes in hotels, and a bunch of skanks you screwed
in the back seat of a car, or in the kitchen of a pizzeria where you
worked.
Poe was a highly educated Southern gentleman from a wealthy foster
family. You are a poorly educated Southern redneck whose spent his
life squatting in various sheds.
Speaking of which... what's up with the shed? It looks like it's been deserted for at least a year.
I remember noting that in several of your recent photos, you have the grizzled, weather beaten (stomped on) look of a homeless bum.
I was right, wasn't I?
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
Agsin, any actually insightful observer can detect the Edgar Allan Poe influences in my poetry and songs.
For another example:
Over You by Will Dockery & Brian Mallard: https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery/song/24520685-over-you--will-dockery-brian-mallard
***
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
Agsin, any actually insightful observer can detect the Edgar Allan Poe influences in my poetry and songs.
For another example:
Over You by Will Dockery & Brian Mallard:
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery/song/24520685-over-you--will-dockery-brian-mallard
***
Having memorized almost all of Poe's poetry, and read everything he's ever written multiple times, I am especially insightful when it comes to recognizing Poe's influence on other writers.
Poe would *never* have referred to a reader as an observer
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
Agsin, any actually insightful observer can detect the Edgar Allan Poe influences in my poetry and songs.
For another example:
Over You by Will Dockery & Brian Mallard:
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery/song/24520685-over-you--will-dockery-brian-mallard
***
Having memorized almost all of Poe's poetry, and read everything he's ever written multiple times, I am especially insightful when it comes to recognizing Poe's influence on other writers.
Poe would *never* have referred to a reader as an observer
You forgot to add "In my opinion," Pendragon.
EfyA
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
Agsin, any actually insightful observer can detect the Edgar Allan Poe influences in my poetry and songs.
For another example:
Over You by Will Dockery & Brian Mallard:
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery/song/24520685-over-you--will-dockery-brian-mallard
***
Having memorized almost all of Poe's poetry, and read everything he's ever written multiple times, I am especially insightful when it comes to recognizing Poe's influence on other writers.
Poe would *never* have referred to a reader as an observer
You forgot to add "In my opinion," Pendragon.
That is *not* my opinion
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
Agsin, any actually insightful observer can detect the Edgar Allan Poe influences in my poetry and songs.
For another example:
Over You by Will Dockery & Brian Mallard:
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery/song/24520685-over-you--will-dockery-brian-mallard
***
Having memorized almost all of Poe's poetry, and read everything he's ever written multiple times, I am especially insightful when it comes to recognizing Poe's influence on other writers.
Poe would *never* have referred to a reader as an observer
You forgot to add "In my opinion," Pendragon.
That is *not* my opinion
It isn't your opinion?
You don't agree with what you wrote?
EfyA
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
An example of my poetry that was influenced by the work of Edgar Allan Poe:
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery/song/24520685-over-you--will-dockery-brian-mallard
HTH and HAND.
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
An example of my poetry that was influenced by the work of Edgar Allan Poe: >>
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery/song/24520685-over-you--will-dockery-brian-mallard
HTH and HAND.
No, Donkey.
Again, making unsupported claims is just so much hot air.
I realize that you've no idea how to point out specific examples of influence, so here's an example:
STYLE:
POE:
At midnight, in the month of June,
I stand beneath the mystic moon.
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
The poems are written in the same meter: Iambic Octameter.
The poems employ similar words: moon/moonrise, mystic.
Both are the opening lines.
CONTENT:
POE:
Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car,
And driven the Hamadryad from the wood
To seek a shelter in some happier star?
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
Both poems lament the loss of the "magickal" elements of life, due to advancements in science/knowledge.
Both poems banish dryads from the earth.
CONCLUSION:
The above-cited verse of MMP's poem shows the distinct influence of Poe, in terms of both style and content.
DISCLAIMER:
The poem in question was selected because of its similarities to the poetry of Poe; however, the comparison is misleading, as I had not read either of the Poe poems quoted above at the time of its composition.
The poem in question is my earlier extant poem, written when I was 16 or so. At that time, I had read only about a half dozen of Poe's poems: The Raven, The Bells, Eldorado, To Helen, Annabel Lee, and The Conqueror Worm.
The first Poe example is from The Sleeper, the second from Sonnet--To Science. I would not become familiar with either of those poems until two years after mine had been composed.
I cannot explain the similarities, apart from supposing that Poe and I share the same Muse.
Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those of a corresponding work by Poe, and explain in what way/s they match.
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
An example of my poetry that was influenced by the work of Edgar Allan Poe: >>>
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery/song/24520685-over-you--will-dockery-brian-mallard
HTH and HAND.
No, Donkey.
Again, making unsupported claims is just so much hot air.
I realize that you've no idea how to point out specific examples of influence, so here's an example:
STYLE:
POE:
At midnight, in the month of June,
I stand beneath the mystic moon.
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
The poems are written in the same meter: Iambic Octameter.
The poems employ similar words: moon/moonrise, mystic.
Both are the opening lines.
CONTENT:
POE:
Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car,
And driven the Hamadryad from the wood
To seek a shelter in some happier star?
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
Both poems lament the loss of the "magickal" elements of life, due to advancements in science/knowledge.
Both poems banish dryads from the earth.
CONCLUSION:
The above-cited verse of MMP's poem shows the distinct influence of Poe, in terms of both style and content.
DISCLAIMER:
The poem in question was selected because of its similarities to the poetry of Poe; however, the comparison is misleading, as I had not read either of the Poe poems quoted above at the time of its composition.
The poem in question is my earlier extant poem, written when I was 16 or so. At that time, I had read only about a half dozen of Poe's poems: The Raven, The Bells, Eldorado, To Helen, Annabel Lee, and The Conqueror Worm.
The first Poe example is from The Sleeper, the second from Sonnet--To Science. I would not become familiar with either of those poems until two years after mine had been composed.
I cannot explain the similarities, apart from supposing that Poe and I share the same Muse.
Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those of a corresponding work by Poe, and explain in what way/s they match.
Here's one of my poems (set to music) which shows Edgar Allan Poe influences,:
https://youtu.be/OnBsZCiy_lI?si=ug9toTCAV2bMFE95
HTH and HAND.
