Poe And I

Poe and I

In chambers veiled where shadows play,

I wander through a ghostly fray,

where whispers drift, a somber tune,

beneath the wan and fickle moon.

My soul, akin to Poe’s own plight,

finds solace there within the night…

that strange embrace of darkened sky,

where haunted hearts go swift to die.

Like him, I tread those roads of grief,

each echo steeped in pale belief

that sorrow, like a faithful ghost,

remains the keeper I love most.

In fostered halls, where love was faint,

I learned to weave my heart’s restraint…

to shape, from loss, a tale of lore,

where wounds are ink and bruises soar.

With pen as dagger, dipped in dreams,

I trace those eldritch, silent streams,

for Poe and I… two brains entwined…

find beauty in the fractured mind.

In candle's flicker and shadow's breath,

we dance with darkness, wooing death.

And though we walk through realms unknown,

we leave our grief as ink then stone.

-aubsthepoet

10-18-24

My poem “Poe and I”, is a deeply personal journey through the realms of sorrow and darkness, a place I have long called home. In this piece, I trace a shared path with Poe feeling his familiar anguish echoing within me. Each line reveals a part of my own haunted heart, a mirror of his as we walk together finding both pain and strange comfort in shadows and silence. As I wander through these veiled chambers, I feel the moon’s indifferent glow above casting light on grief as steady as a heartbeat. There’s a strange peace in the dark. . . a kinship with the night's quiet melancholy, where my spirit feels less alone. Like Poe, I’ve learned that grief can be more than just a fleeting feeling… it’s a presence, a companion that I’ve come to rely on. In THAT I find a strange solace.

The poem takes me back to the fostered halls of my youth (foster care, where Poe and I both experienced our own kind of pain), where love was distant, and I learned early on to wrap my heart tightly against further loss. Writing is my way of unleashing what lies beneath, of turning wounds into stories and scars into art. I imagine Poe doing the same, his pen dipped in the same shadowed ink that I draw from. 

I liken my pen to a dagger, sharp with intent, slicing through the silence as I spill my innermost thoughts. 

There's beauty in the brokenness, in finding a voice amidst pain, and I feel an almost spiritual connection to Poe here. We are both explorers of the dark corners of the mind, embracing our fears and flaws, drawing meaning from them.

Basically, “Poe and I” is my tribute to a kindred soul. It’s about more than admiration… it’s about a shared understanding of life's darker hues. Together, we take our grief, carving it into something lasting, knowing that even in sadness, we’ve created something worth remembering.