Ode to Poe

Oh, to my poet, I hold so dear!
	Your rhythmic rhyme keeps me in tune.
So much as I read it throughout the year
	During the time of the sun or the moon.

Stories of the macabre with ghastly characters all about.
	They walk among us – some living, yet some dead.
Reading each page aloud to keep the words pouring over like a stout.
	Your colorful, detailed language leaves me nothing to dread.

Immersing ourselves in the ratiocination of your detective.
	Sailing through the sky in a balloon of your science fiction.
Descending into the horror of a tell-tale premature burial from a unique perspective.
	Lending our ear to the poetic death of a beautiful woman, reading between lines for encryption.

The life you lived fills me for you with empathy and pain.
	Why did so many keep you from earning the monetary fame for your craft?
For in your forty years, you were not able to earn wages to be stable and to gain.
	They could not have truly, deeply embraced your works – They must be daft!

As each January 19th goes rapping and tapping by,
	We stop to toast the writer who left a legacy we adore.
Ringing in the tintinnabulation of the bells before the midnight cry.
	Oh, my poet, alas! Once again in your grave as the raven quoths, “Nevermore!”