Edgar Allan Poe

(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849 / Boston)

Previous Month June 2014 Next Month
Mo Tu We Th Fr Sa Su
26 27 28 29 30 31 1
2 3 4 5 6 7 8
9 10 11 12 13 14 15
16 17 18 19 20 21 22
23 24 25 26 27 28 29
30 1 2 3 4 5 6
Poem of the Day
Select a day from the calendar.
Would you like to see the poem of the day in your e-mail box every morning?
Your email address:
  Subscribe FREE


From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
read full text »

Do you like this poem?
24 person liked.
3 person did not like.

Comments about this poem (Alone by Edgar Allan Poe )

Enter the verification code :

  • Milica Franchi De Luri (3/9/2010 4:47:00 AM)

    I disagree with Justin and Rob V. This is beautiful poem that clearly explains Edgar's filing of not belonging and loneliness (Report) Reply

  • Rob V (2/21/2010 6:28:00 AM)

    I agree with Justin: this is probably Poe's worst poem, likely why he never published it.

    It was written when he was a teenage orphan, living with a foster-father who didn't care much for him. Everyone in their mid-teens feels this way to the point of being cliche. Does that make them all 'disturbed'? Definitely read 'The Conqueror Worm.' Then read 'Epigram for Wall Street.' Then tell me you know all about Poe's writing. (Report) Reply

  • BreOnna Schneck (2/8/2010 8:56:00 AM)

    The title kind of gives the wrong impression. Though it does fit in some places. Sometimes that's how I feel. 'Even if someone is surrounded by people, they are alone.' is one of my favorite quotes. (Report) Reply

  • Justin Unanue (1/5/2010 8:47:00 PM)

    I love Edgar Allan Poe, but this is one of his worst poems. If you want the Real Edgar Allan Poe, read The Conqueror Worm. (Report) Reply

  • Justin Unanue (1/5/2010 8:47:00 PM)

    I love Edgar Allan Poe, but this is one of his worst poems. If you want the Real Edgar Allan Poe, read The Conqueror Worm. (Report) Reply

  • Andrew Burant (12/6/2009 4:42:00 PM)

    Poe is a bad poet, a poor critic, and a dreadful prose stylist in his celebrated tales. Also he is a self-pitying and metrically maladroit. His litany of 'I's and 'my's is pathetic in the content of torrent and fountain, cliff and mountain, rolling sun and flying lightning, thunder and storm and cloud. By the time Poe sees a demon in the cloud, the reader is wearied. (Report) Reply

  • Holt Louque (11/26/2009 9:45:00 PM)

    Look at all the 'gifted' - Hemingway, London, Joplin, Warhol, etc., etc., etc. Genius, skewed - I suppose! (Report) Reply

  • Almedia Knight-Oliver (9/27/2009 1:02:00 PM)

    Poe's childood seems to be the undercurrent of 'Alone.'l-his mother dying and being abandoned by his father- and raised by others, 'not being as others' his 'passion couldn't come from a common spring' All he love., he loved alone. Poe, in the dawn of a most stormy life was drawn form the depth of his childhood experiences-of good and ill were the mystery which binds him still: the torrent of the fountain; red cliff mountain; (fresh perception) of the sun that round me rolled in its autumn tint of gold-the lightining and thunder passed him by. He couldn't escape his childhood memories even in observing nature for it has its own goods and ills, even the cloud was in the form of a childs mind. Thanks Edgar A, for sharing the light and dark sides of humanity. (Report) Reply

  • Lee Crowell (6/9/2009 2:20:00 PM)

    a very troubled man with the writing talent of a genius
    if there hadn't been such a vast closet of demons in his life his subject matter of course would have been more lighthearted, and possibly a lot less interesting for us
    he is a classic example of everyone else gaining something from his own misery
    wish I could have known him, but then again he might not have been capable of friendship
    thanks Edgar for showing us what the capabilities are (Report) Reply

  • Kevin Straw (6/9/2009 5:45:00 AM)

    The child is father to the man - I quote from Wikipedia:
    'His father abandoned their family in 1810, and his mother died a year later from consumption. Poe was then taken into the home of John Allan, a successful Scottish merchant in Richmond, Virginia. John Allan alternately spoiled and aggressively disciplined his foster son.' (Report) Reply

  • Joseph Poewhit (6/9/2009 2:06:00 AM)

    Poe reaching into the bosom of the soul. Putting forth all the words, like clouds in a storm of life. Then the eye of the storm the demon, that he described as being alone. (Report) Reply

  • S H (5/9/2009 6:28:00 PM)

    What is really interesting is that Edgar wasn't really a drunkard. It was a myth perpetuated by his rival journalists. They tried to discredit him because of their jealousy over his sharp wit, amazing writing ability and quick rise in journalistic importance during his time. Plus he was quite charming with the ladies and some of those ladies happen to be the other writers wives. (Report) Reply

  • Rommel Mark Marchan (5/5/2009 3:32:00 AM)

    poe was a drunkard poet

    i idolized him

    i can write poems so deeply out of liqour influence
    where is the art then by the way
    poe was dead already so stop pleasing him to read your poem
    LOL (Report) Reply

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

New Poems

  1. Eternity Calls..., John Ugolo Umah
  2. To live is to, gajanan mishra
  3. When love fades and tolerance takes over., Lehlogonolo Phora
  4. In The Arms Of!, John Ugolo Umah
  5. A Senior Citizen, Pius Didier
  7. Why I am taken as toy, noctiluca scintillans
  8. Let's smile, Nassy Fesharaki
  9. When I Die A Teacher, Pius Didier
  10. Family, Kolade Seun

Poem of the Day

poet Edmund Spenser

Of this worlds theatre in which we stay,
My love like the spectator ydly sits
Beholding me that all the pageants play,
Disguysing diversly my troubled wits.
...... Read complete »

[Hata Bildir]