Thanks to Seven Crows for the gorgeous Poe portrait below!
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Poe was born on January 19, 1809; his last home was Poe Cottage in the Bronx.
Visit my "Morella" page to read Poe's macabre tale of my namesake,
If you'd like to read my poem "Broken Dreams", click on my picture.
Please enjoy the rest of the submissions in the Poe vein
at the "Suffering is Hip" website... their Poefest section
will delight the heart of any true Poe fan!
I kept the link above because it is probably the most devoted and extensive of all Poe webpages;
of course I am referring to the incomparable Qrisse! His pages have spawned
a true community of Poe devotees who are to be found posting regularly in his
Book of Poe.
I count myself fortunate indeed to be numbered among them...
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To all those who are devoted to Poe ...
It is with great pleasure that I present for your entertainment...
Brought to you by The Cabinet of Dr. Casey, the most comprehensive website
devoted to horror in all its artistic manifestations that I have ever seen....
Dr. Casey himself has dramatized selected works of Poe, which you may listen to in real audio
while you read the accompanying text! What better way to savor the rich complexities
of Poe's command of the language, while enjoying the dramatic subtleties brought to life
by a true devotee of Poe's genius... Thank you, my dear doctor..
You are a man after my own dark heart...
Follow the black bird to hear the good doctor's reading of "The Raven"...
Now having said cd in my possession, I must say, Diamanda is quite the dramatic talent!
The background music of the readings evokes the sense of creeping horror for which Poe
is renowned the world over... my thanks to Dominique for the gift...
Where Once Poe Walked
Eternal brood the shadows on this ground,
Dreaming of centuries that have gone before;
Great elms rise solemnly by slab and mound,
Arched high above a hidden world of yore.
Round all the scene a light of memory plays,
And dead leaves whisper of departed days,
Longing for sights and sounds that are no more.
Lonely and sad, a specter glides along
Aisles where of old his living footsteps fell;
No common glance discerns him, though his song
Pearls down through time with a mysterious spell.
Only the few who sorcery's secret know,
Espy amidst these tombs the shade of Poe.
H. P. Lovecraft
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