The Raven (In Answer To Edgar Allan Poe) Poem by Gert Strydom

On a summer December I do remember
the sun like an ember, poetry on the floor
life in pieces, while my troubles increases
nothing eases the sorrow for the girl Lenore
while I read of a farmer who lived long before
while destiny had closed a door.

In that new tomorrow, the book I did borrow
and my own sorrow was replaced by the lore
with pain in my heart, life was falling apart,
my art was shattered as the tale I did explore
out of the blue I saw a raven black as ore
with its feet red with gore.

With a bolt of lightning that was frightening
happened something to the bird I did deplore,
with eyes green, her hair shone a bluish sheen
the loveliest girl I have seen then came to fore;
with her I would do almost anything just to score,
suddenly I did her adore.

Her voice had a melody, life was fair and free,
it just could not be, surf crashed on the shore,
I was not fit I did deem, or it was just a dream;
nothing was as it seem, it was a fable from yore,
I was thinking I am nuts, totally mad therefore,
but nothing I wanted more.

She was human alright, as we kissed in daylight,
loved during the night; to stay I did her implore,
I had just met her, suddenly we loved each other
without a bother, in my back her nails did bore
and what did my life without her have in store?
Our souls had bonded forevermore