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
An example of my poetry that was influenced by the work of Edgar Allan Poe:
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery/song/24520685-over-you--will-dockery-brian-mallard
HTH and HAND.
No, Donkey.
Again, making unsupported claims is just so much hot air.
I realize that you've no idea how to point out specific examples of influence, so here's an example:
STYLE:
POE:
At midnight, in the month of June,
I stand beneath the mystic moon.
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
The poems are written in the same meter: Iambic Octameter.
The poems employ similar words: moon/moonrise, mystic.
Both are the opening lines.
CONTENT:
POE:
Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car,
And driven the Hamadryad from the wood
To seek a shelter in some happier star?
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
Both poems lament the loss of the "magickal" elements of life, due to advancements in science/knowledge.
Both poems banish dryads from the earth.
CONCLUSION:
The above-cited verse of MMP's poem shows the distinct influence of Poe, in terms of both style and content.
DISCLAIMER:
The poem in question was selected because of its similarities to the poetry of Poe; however, the comparison is misleading, as I had not read either of the Poe poems quoted above at the time of its composition.
The poem in question is my earlier extant poem, written when I was 16 or so. At that time, I had read only about a half dozen of Poe's poems: The Raven, The Bells, Eldorado, To Helen, Annabel Lee, and The Conqueror Worm.
The first Poe example is from The Sleeper, the second from Sonnet--To Science. I would not become familiar with either of those poems until two years after mine had been composed.
I cannot explain the similarities, apart from supposing that Poe and I share the same Muse.
Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those of a corresponding work by Poe, and explain in what way/s they match.
Here's one of my poems (set to music) which shows Edgar Allan Poe influences,:
https://youtu.be/OnBsZCiy_lI?si=ug9toTCAV2bMFE95
HTH and HAND.
What part of "Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those of a corresponding work by Poe
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
An example of my poetry that was influenced by the work of Edgar Allan Poe:
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery/song/24520685-over-you--will-dockery-brian-mallard
HTH and HAND.
No, Donkey.
Again, making unsupported claims is just so much hot air.
I realize that you've no idea how to point out specific examples of influence, so here's an example:
STYLE:
POE:
At midnight, in the month of June,
I stand beneath the mystic moon.
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
The poems are written in the same meter: Iambic Octameter.
The poems employ similar words: moon/moonrise, mystic.
Both are the opening lines.
CONTENT:
POE:
Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car,
And driven the Hamadryad from the wood
To seek a shelter in some happier star?
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
Both poems lament the loss of the "magickal" elements of life, due to advancements in science/knowledge.
Both poems banish dryads from the earth.
CONCLUSION:
The above-cited verse of MMP's poem shows the distinct influence of Poe, in terms of both style and content.
DISCLAIMER:
The poem in question was selected because of its similarities to the poetry of Poe; however, the comparison is misleading, as I had not read either of the Poe poems quoted above at the time of its composition.
The poem in question is my earlier extant poem, written when I was 16 or so. At that time, I had read only about a half dozen of Poe's poems: The Raven, The Bells, Eldorado, To Helen, Annabel Lee, and The Conqueror Worm.
The first Poe example is from The Sleeper, the second from Sonnet--To Science. I would not become familiar with either of those poems until two years after mine had been composed.
I cannot explain the similarities, apart from supposing that Poe and I share the same Muse.
Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those of a corresponding work by Poe, and explain in what way/s they match.
Here's one of my poems (set to music) which shows Edgar Allan Poe influences,:
https://youtu.be/OnBsZCiy_lI?si=ug9toTCAV2bMFE95
HTH and HAND.
What part of "Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those of a corresponding work by Poe
I might do that later, when time permits.
HTH and HAND.
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
An example of my poetry that was influenced by the work of Edgar Allan Poe:
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery/song/24520685-over-you--will-dockery-brian-mallard
HTH and HAND.
No, Donkey.
Again, making unsupported claims is just so much hot air.
I realize that you've no idea how to point out specific examples of influence, so here's an example:
STYLE:
POE:
At midnight, in the month of June,
I stand beneath the mystic moon.
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
The poems are written in the same meter: Iambic Octameter.
The poems employ similar words: moon/moonrise, mystic.
Both are the opening lines.
CONTENT:
POE:
Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car,
And driven the Hamadryad from the wood
To seek a shelter in some happier star?
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
Both poems lament the loss of the "magickal" elements of life, due to advancements in science/knowledge.
Both poems banish dryads from the earth.
CONCLUSION:
The above-cited verse of MMP's poem shows the distinct influence of Poe, in terms of both style and content.
DISCLAIMER:
The poem in question was selected because of its similarities to the poetry of Poe; however, the comparison is misleading, as I had not read either of the Poe poems quoted above at the time of its composition.
The poem in question is my earlier extant poem, written when I was 16 or so. At that time, I had read only about a half dozen of Poe's poems: The Raven, The Bells, Eldorado, To Helen, Annabel Lee, and The Conqueror Worm.
The first Poe example is from The Sleeper, the second from Sonnet--To Science. I would not become familiar with either of those poems until two years after mine had been composed.
I cannot explain the similarities, apart from supposing that Poe and I share the same Muse.
Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those of a corresponding work by Poe, and explain in what way/s they match.
Here's one of my poems (set to music) which shows Edgar Allan Poe influences,:
https://youtu.be/OnBsZCiy_lI?si=ug9toTCAV2bMFE95
HTH and HAND.
What part of "Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those of a corresponding work by Poe
I might do that later, when time permits.
HTH and HAND.
LOL. You've got nothing but time
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
An example of my poetry that was influenced by the work of Edgar Allan Poe:
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery/song/24520685-over-you--will-dockery-brian-mallard
HTH and HAND.
No, Donkey.
Again, making unsupported claims is just so much hot air.
I realize that you've no idea how to point out specific examples of influence, so here's an example:
STYLE:
POE:
At midnight, in the month of June,
I stand beneath the mystic moon.
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
The poems are written in the same meter: Iambic Octameter.
The poems employ similar words: moon/moonrise, mystic.
Both are the opening lines.
CONTENT:
POE:
Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car,
And driven the Hamadryad from the wood
To seek a shelter in some happier star?
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
Both poems lament the loss of the "magickal" elements of life, due to advancements in science/knowledge.
Both poems banish dryads from the earth.
CONCLUSION:
The above-cited verse of MMP's poem shows the distinct influence of Poe, in terms of both style and content.
