Monday, 9 October 2017


    We all have memories of our childhood and I hope your recollections are of happy times. Unfortunately, life I know isn't kind to us all and many writers of the past and present put their own experiences down onto the page, creating unique work.

    I'm featuring today a classic poem by one of my favourite authors, Edgar Allan Poe. He was a genius at producing, a deep, dark atmosphere with his usage of words. Whether, the poem below reflects his own childhood, I am unable to say. But, as a man known to have had a turbulent, short life, the words do echo someone looking back at a not so perfect time as a child.


From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were, I have not seen
As others saw, I could not bring 
My passions from a common spring

From the same source I have not taken 
My sorrow, I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone
And all I loved, I loved alone

Then in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life, was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still

 From the torrent, or the fountain
From the red cliff of the mountain
From the sun that around me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold

From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by
From the thunder, and the storm
And the cloud that took the form
When the rest of Heaven was blue
Of a demon in my view

  Edgar Allan Poe 1809-1849


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