When I’m tired and stressed out and feeling my age, I get a bit ranty.
The fight began when I ordered the first born of my loins to sort his own washing out. I even did the arm movements.
Take that sh1t off there, it’s all yours and put all that sh1t, all yours, up there to dry. He’s so tall that he can do it from the floor whereas I have to stand on the kitchen table!
A t-shirt fell down on the cat’s head as she was sleeping by the Rayburn and I parentally abused said son by telling him to pick it up and take it to his room.
‘S’not mine – says he.
Yes it is.
NO. It’s got a Lovecraft quote on. It’s my brother’s.
So I look and see the words on the t-shirt and go AHA – that’s Poe. Not Lovecraft. So there.
SMH. How stupid can we get? Arguing about nothing.
Anyway. The quote on the t-shirt began with – Once Upon a Midnight Dreary.
There is something about this poem that I adore. I’m thinking it’s the way the words scan. They are not iambic pentameter or stream of consciousness. They don’t follow any proscribed poetical rhythm.
Which is perfect.
Haunting and unexpected
Which is what this poem is about.