DISCLAIMER:
The poem in question was selected because of its similarities to the poetry of Poe; however, the comparison is misleading, as I had not read either of the Poe poems quoted above at the time of its composition.
The poem in question is my earlier extant poem, written when I was 16 or so. At that time, I had read only about a half dozen of Poe's poems: The Raven, The Bells, Eldorado, To Helen, Annabel Lee, and The Conqueror Worm.
The first Poe example is from The Sleeper, the second from Sonnet--To Science. I would not become familiar with either of those poems until two years after mine had been composed.
I cannot explain the similarities, apart from supposing that Poe and I share the same Muse.
Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those of a corresponding work by Poe, and explain in what way/s they match.
Here's one of my poems (set to music) which shows Edgar Allan Poe influences,:
https://youtu.be/OnBsZCiy_lI?si=ug9toTCAV2bMFE95
HTH and HAND.
What part of "Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those of a corresponding work by Poe
I might do that later, when time permits.
HTH and HAND.
LOL. You've got nothing but time
I'll be the judge of that
EfyA
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
An example of my poetry that was influenced by the work of Edgar Allan Poe:
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery/song/24520685-over-you--will-dockery-brian-mallard
HTH and HAND.
No, Donkey.
Again, making unsupported claims is just so much hot air.
I realize that you've no idea how to point out specific examples of influence, so here's an example:
STYLE:
POE:
At midnight, in the month of June,
I stand beneath the mystic moon.
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
The poems are written in the same meter: Iambic Octameter.
The poems employ similar words: moon/moonrise, mystic.
Both are the opening lines.
CONTENT:
POE:
Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car,
And driven the Hamadryad from the wood
To seek a shelter in some happier star?
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
Both poems lament the loss of the "magickal" elements of life, due to advancements in science/knowledge.
Both poems banish dryads from the earth.
CONCLUSION:
The above-cited verse of MMP's poem shows the distinct influence of Poe, in terms of both style and content.
DISCLAIMER:
The poem in question was selected because of its similarities to the poetry of Poe; however, the comparison is misleading, as I had not read either of the Poe poems quoted above at the time of its composition.
The poem in question is my earlier extant poem, written when I was 16 or so. At that time, I had read only about a half dozen of Poe's poems: The Raven, The Bells, Eldorado, To Helen, Annabel Lee, and The Conqueror Worm.
The first Poe example is from The Sleeper, the second from Sonnet--To Science. I would not become familiar with either of those poems until two years after mine had been composed.
I cannot explain the similarities, apart from supposing that Poe and I share the same Muse.
Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those of a corresponding work by Poe, and explain in what way/s they match.
Here's one of my poems (set to music) which shows Edgar Allan Poe influences,:
https://youtu.be/OnBsZCiy_lI?si=ug9toTCAV2bMFE95
HTH and HAND.
What part of "Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those of a corresponding work by Poe
I might do that later, when time permits.
HTH and HAND.
LOL. You've got nothing but time
I'll be the judge of that
the rest of us will be making our own assessments as well
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
An example of my poetry that was influenced by the work of Edgar Allan Poe:
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery/song/24520685-over-you--will-dockery-brian-mallard
HTH and HAND.
No, Donkey.
Again, making unsupported claims is just so much hot air.
I realize that you've no idea how to point out specific examples of influence, so here's an example:
STYLE:
POE:
At midnight, in the month of June,
I stand beneath the mystic moon.
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
The poems are written in the same meter: Iambic Octameter.
The poems employ similar words: moon/moonrise, mystic.
Both are the opening lines.
CONTENT:
POE:
Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car,
And driven the Hamadryad from the wood
To seek a shelter in some happier star?
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
Both poems lament the loss of the "magickal" elements of life, due to advancements in science/knowledge.
Both poems banish dryads from the earth.
CONCLUSION:
The above-cited verse of MMP's poem shows the distinct influence of Poe, in terms of both style and content.
DISCLAIMER:
The poem in question was selected because of its similarities to the poetry of Poe; however, the comparison is misleading, as I had not read either of the Poe poems quoted above at the time of its composition.
The poem in question is my earlier extant poem, written when I was 16 or so. At that time, I had read only about a half dozen of Poe's poems: The Raven, The Bells, Eldorado, To Helen, Annabel Lee, and The Conqueror Worm.
The first Poe example is from The Sleeper, the second from Sonnet--To Science. I would not become familiar with either of those poems until two years after mine had been composed.
I cannot explain the similarities, apart from supposing that Poe and I share the same Muse.
Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those of a corresponding work by Poe, and explain in what way/s they match.
Here's one of my poems (set to music) which shows Edgar Allan Poe influences,:
https://youtu.be/OnBsZCiy_lI?si=ug9toTCAV2bMFE95
HTH and HAND.
What part of "Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those of a corresponding work by Poe
I might do that later, when time permits.
HTH and HAND.
LOL. You've got nothing but time
I'll be the judge of that
the rest of us will be making our own assessments as well
Obviously, since you and the others in the monkey team are obsessive trolls.
Meanwhile, I stick with the poetry and art, and remember what the Bible says:
"Judge not..."
EfOe
-
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
An example of my poetry that was influenced by the work of
Edgar Allan Poe:
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery/song/24520685-over-you- >>>>>>>> -will-dockery-brian-mallard
HTH and HAND.
No, Donkey.
Again, making unsupported claims is just so much hot air.
I realize that you've no idea how to point out specific examples >>>>>>> of influence, so here's an example:
STYLE:
POE:
At midnight, in the month of June,
I stand beneath the mystic moon.
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
The poems are written in the same meter: Iambic Octameter.
The poems employ similar words: moon/moonrise, mystic.
Both are the opening lines.
CONTENT:
POE:
Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car,
And driven the Hamadryad from the wood
To seek a shelter in some happier star?
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
Both poems lament the loss of the "magickal" elements of life,
due to advancements in science/knowledge.
Both poems banish dryads from the earth.
CONCLUSION:
The above-cited verse of MMP's poem shows the distinct influence >>>>>>> of Poe, in terms of both style and content.
DISCLAIMER:
The poem in question was selected because of its similarities to >>>>>>> the poetry of Poe; however, the comparison is misleading, as I
had not read either of the Poe poems quoted above at the time of >>>>>>> its composition.
