Poems‎ > ‎

The Wrong House

As darkness comes upon this land
A mocking bird begins to sing
Eyes dreary from the midnight sand
My ears care not to hear its ring

I lit the wall where shadows crawl
And casting back the film of sleep
I stand, I brace, so not to fall
And that is when I heard its weep

Lenore, Lenore, made from its caw
A sound and name I'd not expect
I stumbled back as if in awe
And felt I'd show it some respect

I know not of this one you speak
And wish you'd leave me well alone
Words, never heard I, from a beak
Especially not in my own home

Again the words came pouring out
Lenore, Lenore and nothing more
And that is when I came to shout
You'd best begin to find the door

It took to flight around my room
And shat upon my wooden floor
Transgression done to spell its doom
Soon one life left and nothing more

I grabbed for guns and blared away
Not caring what I hit in turn
This bird had met its darkest day
And that is when I smelled the burn

When bullets fly the metals hot
And curtain lace a thing so fine
The right spot must have I just hit
To set a spark this home of mine

Lenore, