Fuck Yeah, Edgar Allan Poe

ipoenews: September 1939—World War II began and the image of...

Wed, 22 May 2013 04:00:30 -0500

September 1939—World War II began and the image of Edgar Allan Poe appeared on the cover of Weird Tales magazine. He may have been the only author so honored. The artist was Virgil Finlay.

luce-nella-tenebra: “Edgar Allan Poe” Illustrazione di...

Tue, 21 May 2013 20:00:47 -0500

luce-nella-tenebra:

“Edgar Allan Poe”

Illustrazione di Francesco Francavilla

Photo

Tue, 21 May 2013 16:00:40 -0500

Photo

Tue, 21 May 2013 12:00:33 -0500

Photo

Tue, 21 May 2013 08:00:28 -0500

Photo

Tue, 21 May 2013 04:00:21 -0500

heartbreakarmageddon: #HIM influences: “Gods and Monsters”...

Mon, 20 May 2013 20:00:28 -0500

heartbreakarmageddon:

#HIM influences: “Gods and Monsters” poster featuring tributes to #EdgarAllanPoe #VincentPrice #HPLovecraft

Just omit the word ‘disturbing’ from the opening sentence about Poe and we’re all good!

"I only drink occasionally, to be social” and “If I’d known my work would have such a morbid effect..."

Mon, 20 May 2013 16:00:27 -0500

“I only drink occasionally, to be social” and “If I’d known my work would have such a morbid effect on people, I would’ve devoted more time to eroticism”

- Edgar Allan Poe (John Cusack)

"A poem, in my opinion, is opposed to a work of science by having, for its immediate object,..."

Mon, 20 May 2013 12:00:21 -0500

“A poem, in my opinion, is opposed to a work of science by having, for its immediate object, pleasure, not truth; to romance, by having for its object an indefinite instead of a definite pleasure, being a poem only so far as this object is attained; romance presenting perceptible images with definite, poetry with indefinite sensations, to which end music is an essential, since the comprehension of sweet sound is our most indefinite conception. Music, when combined with a pleasurable idea, is poetry; music without the idea is simply music; the idea without the music is prose from its very definitiveness.”

- Edgar Allan Poe’s Theory of Poetry (Part I of IV, Letter to B———-.)

"Perversity is the human thirst for self-torture."

Mon, 20 May 2013 08:00:42 -0500

“Perversity is the human thirst for self-torture.”

- Edgar Allan Poe (via hellocaptaintightpants)

"Gaily bedight, A gallant knight, In sunshine and in shadow, Had journeyed long, Singing a song, In..."

Mon, 20 May 2013 04:00:29 -0500

“

Gaily bedight,
A gallant knight,
In sunshine and in shadow,
Had journeyed long,
Singing a song,
In search of Eldorado.

But he grew old-
This knight so bold-
And o’er his heart a shadow
Fell as he found
No spot of ground
That looked like Eldorado.

And, as his strength
Failed him at length,
He met a pilgrim shadow-
“Shadow,” said he,
“Where can it be-
This land of Eldorado?”

“Over the Mountains
Of the Moon,
Down the Valley of the Shadow,
Ride, boldly ride,”
The shade replied-
“If you seek for Eldorado!”

”

- Eldorado, Edgar Allan Poe (via notsinglespies)

sic-vita: A Valentine For her this rhyme is penned, whose...

Sun, 19 May 2013 20:00:43 -0500

sic-vita:

A Valentine

For her this rhyme is penned, whose luminous eyes,
Brightly expressive as the twins of Leda,
Shall find her own sweet name, that nestling lies
Upon the page, enwrapped from every reader.
Search narrowly the lines!- they hold a treasure
Divine- a talisman- an amulet
That must be worn at heart. Search well the measure-
The words- the syllables! Do not forget
The trivialest point, or you may lose your labor
And yet there is in this no Gordian knot
Which one might not undo without a sabre,
If one could merely comprehend the plot.
Enwritten upon the leaf where now are peering
Eyes scintillating soul, there lie perdus
Three eloquent words oft uttered in the hearing
Of poets, by poets- as the name is a poet’s, too,
Its letters, although naturally lying
Like the knight Pinto- Mendez Ferdinando-
Still form a synonym for Truth- Cease trying!
You will not read the riddle, though you do the best you can do.

Photo

Sun, 19 May 2013 16:00:42 -0500

artofcuriosity: To Helenby Edgar Allan Poe Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicéan barks of...

Sun, 19 May 2013 12:00:27 -0500

artofcuriosity:

To Helen
by Edgar Allan Poe

Helen, thy beauty is to me
Like those Nicéan barks of yore,
That gently, o’er a perfumed sea,
The weary, way-worn wanderer bore
To his own native shore.

On desperate seas long wont to roam,
Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
Thy Naiad airs have brought me home
To the glory that was Greece,
And the grandeur that was Rome.

Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche
How statue-liek I see thee stand,
The agate lamp within thy hand!
Ah, Psyche, form the regions which
Are Holy-Land!

lazynlazy: Half of my Heart The Pit and the Pendulum, Roger...

Sun, 19 May 2013 08:00:21 -0500

lazynlazy:

Half of my Heart The Pit and the Pendulum, Roger Corman

Photo

Sun, 19 May 2013 04:00:12 -0500

"‘Villains!’ I shrieked. ‘Dissemble no more! I admit the deed! Tear up the planks! Here, here! It is..."

Sat, 18 May 2013 20:00:39 -0500

“‘Villains!’ I shrieked. ‘Dissemble no more! I admit the deed! Tear up the planks! Here, here! It is the beating of his hideous heart!’”

- The Tell Tale Heart, Edgar Allan Poe (via indescribablyaverage)

The Valley of Unrest by Edgar Allan Poe

Sat, 18 May 2013 16:00:34 -0500

runbythemedia:

Once it smiled a silent dell

Where the people did not dwell;

They had gone unto the wars,

Trusting to the mild-eyed stars,

Nightly, from their azure towers,

To keep watch above the flowers,

In the midst of which all day

The red sun-light lazily lay.

Now each visitor shall confess

The sad valley’s restlessness.

Nothing there is motionless—

Nothing save the airs that brood

Over the magic solitude.

Ah, by no wind are stirred those trees

That palpitate like the chill seas

Around the misty Hebrides!

Ah, by no wind those clouds are driven

That rustle through the unquiet Heaven

Uneasily, from morn till even,

Over the violets there that lie

In myriad types of the human eye—

Over the lilies there that wave

And weep above a nameless grave!

They wave:—from out their fragrant tops

External dews come down in drops.

They weep:—from off their delicate stems

Perennial tears descend in gems.

Okay, Poe puns aside, this poem kicks ass

Photo

Sat, 18 May 2013 12:00:30 -0500

Photo

Sat, 18 May 2013 08:00:28 -0500