The poem in question is my earlier extant poem, written when I
was 16 or so. At that time, I had read only about a half dozen
of Poe's poems: The Raven, The Bells, Eldorado, To Helen,
Annabel Lee, and The Conqueror Worm.
The first Poe example is from The Sleeper, the second from
Sonnet--To Science. I would not become familiar with either of
those poems until two years after mine had been composed.
I cannot explain the similarities, apart from supposing that Poe >>>>>>> and I share the same Muse.
Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those of a
corresponding work by Poe, and explain in what way/s they match.
Here's one of my poems (set to music) which shows Edgar Allan Poe
influences,:
https://youtu.be/OnBsZCiy_lI?si=ug9toTCAV2bMFE95
HTH and HAND.
What part of "Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside
those of a corresponding work by Poe
I might do that later, when time permits.
HTH and HAND.
LOL. You've got nothing but time
I'll be the judge of that
EfyA
Sorry, Donkey. But the rest of us will be making our own assessments
as well.
Here's mine:
1. Hasn't been gainfully employed in the past 25 years.
2. No longer has a mentally impaired brother to feed cigarettes to.
3. Has either let his shed (home) fall into an extreme state of
disrepair, or is now leading the life of a Bharma Dumb on a dump site overlooking the Chattahoochee.
4. Walks to public areas around town to
use free wifi. Uses free wifi to say "Hi" to Jordy 6+ times a day.
5. Picks his nose and eats his boogers.
Have I covered everything in your busy daily schedule?
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
An example of my poetry that was influenced by the work of Edgar Allan Poe:
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery/song/24520685-over-you--will-dockery-brian-mallard
HTH and HAND.
No, Donkey.
Again, making unsupported claims is just so much hot air.
I realize that you've no idea how to point out specific examples of influence, so here's an example:
STYLE:
POE:
At midnight, in the month of June,
I stand beneath the mystic moon.
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
The poems are written in the same meter: Iambic Octameter.
The poems employ similar words: moon/moonrise, mystic.
Both are the opening lines.
CONTENT:
POE:
Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car,
And driven the Hamadryad from the wood
To seek a shelter in some happier star?
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
Both poems lament the loss of the "magickal" elements of life, due to advancements in science/knowledge.
Both poems banish dryads from the earth.
CONCLUSION:
The above-cited verse of MMP's poem shows the distinct influence of Poe, in terms of both style and content.
DISCLAIMER:
The poem in question was selected because of its similarities to the poetry of Poe; however, the comparison is misleading, as I had not read either of the Poe poems quoted above at the time of its composition.
The poem in question is my earlier extant poem, written when I was 16 or so. At that time, I had read only about a half dozen of Poe's poems: The Raven, The Bells, Eldorado, To Helen, Annabel Lee, and The Conqueror Worm.
The first Poe example is from The Sleeper, the second from Sonnet--To Science. I would not become familiar with either of those poems until two years after mine had been composed.
I cannot explain the similarities, apart from supposing that Poe and I share the same Muse.
Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those of a corresponding work by Poe, and explain in what way/s they match.
Here's one of my poems (set to music) which shows Edgar Allan Poe influences,:
https://youtu.be/OnBsZCiy_lI?si=ug9toTCAV2bMFE95
HTH and HAND.
What part of "Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those of a corresponding work by Poe
I might do that later, when time permits.
HTH and HAND.
LOL. You've got nothing but time
I'll be the judge of that
the rest of us will be making our own assessments as well
Obviously, since you and the others in the monkey team are obsessive trolls. >>
Meanwhile, I stick with the poetry and art, and remember what the Bible says:
"Judge not..."
EfOe
-
You don't think that pronouncing others "obsessive trolls" constitutes passing judgement on others
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
An example of my poetry that was influenced by the work of
Edgar Allan Poe:
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery/song/24520685-over-you- -will-dockery-brian-mallard
HTH and HAND.
No, Donkey.
Again, making unsupported claims is just so much hot air.
I realize that you've no idea how to point out specific examples
of influence, so here's an example:
STYLE:
POE:
At midnight, in the month of June,
I stand beneath the mystic moon.
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
The poems are written in the same meter: Iambic Octameter.
The poems employ similar words: moon/moonrise, mystic.
Both are the opening lines.
CONTENT:
POE:
Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car,
And driven the Hamadryad from the wood
To seek a shelter in some happier star?
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
Both poems lament the loss of the "magickal" elements of life,
due to advancements in science/knowledge.
Both poems banish dryads from the earth.
CONCLUSION:
The above-cited verse of MMP's poem shows the distinct influence
of Poe, in terms of both style and content.
DISCLAIMER:
The poem in question was selected because of its similarities to
the poetry of Poe; however, the comparison is misleading, as I
had not read either of the Poe poems quoted above at the time of
its composition.
The poem in question is my earlier extant poem, written when I
was 16 or so. At that time, I had read only about a half dozen
of Poe's poems: The Raven, The Bells, Eldorado, To Helen,
Annabel Lee, and The Conqueror Worm.
The first Poe example is from The Sleeper, the second from
Sonnet--To Science. I would not become familiar with either of
those poems until two years after mine had been composed.
I cannot explain the similarities, apart from supposing that Poe
and I share the same Muse.
Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those of a
corresponding work by Poe, and explain in what way/s they match.
Here's one of my poems (set to music) which shows Edgar Allan Poe influences,:
https://youtu.be/OnBsZCiy_lI?si=ug9toTCAV2bMFE95
HTH and HAND.
What part of "Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside
those of a corresponding work by Poe
I might do that later, when time permits.
HTH and HAND.
LOL. You've got nothing but time
I'll be the judge of that
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
An example of my poetry that was influenced by the work of Edgar Allan Poe:
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery/song/24520685-over-you--will-dockery-brian-mallard
HTH and HAND.
No, Donkey.
Again, making unsupported claims is just so much hot air.
I realize that you've no idea how to point out specific examples of influence, so here's an example:
STYLE:
POE:
At midnight, in the month of June,
I stand beneath the mystic moon.
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
The poems are written in the same meter: Iambic Octameter. >>>>>>>>>>
The poems employ similar words: moon/moonrise, mystic.
Both are the opening lines.
CONTENT:
POE:
Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car,
And driven the Hamadryad from the wood
To seek a shelter in some happier star?
