Once upon a moonbeam's hazing, as the light in pale streams glazing, bursting through the window's raising as I Facebooked friends of yore- Covered over, rather weepy- I, myself, had gotten sleepy, and the creepy moment hit me with a knocking at my door. "Just a wanderer," I mumbled, "come late, knocking at my door-

Simply this, and nothing more."

Now, exactly, I remember- there were chills of cold December, and the fireplace shared its members as if ghosts strewn on the floor. Desperately in my madness, ever emptied of my gladness from my phone removing sadness- sadness for my dead Lenore- Oh, the pristine, prudent package that the angels called Lenore-

Unnamed here forevermore.

And the dueling, dangling drapes departed as a flitting cape, and I became entangled with such fancies never felt before; so that I began denying; thought my mind, it must be lying, and replying, "Just some wanderer there knocking at my door- Some wanderer come late and simply knocking at my door;

Only this, and nothing more."

When I placed aside my cellphone, suddenly a spooky ringtone rang and sang a tune as I decided I should go explore ... "Madam? Sir? I have grown sleepy, and the moment, rather creepy, has me waning, almost weepy by your knocking at my door. Did I dream you?" I said softly as I opened up the door;

Emptiness, and nothing more.

Forced into the empty viewing, how I stood and tried renewing, in the brewing of my psyche thinking things none thought before; but the hollow void that chose me, swallowed all in shallow poesy, and the wind made my cheeks rosy as I spoke the word, "Lenore?" This I uttered, and it muttered back upon me in "Lenore!"

Simply this, and nothing more.

Running back into the hallway, I grew faint from such a word play, then I heard the knocking rocking louder than it had before. "I will Google late night sounds upon my phone about these grounds," then turned around deciding once again that I should go explore- "Catch my breath and forfeit death in this enigma to explore;

Could be the wind, and nothing more."

To the window I strode, branded, as I looked beyond, remanded, and in landed such a Raven as those Odin did adore. In the opening I gave him flew the fowl fiend in the moon's dim light and made his way upon the board atop my bedroom door- Stretching neck and feathers rudely there atop my bedroom door-  

Stretched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this dark bird gave me reason to believe it born of treason and no season of the holiday could alter or ignore. "Let me get my phone- I'll rave in how this night I've felt a cave-in as you've come to see me, Raven, from some far off distant shore! Speak into my phone and offer where you hail from- yes, what shore!"

Said the Raven, "Nevermore."

I recorded as he flitted, waxing wings so neatly fitted, I acquitted him of any common sense I thought he bore; for with what my eyes were seeing, surely not a human being ever since me, here agreeing this vile thing atop my door- This vile thing, a demon spawning hatred high atop my door

With a name like "Nevermore."

But the Raven sat there only seeming listless, brooding, lonely and again he only spoke one word and mentioned nothing more. I rekindled as time dwindled and my phone, I held and spindled out disgust at what the Raven said to me, and had before. May he leave me at the sunrise as most birds have done before.

And the bird said, "Nevermore."

Not recording, now in hoarding all the dark fiend said while lording, I surmised, "This is the only thing within its spoken store, taught from some dumbfounded owner, sending out this bird, a loner, and the moaner must have gaped and raped the one word that it bore- Nestled deeply in its vocal chord where eerily it bore

Its 'Never- nevermore'."

But the Raven, still in treason, had me frazzled in my reason, so I moved a futon stationed there beyond my bedroom door; then upon my pillow sinking, I then popped a top and drinking beer, resounded that this bird that only Odin did adore- What this mystic, cryptic bird that only Odin did adore

Meant in cawing "Nevermore."

I reclined and went to guessing what the syllables expressing in confessing just one word as beady eyes burned through my core; with my iPhone set for finding information thus reminding that the knowledge sought was binding as I laid back to explore; with that binding, blinding knowledge sought, I laid back to explore- 

Shall she sink, ah, nevermore!

Then the phone fell from my hand, and feeling sick, I tried to stand but thought I saw the Seraphim come trodding o'er my hardwood floor. "Fool," I laughed, "Your God sent you; by this angel, He has lent you, and in my disgust, I meant to take back thoughts of dead Lenore! Caw and caw, but I will take back all these thoughts of dead Lenore!"

Said the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Mystic!" said I, "thing of magic, mystic, or a thing born tragic!- whether teasing me, or teased upon as you have flown ashore- Desolation, as I wanted, all this horror in me haunted, and the isolation daunting as I beg you to implore- is there balm in lavender- oh, tell me, tell me, I implore!"

Said the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Mystic!" said I, "thing of magic, mystic, or a thing born tragic!- by the Universe created by the God that I abhor- Please reveal the hidden measure of the secret, longing treasure, give me pleasure one last time- the maiden angels called Lenore! Will I hold and be held by the maiden angels called Lenore?"

Said the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Say that name as we are finished, and my use for you diminished as I look upon my phone a way to drive you back ashore. Leave no feather to remember that your eyes like blazing embers this December came, now go and leave from off my bedroom door! Get your beak from out my heart and leave from off my bedroom door!"

Said the Raven, "Nevermore."

And the Raven, as I'm grieving, never leaving, never leaving, still is perching on the board atop my lonesome bedroom door; and his eyes have all the scheming of a demon in the beaming light that casts his shadow dreaming all across my wooden floor; and my soul from in his shadow floating off my wooden floor 

Shall find freedom- nevermore! 

Who the hell do you think you are?

You’re nobody, just like me –so stop

You’re not any better than I am

so don’t sing it to the rooftop.

It’s lonely at the top of a pile of nobodies

croaking that you’re somebody unique

beating your own drum, rat-a-tat-tat

for the invisible audience that you seek.

Two coffee shops in my neighbourhood,

And only five dollars, long I stood

And read the menus as fast as I could

To where the cars lined the drive through;

Then took the cheapest, to compare

And hoping it was the better chain,

Because it’s aroma filled the air;

I guessed the flavour would have more flare.

In my mug strong and black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how trends lead the way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a hashtag

Somewhere on Facebook or twitter:

Two coffee shops in my neighbourhood, and I-

I took the one with the shortest line,

And that got me to my work on time.

These buildings stand,

Where once were trees,

The wind is sad,

Yet no one sees:

Bees and sparrows crying shrill

Earth is shaking, won’t be still,

Volcanoes erupt, tsunamis come,

Beautiful houses rubble become.

Drought devours, flashfloods feed,

Trembling children are in need,

Some are roast, while some freeze,

Stakes are high, yet no one sees.

So earth demands a promise steep,

That, woods are lovely, dark and deep,

And miles to go before we sleep,

And miles to go before we sleep!

- nehasri

#classicpoem #ProseChallenge52 #twist #itslit #moderninterpretation #RobertFrostP.S.: This is how I think the classic poem 'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening' by Robert Frost can be re-interpreted to suit the modern times. A grave situation faces us and I believe this challenge is really apt for this interpretation.

Once upon a midnight dreary, 

I find myself engaged with Siri.

On a frosty football Sunday super, 

she stirs me from my evening stupor.

I haven't asked for her advice,

yet now I hear her voice so nice.

All alone there with my Apple honey,

her heartfelt answers are on the money.

Now quite startled, I'm on my feet,

her compu-voice saying "Send a tweet."

A MySpace man in a Facebook world,

my whole existence comes unfurled.

So lonely as it rains outside,

I know that I've no place to hide.

Lacking friends and without a job,

I'm destined now to sit and sob.

But hearing me whimper, sigh, and bleat,

Siri whispers, "Send a tweet."

Now I'm waiting for a Lyft,

Siri's jealous, her voice quite miffed.

But friend that she is,

she'll still repeat,

to my cold, dark soul "Send a tweet."

I jump in my ride,

leaving phone behind.

I'm not the techno-geeky kind.

But I hear her still,

suggestion sweet,

paramour Siri: "Send a tweet."

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Unrequited lust can be the fiercest fire;

Swipe, swipe my profile to the right. 

Surely you understand my raging plight,

What a shame to feed our flames to the pyre;

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Glutting with commonalities: we're both white,

The marble pillar of our intraracial desire.

Swipe, swipe my profile to the right.

My thinly veiled innuendo is too much to fight,

Let us emerge from this lovesick mire;

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Head over and I'll even do some romantic shite

Like recite dead-tongue poetry accompanied by lyre.

Swipe, swipe my profile to the right.

Come on. Nobody wants to pay for a site.

I know of this digital mating dance you tire;

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Swipe, swipe my profile to the right. 

"Let life not divide what death as joined together "

Cherish your simple moments,  don't let time pass you by

What you have been searching for, is not beyond 

It's beside you,  open your mind 

You will find you. 

Immposibility is simply a  myth

Survival turbulence, such you feel 

Don't let go,  a crumb is still a piece 

Let lies not divide what truth as joined together 

True love can deny what hope as put asunder 

Let choice not divide what time as joined together 

Determination can deny what pain is yet plunder 

When you were young and blue and full of sadness,

And nodding by the window you took a look at your phone,

And slowly read the text messages you received last night,

The words ignited an immortal fire in your soul;

How many moments of unforgettable memories you made,

And how you lost your brand new phone one sunny morning,

But one benevolent man returned the lost piece of your soul,

And you loved the gadget even with its broken screen;

The cracked screen reflected the glowing lights of the lounge,

You murmured a sad apology to your furious mother,

She glared at you through her golden rimmed glasses,

And you hid your tear streaked face in your hands.

I’m Anxious and Depressed! What about you?

Are you also – Anxious and Depressed – too?

Then we both are!

Don’t text anyone! They won’t believe us – you know that!

How boring – to actually be – Mentally Healthy!

How out there – like a Rat –

That steals his Pizza – dirty Subway Pizza –

To an admiring New York!

(Modern Interpretation of Emily Dickinson's "I'm Nobody! Who are you?")