The Raving

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The Raving

A moment of madness
Inspired by Poe’s dark and psychotic
rambling Tale of "The Raven"

After sitting late and weary, reading Poe’s grim writings eerie,
Finding they were awfully dreary, not to mention quite a bore,
My mind growing tired of slaving through his paranoid raving,
Suddenly I heard a cackling, like some mindless bird’s refrain,
"Hark!" I murmured, waking swiftly, "There! I hear it yet again -
Just outside my window-pane!"

Ah, yes! That evening far from merry! ‘Twas in early January -
All amidst the Austral monsoon’s thunderously loud downpour,
And I knew alas, with sorrow, ‘twould be raining on the morrow,
That the bird would still be perching soaking wet in driving rain,
And filled with pity, I arose and opened wide my window-pane –
If only I had used my brain!

In fell a sodden parakeet that squawked in words I can’t repeat
His thanks for all the kindness which I’d thoughtfully displayed,
Then he talked about the weather - in his noisy parrot blether -
And squatting on Poe’s bust, (an act that filled me with disdain)
Quoth the garrulous parrot loudly: "Sorry if I brought thee pain,
Or disturbed thy mental train!"

I went downstairs and found a carrot that I handed to the parrot,
Then he thanked me graciously and grasped it tightly in his claw,
The cockatoo then saw the book and upon its open page did look:
"So you’re reading of Poe’s "Raven" with its "Nevermore" refrain
The maddest bird I’ve ever heard!" He cackled loudly like a drain.
"It had poor Poe upon a chain!"

So I strove to read my book while o’er my shoulder he did look,
Babbling comments of contempt and scorn into my fevered ear.
And the more his scorn did flow - so much the more I pitied Poe
Who also was by bird accursed. Yon raving raven was his bane.
But still that parrot criticised Poe’s verse to me without restrain -
And became an awful pain.

"Thou art of Hell!" I shrieked, "O, yellow crested, curvy-beaked!
I never heard of worldly bird which could aspire to read a book!"
Whereat the cunning cockatoo across toward the window flew,
Knowing well that, in my rage, I might do something inhumane.
And clinging to the drapes, in vain the cockatoo strove to explain
How not all birds are inane.

"We are smart as any raven, and upon our minds too, are graven,
All such words as Poe’s bird was so well invested and endowed,
Have you ever paused to ponder on our gift of speech, I wonder?
Mayhap you fear all speaking-birds do fiendish powers contain?"
But the bird’s close reasoned thinking, I just could not entertain –
‘Twas what Satan might ordain!

I perceived I was not dreaming - that the creature was a demon
Dispatched by Hell to devastate my evening’s reading pleasure.
And then, with a furious lurch, I tried to knock him off his perch
With my volume, but it missed, and nearly broke the windowpane.
"Ah, it fears me," said the bird, "Poe has nearly turned thy brain.
Poe is driving thee insane!"

Then I sprang out from my chair - strewing papers everywhere,
And before the bird could act, I had my fingers round his throat,
But before from fright he died, I flung open the casement wide
And cast both the bird and book outside, into the slashing rain!
As I slammed the window-pane, I heard the parrot’s last refrain:
"…Nevermore see me again!"

Gerry Forster

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