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
Both poems lament the loss of the "magickal" elements of life, due to advancements in science/knowledge.
Both poems banish dryads from the earth.
CONCLUSION:
The above-cited verse of MMP's poem shows the distinct influence of Poe, in terms of both style and content.
DISCLAIMER:
The poem in question was selected because of its similarities to the poetry of Poe; however, the comparison is misleading, as I had not read either of the Poe poems quoted above at the time of its composition.
The poem in question is my earlier extant poem, written when I was 16 or so. At that time, I had read only about a half dozen of Poe's poems: The Raven, The Bells, Eldorado, To Helen, Annabel Lee, and The Conqueror Worm.
The first Poe example is from The Sleeper, the second from Sonnet--To Science. I would not become familiar with either of those poems until two years after mine had been composed.
I cannot explain the similarities, apart from supposing that Poe and I share the same Muse.
Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those of a corresponding work by Poe, and explain in what way/s they match.
Here's one of my poems (set to music) which shows Edgar Allan Poe influences,:
https://youtu.be/OnBsZCiy_lI?si=ug9toTCAV2bMFE95
HTH and HAND.
What part of "Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those of a corresponding work by Poe
I might do that later, when time permits.
HTH and HAND.
LOL. You've got nothing but time
I'll be the judge of that
the rest of us will be making our own assessments as well
Obviously, since you and the others in the monkey team are obsessive trolls.
Meanwhile, I stick with the poetry and art, and remember what the Bible says:
"Judge not..."
EfOe
-
You don't think that pronouncing others "obsessive trolls" constitutes passing judgement on others
No, I'm just making an observation, not a judgement.
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838 >>>>>>>>>>>>
An example of my poetry that was influenced by the work of Edgar Allan Poe:
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery/song/24520685-over-you--will-dockery-brian-mallard
HTH and HAND.
No, Donkey.
Again, making unsupported claims is just so much hot air. >>>>>>>>>>>
I realize that you've no idea how to point out specific examples of influence, so here's an example:
STYLE:
POE:
At midnight, in the month of June,
I stand beneath the mystic moon.
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
The poems are written in the same meter: Iambic Octameter. >>>>>>>>>>>
The poems employ similar words: moon/moonrise, mystic.
Both are the opening lines.
CONTENT:
POE:
Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car,
And driven the Hamadryad from the wood
To seek a shelter in some happier star?
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
Both poems lament the loss of the "magickal" elements of life, due to advancements in science/knowledge.
Both poems banish dryads from the earth.
CONCLUSION:
The above-cited verse of MMP's poem shows the distinct influence of Poe, in terms of both style and content.
DISCLAIMER:
The poem in question was selected because of its similarities to the poetry of Poe; however, the comparison is misleading, as I had not read either of the Poe poems quoted above at the time of its composition.
The poem in question is my earlier extant poem, written when I was 16 or so. At that time, I had read only about a half dozen of Poe's poems: The Raven, The Bells, Eldorado, To Helen, Annabel Lee, and The Conqueror Worm.
The first Poe example is from The Sleeper, the second from Sonnet--To Science. I would not become familiar with either of those poems until two years after mine had been composed.
I cannot explain the similarities, apart from supposing that Poe and I share the same Muse.
Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those of a corresponding work by Poe, and explain in what way/s they match.
Here's one of my poems (set to music) which shows Edgar Allan Poe influences,:
https://youtu.be/OnBsZCiy_lI?si=ug9toTCAV2bMFE95
HTH and HAND.
What part of "Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those of a corresponding work by Poe
I might do that later, when time permits.
HTH and HAND.
LOL. You've got nothing but time
I'll be the judge of that
the rest of us will be making our own assessments as well
Obviously, since you and the others in the monkey team are obsessive trolls.
Meanwhile, I stick with the poetry and art, and remember what the Bible says:
"Judge not..."
EfOe
-
You don't think that pronouncing others "obsessive trolls" constitutes passing judgement on others
No, I'm just making an observation, not a judgement.
Make that sanctimonious hypocrite.
NancyGene wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838 >>>>>>>>>>>>>
An example of my poetry that was influenced by the work of Edgar Allan Poe:
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery/song/24520685-over-you--will-dockery-brian-mallard
HTH and HAND.
No, Donkey.
Again, making unsupported claims is just so much hot air. >>>>>>>>>>>>
I realize that you've no idea how to point out specific examples of influence, so here's an example:
STYLE:
POE:
At midnight, in the month of June,
I stand beneath the mystic moon.
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
The poems are written in the same meter: Iambic Octameter. >>>>>>>>>>>>
The poems employ similar words: moon/moonrise, mystic. >>>>>>>>>>>>
Both are the opening lines.
CONTENT:
POE:
Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car,
And driven the Hamadryad from the wood
To seek a shelter in some happier star?
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
Both poems lament the loss of the "magickal" elements of life, due to advancements in science/knowledge.
Both poems banish dryads from the earth.
CONCLUSION:
The above-cited verse of MMP's poem shows the distinct influence of Poe, in terms of both style and content.
DISCLAIMER:
The poem in question was selected because of its similarities to the poetry of Poe; however, the comparison is misleading, as I had not read either of the Poe poems quoted above at the time of its composition.
The poem in question is my earlier extant poem, written when I was 16 or so. At that time, I had read only about a half dozen of Poe's poems: The Raven, The Bells, Eldorado, To Helen, Annabel Lee, and The Conqueror Worm.
The first Poe example is from The Sleeper, the second from Sonnet--To Science. I would not become familiar with either of those poems until two years after mine had been composed.
I cannot explain the similarities, apart from supposing that Poe and I share the same Muse.
Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those of a corresponding work by Poe, and explain in what way/s they match.
Here's one of my poems (set to music) which shows Edgar Allan Poe influences,:
https://youtu.be/OnBsZCiy_lI?si=ug9toTCAV2bMFE95
HTH and HAND.
What part of "Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those of a corresponding work by Poe
I might do that later, when time permits.
HTH and HAND.
LOL. You've got nothing but time
I'll be the judge of that
the rest of us will be making our own assessments as well
Obviously, since you and the others in the monkey team are obsessive trolls.
Meanwhile, I stick with the poetry and art, and remember what the Bible says:
"Judge not..."
EfOe
-
You don't think that pronouncing others "obsessive trolls" constitutes passing judgement on others
No, I'm just making an observation, not a judgement.
