Good Day, Friends!
Like I promised, Dragomir is doing another guest post today. I hope you enjoy his thoughts!
Dragomir:
Greetings, Readers. Under other circumstances, the title of this post would be: "On the Subject of the Esteemed Edgar Allan Poe." However, Spruce prohibited this title, stating that it was "too formal." Nevertheless, I will continue with this post with no complaints.
Many of you have, no doubt, heard of the revered Edgar Allan Poe, writer of gothic and mystery stories, as well as poems. "The Raven," "The Masque of the Red Death," "The Murders in Rue Morgue," as well as "Annabel Lee," are some of his works, amongst others. He is considered the father of modern mystery novels.
Edgar Allan Poe was, also, the first to use onomatopoeia, hence the "poe" in onomatopoeia. His prose and poetry is exceedingly marvelous. As an illustration, I have included a passage both from "The Raven" and "The Masque of the Red Death."
"The Raven":
"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend," I shrieked, upstarting-
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"The Masque of the Red Death":
. . . There were much of the beautiful, much of the wanton, much of the
bizarre, something of the terrible, and not a little of that which might
have excited disgust. To and fro in the seven chambers there stalked,
in fact, a multitude of dreams. And these — the dreams — writhed in and
about, taking hue from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the
orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps. And, anon, there strikes
the ebony clock which stands in the hall of the velvet. And then, for a
moment, all is still, and all is silent save the voice of the clock. The
dreams are stiff-frozen as they stand. But the echoes of the chime die
away — they have endured but an instant — and a light, half-subdued
laughter floats after them as they depart. And now again the music
swells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and fro more merrily than
ever, taking hue from the many tinted windows through which stream the
rays from the tripods. But to the chamber which lies most westwardly of
the seven, there are now none of the maskers who venture; for the night
is waning away; and there flows a ruddier light through the
blood-colored panes; and the blackness of the sable drapery appals; and
to him whose foot falls upon the sable carpet, there comes from the near
clock of ebony a muffled peal more solemnly emphatic than any which
reaches their ears who indulge in the more remote gaieties of the other
apartments.
These passages illustrate the magnificence of the esteemed Edgar Allan Poe. Dear Reader, if you do, indeed, find you favor Edgar Allan Poe's technique, I must reveal to you the brilliant website of http://www.poestories.com/
Thank you, Spruce, for deigning to allow me to write another post on your blog.
Farewell, Readers.
Thank you, Dragomir! We all, um, appreciated your post, but it was a little gothic for some of us.
Dragomir: (Sorry, everyone, but blogger is glitching and won't let me put Dragomir's writing in red.) I write only gothic literature, taking no pleasure in literature other than gothic and the associated literature, as well as mystery. You, should have gathered that by now.
Sorry! I know. . . I guess everyone has different preferences. Anyways, thanks, Dragomir!
Dragomir Volkov
Spruce Nogard
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