Waiting for Lenore

I have always found Edgar Allan Poe fascinating, and I knew of a fellow waiting for the return of his love, hopelessly.  I wrote this poem for his situation:




                                                                Listening to the wind
                                                                for some sound like Poe"s
                                                                lost Lenore, he heard only
                                                                the intensity of the storm.
                                                                Flickering flames from the
                                                                fireplace produced the
                                                                popping of pine knots.
                                                                Tonight, she'd not be here,
                                                                nor would there be any word
                                                                spoken. The raven of darkness
                                                                caused his eyelids to droop
                                                                as the book fell from his lap.

Who's there?

My walk with spirituality, and old housess  and people have taken me in many directions.  This poem I dedicate to that walk:


                    Someone came knocking
                              at my door last night.
                                 Uncle Karl thought perhaps
                                    it was old Mrs. Ward from              
                     "Down Steamboat Avenue'  way.
                              She used to come for
                                  butter and cottage cheese
                                    when Grandma was still alive.
                       " I thought Mrs. Ward died
                               years ago?"  I said to Uncle
                                  Karl who was smoking his
                                       pipe near the fireplace.
                        That she did."  He said taking
                               another puff.   " But so did
                                  Grandma." was all that he
                                        answered.
                         After staring at the door
                                for another few minutes,
                                   I turned out the kitchen
                                        lights, and went to bed.