Make that sanctimonious hypocrite.
Make that sanctimonious, hypocrite Douchebag.
NancyGene wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838 >>>>>>>>>>>>>
An example of my poetry that was influenced by the work of Edgar Allan Poe:
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery/song/24520685-over-you--will-dockery-brian-mallard
HTH and HAND.
No, Donkey.
Again, making unsupported claims is just so much hot air. >>>>>>>>>>>>
I realize that you've no idea how to point out specific examples of influence, so here's an example:
STYLE:
POE:
At midnight, in the month of June,
I stand beneath the mystic moon.
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
The poems are written in the same meter: Iambic Octameter. >>>>>>>>>>>>
The poems employ similar words: moon/moonrise, mystic. >>>>>>>>>>>>
Both are the opening lines.
CONTENT:
POE:
Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car,
And driven the Hamadryad from the wood
To seek a shelter in some happier star?
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
Both poems lament the loss of the "magickal" elements of life, due to advancements in science/knowledge.
Both poems banish dryads from the earth.
CONCLUSION:
The above-cited verse of MMP's poem shows the distinct influence of Poe, in terms of both style and content.
DISCLAIMER:
The poem in question was selected because of its similarities to the poetry of Poe; however, the comparison is misleading, as I had not read either of the Poe poems quoted above at the time of its composition.
The poem in question is my earlier extant poem, written when I was 16 or so. At that time, I had read only about a half dozen of Poe's poems: The Raven, The Bells, Eldorado, To Helen, Annabel Lee, and The Conqueror Worm.
The first Poe example is from The Sleeper, the second from Sonnet--To Science. I would not become familiar with either of those poems until two years after mine had been composed.
I cannot explain the similarities, apart from supposing that Poe and I share the same Muse.
Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those of a corresponding work by Poe, and explain in what way/s they match.
Here's one of my poems (set to music) which shows Edgar Allan Poe influences,:
https://youtu.be/OnBsZCiy_lI?si=ug9toTCAV2bMFE95
HTH and HAND.
What part of "Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those of a corresponding work by Poe
I might do that later, when time permits.
HTH and HAND.
LOL. You've got nothing but time
I'll be the judge of that
the rest of us will be making our own assessments as well
Obviously, since you and the others in the monkey team are obsessive trolls.
Meanwhile, I stick with the poetry and art, and remember what the Bible says:
"Judge not..."
EfOe
-
You don't think that pronouncing others "obsessive trolls" constitutes passing judgement on others
No, I'm just making an observation, not a judgement.
Make that sanctimonious hypocrite.
Make that sanctimonious, hypocrite Douchebag.
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
Will-Dockery wrote:
NancyGene wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security >>>>>>>>>>>>>>> And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838 >>>>>>>>>>>>>>
An example of my poetry that was influenced by the work of Edgar Allan Poe:
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery/song/24520685-over-you--will-dockery-brian-mallard
HTH and HAND.
No, Donkey.
Again, making unsupported claims is just so much hot air. >>>>>>>>>>>>>
I realize that you've no idea how to point out specific examples of influence, so here's an example:
STYLE:
POE:
At midnight, in the month of June,
I stand beneath the mystic moon.
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
The poems are written in the same meter: Iambic Octameter. >>>>>>>>>>>>>
The poems employ similar words: moon/moonrise, mystic. >>>>>>>>>>>>>
Both are the opening lines.
CONTENT:
POE:
Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car,
And driven the Hamadryad from the wood
To seek a shelter in some happier star?
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
Both poems lament the loss of the "magickal" elements of life, due to advancements in science/knowledge.
Both poems banish dryads from the earth.
CONCLUSION:
The above-cited verse of MMP's poem shows the distinct influence of Poe, in terms of both style and content.
DISCLAIMER:
The poem in question was selected because of its similarities to the poetry of Poe; however, the comparison is misleading, as I had not read either of the Poe poems quoted above at the time of its composition.
The poem in question is my earlier extant poem, written when I was 16 or so. At that time, I had read only about a half dozen of Poe's poems: The Raven, The Bells, Eldorado, To Helen, Annabel Lee, and The Conqueror Worm.
The first Poe example is from The Sleeper, the second from Sonnet--To Science. I would not become familiar with either of those poems until two years after mine had been composed.
I cannot explain the similarities, apart from supposing that Poe and I share the same Muse.
Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those of a corresponding work by Poe, and explain in what way/s they match.
Here's one of my poems (set to music) which shows Edgar Allan Poe influences,:
https://youtu.be/OnBsZCiy_lI?si=ug9toTCAV2bMFE95
HTH and HAND.
What part of "Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those of a corresponding work by Poe
I might do that later, when time permits.
HTH and HAND.
LOL. You've got nothing but time
I'll be the judge of that
the rest of us will be making our own assessments as well
Obviously, since you and the others in the monkey team are obsessive trolls.
Meanwhile, I stick with the poetry and art, and remember what the Bible says:
"Judge not..."
EfOe
-
You don't think that pronouncing others "obsessive trolls" constitutes passing judgement on others
No, I'm just making an observation, not a judgement.
Make that sanctimonious hypocrite.
Make that sanctimonious, hypocrite Douchebag.
Tag team tizzy noted.
EfyA
NancyGene wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security >>>>>>>>>>>>>>> And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838 >>>>>>>>>>>>>>
An example of my poetry that was influenced by the work >>>>>>>>>>>>>> of Edgar Allan Poe:
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery/song/24520685-ove >>>>>>>>>>>>>> r-you--will-dockery-brian-mallard
HTH and HAND.
No, Donkey.
Again, making unsupported claims is just so much hot air. >>>>>>>>>>>>>
I realize that you've no idea how to point out specific >>>>>>>>>>>>> examples of influence, so here's an example:
STYLE:
POE:
At midnight, in the month of June,
I stand beneath the mystic moon.
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
The poems are written in the same meter: Iambic Octameter. >>>>>>>>>>>>>
The poems employ similar words: moon/moonrise, mystic. >>>>>>>>>>>>>
Both are the opening lines.
CONTENT:
POE:
Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car,
And driven the Hamadryad from the wood
To seek a shelter in some happier star?
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
Both poems lament the loss of the "magickal" elements of >>>>>>>>>>>>> life, due to advancements in science/knowledge.
