Claire

A tribute to The Raven, by Edgar Allan Poe

By James Asselta

In the pit of despair,

There is nothing there but the stare

Of one left no way but painfully aware

Of bottomless emptiness beyond compare.

Without the love of the one so fair,

I would pay the ferryman’s fare

And descend every last infernal stair,

Selling my soul upon a solemn swear.

For the heart of the one I must declare

My everlasting Rose without compare,

I would rip my flesh with a tear

And trade it all for my fairest Claire.

Her heart was mine, but it isn’t fair

How it spurned me, declaring “Au contraire”.

When I had but a dollar left to spare

She left me broken, alone and bare,

Sobbing, unspoken, a token of despair,

Smoking and moping, never hoping to repair

The hole in my chest whose name was Claire.

I swore to myself, right then and there,

That I would never again be in a pair.

Betraying this saying is what I’d never dare,

Sitting and gritting my teeth in my lonely chair.

Vacant and complacent, I blankly stare

Recalling how it got from here to there

And back to here in the labyrinth of nowhere,

Just a shell in Hell, mourning my Claire.

The morning after she left me there,

I awoke with a jolt to the dewy air

And heard more than birds, yet still unaware

Of the curse, so perverse, just beyond my stare.

A well of oil burst, from heaven I could swear,

Black as the hell that haunted my nightmare.

In disbelief I knew fortune doesn’t share,

It just exposes it’s snarling teeth, angrily bare.

This must be a blessing, my thoughts ensnare

Me to believe that I could end the grief I wear

On my sleeve and leave it behind me there.

To feel relief, I believe I couldn’t if I dare.

On autopilot I allow myself to prepare

Successful endeavors that shine and flare,

Illuminating the doom that’s waiting like a bear

Aside the stream of life, currently unfair.

Fairly soon, my lonely room, my pit of despair,

Was golden laced, yet still I sit in my chair

Rich and wealthy, the healthiest I have fared.

Embracing my heart racing, I called my Claire

And too soon the swoon was again, nothing but despair.

Love is valuable, yet priceless, of this I’m aware,

Yet still it stabs me in my heart, as I blankly stare.

My luck is stuck on karmic solitaire,

Alone at home, with possessions that couldn’t share

Emotions, just broken as my thousand-yard stare

And the broken pieces of my love for Claire.

Smashing and trashing my favorite chair,

Gnashing and thrashing, I begin to tear

My surroundings down, drowning in despair.

One word haunts me, her name so rare.

It pains me to recall the one so fair,

Her name forbids itself to declare

From my mouth, dry and horse, gasping air.

My cage, this stage, I leave in disrepair.

Now the pain externalizes everywhere.

The glass is as broken as my soul is bare,

The curtains on fire as I lose all care.

Entombed in the room with my former chair,

I cross over like Washington and the Delaware.

This river Styx, it sticks stagnant in the air.

The ferryman mocks me with his empty stare,

For he has more life within his eyes, there,

Then my soulless orbs could compare.

Surly, I abandon worldly delights and snares,

And offer a toll of all the wealth that I’d prepared,

Yet it falls to the bed of the river, where

I mourn the futility of all I had to share.

Empty riches empty from my pockets as I swear

That I can afford a cent for the fare.

Coldly, he told me there was one single, rare,

Way to pay for the ride to Hell’s despair.

Abandon hope, never mope of the one so fair,

And say goodbye to the lost love of Claire.