Poetic Justice

Or riding Poe's coattails and being rewarded for it.

Hello everyone, it's the weekend!

Edgar Allen Poe and I have never really gotten along. His short story "The Tell-Tale Heart," depicts a narrator who murders an old man and hides the body under the floorboards. The narrator, perhaps somewhere deep down feeling guilty of the crime, slips into insanity as he 'hears' the deceased old man's heartbeat. It was the beating heart that always got to me. The story gave me nightmares. It was a case of tomato tastes bad--never partake of tomatoes or their ilk again.

But avoidance doesn't work with Poe.

This dark American literary writer seems to circle back into my life every so many years--a cold, blazing comet in its orbit that lights the heaven's over my head briefly before vanishing as quickly as it came. There are numerous parodies on him from such shows as the Simpsons and Tiny Toons and Rocky Bullwinkle. Yes Rocky Bullwinkle. And they center around one poem in particular.


(Woodpecker, raven. Birds of a feather.)

Now, I've been working on a story about ravens and I've researched all I could to depict them correctly. The half that did not come up as the Baltimore Ravens, spat out Poe's famous piece "The Raven." Poe has chased me these last two years as I labored on this story and the combination of his haunting work and this song by Xandria; "Forevermore":



I got the idea to write an uplifting ballad that would comprise Poe's unusual meter and rhyme scheme but be light and cheery--a sharp contrast to his Raven work.

It wasn't.

I spent a good three hours penning a poem I started as "The Dove," which became "Forevermore" and Poe's ubiquitous character seeped in even there. Here is the first stanza of my poem:

Once upon a sunlit clearing, as I wandered light and cheery,

Through the grasses tall and golden waving by the glassy shore,

As I skipped, neatly hopping, o’er the meadow without stopping,

Came a twitter softly calling, calling from the verdant boughs fore,

“It is some songbird,” I murmured, “trilling from the trees offshore –

 A sooty or common moor.”

So yes very similar to Poe's particular style. The call was from my title character, the dove. I started off so happy and gentle. This would be an inspiring piece about human values and timeless love--things that last forevermore!

It wasn't.

I burrowed dark and deep quickly and managed to complete my poem on the ticking deadline of our local library's creative writing contest, naturally, two days before it was due. Two weeks passed and I forgot about it until yesterday when I was expecting to hear a call for the contest winners. No call came.

It was too close to Poe, that had to be it. I pulled an Icarus and dared to fly too close to genius that I had no business paying homage to. I made a few references to Poe in the piece itself in as clever and subtle a means as I could. But it clearly was not enough. 'The judges hated it! I'm a terrible writer! A loser!' You know, the usual beat down. But Saturday came and I decided, what the hell, let's just attend the contest award ceremony and see. If nothing else there would be refreshments and I'm not one to turn down free food.

Already bracing for defeat, I pawed through the library's old archives of annual contests looking for a previous year where I had taken both adult categories in poetry and short story. 

"The Last Tree" took first place for short story in 2010.

A childish reassurance, I'll admit, but there it is. Then I overheard my mother speaking with the librarian, outright asking if I had won. I froze, listening. "Oh Rochelle! I remember Rochelle! Yes, I think she did win something this year."

I shelved the binder in my hands and went to say hello. We took our seats in the crowd and I sweated as the librarian awarded honorable mention for all ages in poetry and short story, third place, second--my name still had not been called. I was tense as she paused to read the name for the "First place prize for Adult Poetry is..." You're set on scarring me, aren't you Poe? --and the librarian read off my name.

This year's prizes for first place!

I went up to claim my prize, a $20 gift card for the Air Force exchange and certificate, and was eager to sit back down again, but the librarian who really did remember me announced to the audience that I've been a long-time participant and winner of this particular contest. And me, being super sensitive to the feelings of others, felt so embarrassed! Sure, I'm proud of my work, but not at the expense of others feeling bad about themselves for it. I was happy to quietly claim my prize and sit right back down again.

I wish I'd had the time to put together the short story idea I had, but it's so big. I find that happening a lot these days; one scene blows up into this huge, all-encompassing story. I just didn't have time for this contest. In any case, I'm very glad I shook off the dregs I was feeling yesterday and showed up. It made for a lovely Saturday afternoon.

Happy Saturday, all!