Both poems banish dryads from the earth.
CONCLUSION:
The above-cited verse of MMP's poem shows the distinct >>>>>>>>>>>>> influence of Poe, in terms of both style and content. >>>>>>>>>>>>>
DISCLAIMER:
The poem in question was selected because of its
similarities to the poetry of Poe; however, the comparison >>>>>>>>>>>>> is misleading, as I had not read either of the Poe poems >>>>>>>>>>>>> quoted above at the time of its composition.
The poem in question is my earlier extant poem, written >>>>>>>>>>>>> when I was 16 or so. At that time, I had read only about a >>>>>>>>>>>>> half dozen of Poe's poems: The Raven, The Bells, Eldorado, >>>>>>>>>>>>> To Helen, Annabel Lee, and The Conqueror Worm.
The first Poe example is from The Sleeper, the second from >>>>>>>>>>>>> Sonnet--To Science. I would not become familiar with >>>>>>>>>>>>> either of those poems until two years after mine had been >>>>>>>>>>>>> composed.
I cannot explain the similarities, apart from supposing >>>>>>>>>>>>> that Poe and I share the same Muse.
Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those >>>>>>>>>>>>> of a corresponding work by Poe, and explain in what way/s >>>>>>>>>>>>> they match.
Here's one of my poems (set to music) which shows Edgar >>>>>>>>>>>> Allan Poe influences,:
https://youtu.be/OnBsZCiy_lI?si=ug9toTCAV2bMFE95
HTH and HAND.
What part of "Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines >>>>>>>>>>> beside those of a corresponding work by Poe
I might do that later, when time permits.
HTH and HAND.
LOL. You've got nothing but time
I'll be the judge of that
the rest of us will be making our own assessments as well
Obviously, since you and the others in the monkey team are
obsessive trolls.
Meanwhile, I stick with the poetry and art, and remember what the
Bible says:
"Judge not..."
EfOe
-
You don't think that pronouncing others "obsessive trolls"
constitutes passing judgement on others
No, I'm just making an observation, not a judgement.
Make that sanctimonious hypocrite.
Make that sanctimonious, hypocrite Douchebag.
Make that sanctimonious, nose-picking, hypocrite Douchebag.
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
An example of my poetry that was influenced by the work of Edgar Allan Poe:
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery/song/24520685-over-you--will-dockery-brian-mallard
HTH and HAND.
No, Donkey.
Again, making unsupported claims is just so much hot air.
I realize that you've no idea how to point out specific examples of influence, so here's an example:
STYLE:
POE:
At midnight, in the month of June,
I stand beneath the mystic moon.
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
The poems are written in the same meter: Iambic Octameter.
The poems employ similar words: moon/moonrise, mystic.
Both are the opening lines.
CONTENT:
POE:
Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car,
And driven the Hamadryad from the wood
To seek a shelter in some happier star?
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
Both poems lament the loss of the "magickal" elements of life, due to advancements in science/knowledge.
Both poems banish dryads from the earth.
CONCLUSION:
The above-cited verse of MMP's poem shows the distinct influence of Poe, in terms of both style and content.
DISCLAIMER:
The poem in question was selected because of its similarities to the poetry of Poe; however, the comparison is misleading, as I had not read either of the Poe poems quoted above at the time of its composition.
The poem in question is my earlier extant poem, written when I was 16 or so. At that time, I had read only about a half dozen of Poe's poems: The Raven, The Bells, Eldorado, To Helen, Annabel Lee, and The Conqueror Worm.
The first Poe example is from The Sleeper, the second from Sonnet--To Science. I would not become familiar with either of those poems until two years after mine had been composed.
I cannot explain the similarities, apart from supposing that Poe and I share the same Muse.
Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those of a corresponding work by Poe, and explain in what way/s they match.
Here's one of my poems (set to music) which shows Edgar Allan Poe influences,:
https://youtu.be/OnBsZCiy_lI?si=ug9toTCAV2bMFE95
HTH and HAND.
What part of "Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those of a corresponding work by Poe
I might do that later, when time permits.
HTH and HAND.
LOL. You've got nothing but time
I'll be the judge of that
the rest of us will be making our own assessments as well
Cujo DeSockpuppet wrote:
mpsilvertone@yahoo-dot-com.no-spam.invalid (HarryLime) wrote in news:HrecnQiHe8wdsWz1nZ2dnZfqnPSdnZ2d@giganews.com:
NancyGene wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
An example of my poetry that was influenced by the work
of Edgar Allan Poe:
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery/song/24520685-ove
r-you--will-dockery-brian-mallard
HTH and HAND.
No, Donkey.
Again, making unsupported claims is just so much hot air.
I realize that you've no idea how to point out specific
examples of influence, so here's an example:
STYLE:
POE:
At midnight, in the month of June,
I stand beneath the mystic moon.
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
The poems are written in the same meter: Iambic Octameter.
The poems employ similar words: moon/moonrise, mystic.
Both are the opening lines.
CONTENT:
POE:
Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car,
And driven the Hamadryad from the wood
To seek a shelter in some happier star?
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
Both poems lament the loss of the "magickal" elements of
life, due to advancements in science/knowledge.
Both poems banish dryads from the earth.
CONCLUSION:
The above-cited verse of MMP's poem shows the distinct
influence of Poe, in terms of both style and content.
DISCLAIMER:
The poem in question was selected because of its
similarities to the poetry of Poe; however, the comparison
is misleading, as I had not read either of the Poe poems
quoted above at the time of its composition.
The poem in question is my earlier extant poem, written
when I was 16 or so. At that time, I had read only about a
half dozen of Poe's poems: The Raven, The Bells, Eldorado,
To Helen, Annabel Lee, and The Conqueror Worm.
The first Poe example is from The Sleeper, the second from
Sonnet--To Science. I would not become familiar with
either of those poems until two years after mine had been
composed.
I cannot explain the similarities, apart from supposing
that Poe and I share the same Muse.
Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those
of a corresponding work by Poe, and explain in what way/s
they match.
Here's one of my poems (set to music) which shows Edgar
Allan Poe influences,:
https://youtu.be/OnBsZCiy_lI?si=ug9toTCAV2bMFE95
HTH and HAND.
What part of "Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines
beside those of a corresponding work by Poe
I might do that later, when time permits.
