Sonya Annita Song
Once I was a raven slacking, when I thought that I'd go thwacking,
Beholden to a long-forgotten promise I could not ignore.
Soon I heard a distant mumbling of somebody softly grumbling
That someone outside was tumbling, tumbling on his treacherous door.
I thought it strange the words he spoke, grumbling 'bout his treacherous door -
But still I thought, I would implore.
It was in the dead of winter and I had just got a splinter,
Knocking in the shadow of the dreams that had come once before.
Wistfully, I longed for summer, but instead I played a drummer,
Drumming as the newest comer, comer that sought to implore
For the days of gold and amber that I lost but still adore -
Days I lost but still adore.
How the whistling wind was whipping frozen feathers, boldly nipping,
Chilled me - willed me with an urge so strong it shook me to the core.
Thus insisting, I kept thwacking, manners though seemed to be lacking
As somebody kept on yakking and would not open the door -
A foolish someone kept on yakking and would not open the door -
A window then I would explore.
It opened with a zealous blow; a face from summers long ago
Was staring wildly at me like he'd never seen me once before.
I proudly stepped into the room and found myself inside a tomb;
The living dead here seemed to bloom unhappily above the door.
I sat myself beside a ghost now frozen blind above the door,
And then I quoted, 'Nevermore'.
The only word my lady left me when she faded, weeping gently,
Asking me to send it for her to the one beyond this door;
But madness lurked behind these eyes, accusing me of willful lies,
He filled the room with all his cries of a lady named Lenore;
But this was not her name, my lady, oh how cruel to call Lenore -
My lady waits now nevermore.
Sonya Annita Song's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Nevermore by Sonya Annita Song )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
Mary Elizabeth Frye
(13 November, 1905 - 15 September 2004)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep, Mary Elizabeth Frye
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- A Dream Within A Dream, Edgar Allan Poe
- No Man Is An Island, John Donne
- Sonnet XVII, Pablo Neruda
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
- XVII (I do not love you...), Pablo Neruda
- Alone With Everybody, Charles Bukowski
- What Is A Son?, Robert Edgar Burns
- Wingfoot Lake, Rita Dove
Poem of the Day
- Tocaña, Nassy Fesharaki
- Haze your Dream, Antonio Liao
- With gun yielding, hasmukh amathalal
- Along with many, hasmukh amathalal
- No other culture, hasmukh amathalal
- A Splendor Beauty, Hanh Chau
- With all, hasmukh amathalal
- It isn't to launder my clothes, Mark Heathcote
- Tell Me, Amanda Purczynski
- For My Countrymen, Ibrahim Lawal Soro