A/N: K, I'm putting this one up now, since I'm leaving tomorrow for the Adirondacks. Thanks for the review, Alethia; thanks for pointing out the mistakes. Glad you liked "The Mausoleum," Ethereal Kisses; I'm hoping you'll like the rest just as much. I like ICITH a lot, too, RoF. Thanks again for reviewing, Beldavid; I'll keep that in mind. Now, this was what I'd originally written for that English project "The Mausoleum" was written for. I know, I know, the rhyming's a little off in some places, as well as the beat, but I still think it's worthy enough to put up. And apparently...FP isn'tkeeping the indents on the last line of each stanza, so sorry about that.Enjoy!

The Raven – From a Different Point of View

Once upon a night so stark, I was flying through the dark,
When I came upon a tall and strange imposing door.
Curiously, the door attracted my attention, so, I acted,
Gently flying up and tapping on the chamber door.
I expected someone to allow me entry through the door.
The door stayed shut, but what for?

Presently, as I was listening, while the wild wind went on whistling,
There suddenly came the voice of some stranger beyond the door.
I could not understand the words, words from a language I'd never heard,
But I heard footsteps from inside, coming closer to the door.
Then, quite swiftly, the source of the strange voice opened wide the door—
I flew, frightened of what was in store.

For a moment, the man stood there; for man he was, I found as I stared,
Watching him from high atop, above the opened chamber door.
Suddenly, he spoke a sound, a word that seemed so quite profound
As to what it might be meaning; the sound he made that said, "Lenore!"
A strange word, possibly beckoning? this strange word called "Lenore!"
Soon he turned, and closed the door.

Sitting high up on my perch, on the wood roof made of birch,
I berated myself for flying from this man so poor.
He had seemed so very bleak; I should have tried to seek
A way to brighten the mood of this man who looked so sore.
So, I flew back down to where I had approached before.
Once again, I tapped the door.

I could hear the voice again, speaking to himself, and then
I tried to follow voice so I could help the man behind the door.
Flying 'round the sullen house, he opened window as he groused,
Allowing me to fly into and see what lie beyond the door.
I took dwelling on a head of some strange statue that brought bore.
The man, standing there, looked me o'er.

Then the man began to speak; I could not spout reply from beak.
No sound from my beak could ever, ever be taken for
Something from this man's language—except, maybe one sound could assuage
This man's mind, and take him away from thoughts that made him glum, more and more
Maybe one word I could make to push away the feelings poor.
This, the word, was "Nevermore."

Spoke the man once again, still I could not understand,
But perhaps my word had brought him healing, something more.
It seemed to work, for the man smiled, which must mean I'd tapped something filed
Away in his mind that brought him joy, and possibly could bring him more;
Possibly, my word could bring him out of this unhappiness he wore.
I said again, "Nevermore."

The man jumped, he must have started at the sound of my word parted
From my beak again so quickly, like a falcon from old lore.
Smiling, the man grabbed a chair, to sit and watch me as I stood there;
Obviously, my new friend thought this word and speaker little bore,
Word so quaint and speaker small still brought him out of sullen stupor.
So he sat there, watching o'er.

Minutes passed, and he grew sad; had my presence become bad?
I had thought that he had enjoyed the presence of such bird of yore.
He cried out in such despair, and spoke the word he'd said outside lair,
That word that had seemed so strange and yet enticing; the word "Lenore."
What did this man mean in saying this strange noise known as "Lenore"?
I tried to calm him. "Nevermore."

But, instead, the word brought sorrow, sorrow that would last for 'morrow.
Then again, maybe I had just to use the word once more.
What did this man find so sad that he'd implore?
What was it that this man continued, on and on, to implore?
I tried to placate. "Nevermore."

Once again, the word or name; ringing from his mouth, it came,
Oh, that word, it threatened to extinguish all that I had labored for!
So, as the man spoke the word, which so often I had heard,
I retorted back with my word that which made him smile more.
Might it drive away these dark and gloomy thoughts of "lost Lenore"?
I spoke my word, "Nevermore."

Standing up, the man grew furious, making noises I found spurious;
Did he not understand his words brought only din, and nothing more?
Quickly, I became quite frightened; my heart grew sorry, my throat—it tightened,
So, to see if I could calm him, I spoke the word once more—
Spoke it with all my might, to banish thoughts of "dear Lenore"—
Yes, I spoke it—"Nevermore."

Finally—it must have worked! It precluded that which irked
This man in many ways that I could never have fathomed before.
Now I sit here, with my friend, he. He would hide it, but he loves me
Sitting here upon this statue just above his chamber door;
Sitting here always, forever, here above his chamber door.
I shall leave here—nevermore!