HTH and HAND.
LOL. You've got nothing but time
I'll be the judge of that
the rest of us will be making our own assessments as well
Obviously, since you and the others in the monkey team are
obsessive trolls.
Meanwhile, I stick with the poetry and art, and remember what the
Bible says:
"Judge not..."
EfOe
-
You don't think that pronouncing others "obsessive trolls"
constitutes passing judgement on others
No, I'm just making an observation, not a judgement.
Make that sanctimonious hypocrite.
Make that sanctimonious, hypocrite Douchebag.
Make that sanctimonious, nose-picking, hypocrite Douchebag.
Make that sanctimonious, drunken, nose-picking, hypocrite Douchebag.
--
"Post-editing someone's statement before replying to it is a sure sign
that you have already lost the argument." - Little Willie Douchebag gets another asskicking from Pendragon.
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
Cujo DeSockpuppet wrote:
mpsilvertone@yahoo-dot-com.no-spam.invalid (HarryLime) wrote in
news:HrecnQiHe8wdsWz1nZ2dnZfqnPSdnZ2d@giganews.com:
NancyGene wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
Will-Dockery wrote:
HarryLime wrote:
To Edgar A. Poe
What object has the poetrCOs prayer?
(If poets have the grace to pray;)
Petitions he for sumptuous fare,
For gold--for garments rich and rare,
(For which the owners oft forget to pay;)
Asks he for houses or extended lands,
Rich harvests, ripening in the fervid ray
Of August suns;--or credit that commands
AnotherrCOs purse, (if backrCOd by good security
And fair financial prospects in futurity.)
Say do the poetrCOs ardent wishes seize
On objects such as these?
No:--if the genuine spark is there,
A careless mortal you shall see,
UnfetterrCOd by the world and free--
Unlike what C[lark]e and Ws are.
A sordid mind was never blent
With genius;--such accompaniment
Would be like brazen cow-bells rung
While heavenly Caradori sung.
Praise is the subject of the poetrCOs sighs;
Neglect, the atmosphere in which he dies.
And yet, true genius, (like the sun
With bats and owls,) is little noted;
But when his glorious course is run,
His griefs forgot, his labors done,
Then is he praisrCOd, admired, and quoted!
Dull mediocrity, meanwhile
Along his level turnpike speeds,
And fame and fortune are his meeds;
While merit wants one cheering smile,
How blessrCOd stupidity succeeds!
But let the heavenly gifted mind
Not hopeless mourn, if men are blind,
And imbecility prevails;
Time, sternly frowning on the base
Shall sweep the poor ephemeral race
To where oblivion tells no tales.
As autumnrCOs rapid breezes sweep
Ten thousand insects to the deep.
But the same wind whose angry tones
Sends small dull craft to Davy Jones,
Is but an impulse to convey
The nobler vessel orCOer the sea;--
So thou dear friend, shalt haply ride
Triumphant through the swelling tide
With fame thy cynosure and guide.
So may it be.--thorCO fortune now
Averts her face, and heedless crowds
To blocks, like senseless Pagans, bow;--
Yet time shall dissipate the clouds,
Dissolve the mist which merit shrouds,
And fix the laurel on thy brow.
There let it grow; and there rCytwould be
If justice rulrCOd and men could see.
But reptiles are allowrCOd to sport
Their scaly limbs in great ApollorCOs court.
Thou once did whip some rascals from the fane
O let thy vengeful arm be felt again.
-- Lambert A. Wilmer, The Saturday Evening Post, 1838
An example of my poetry that was influenced by the work
of Edgar Allan Poe:
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery/song/24520685-ove
r-you--will-dockery-brian-mallard
HTH and HAND.
No, Donkey.
Again, making unsupported claims is just so much hot air.
I realize that you've no idea how to point out specific
examples of influence, so here's an example:
STYLE:
POE:
At midnight, in the month of June,
I stand beneath the mystic moon.
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
The poems are written in the same meter: Iambic Octameter.
The poems employ similar words: moon/moonrise, mystic.
Both are the opening lines.
CONTENT:
POE:
Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car,
And driven the Hamadryad from the wood
To seek a shelter in some happier star?
MMP:
'Twas moonrise in the mystic wood
That night when time began,
As dryads fled from whence they'd stood
Surrend'ring earth to man.
Both poems lament the loss of the "magickal" elements of
life, due to advancements in science/knowledge.
Both poems banish dryads from the earth.
CONCLUSION:
The above-cited verse of MMP's poem shows the distinct
influence of Poe, in terms of both style and content.
DISCLAIMER:
The poem in question was selected because of its
similarities to the poetry of Poe; however, the comparison
is misleading, as I had not read either of the Poe poems
quoted above at the time of its composition.
The poem in question is my earlier extant poem, written
when I was 16 or so. At that time, I had read only about a
half dozen of Poe's poems: The Raven, The Bells, Eldorado,
To Helen, Annabel Lee, and The Conqueror Worm.
The first Poe example is from The Sleeper, the second from
Sonnet--To Science. I would not become familiar with
either of those poems until two years after mine had been
composed.
I cannot explain the similarities, apart from supposing
that Poe and I share the same Muse.
Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines beside those
of a corresponding work by Poe, and explain in what way/s
they match.
Here's one of my poems (set to music) which shows Edgar
Allan Poe influences,:
https://youtu.be/OnBsZCiy_lI?si=ug9toTCAV2bMFE95
HTH and HAND.
What part of "Now, take one of your poems, past a few lines
beside those of a corresponding work by Poe
I might do that later, when time permits.
HTH and HAND.
LOL. You've got nothing but time
I'll be the judge of that
the rest of us will be making our own assessments as well
Obviously, since you and the others in the monkey team are
obsessive trolls.
Meanwhile, I stick with the poetry and art, and remember what the
Bible says:
"Judge not..."
EfOe
-
You don't think that pronouncing others "obsessive trolls"
constitutes passing judgement on others
No, I'm just making an observation, not a judgement.
Make that sanctimonious hypocrite.
Make that sanctimonious, hypocrite Douchebag.
Make that sanctimonious, nose-picking, hypocrite Douchebag.
Make that sanctimonious, drunken, nose-picking, hypocrite Douchebag.
Make that sanctimonious, Bible-thumping, drunken, nose-picking,
hypocrite Douchebag.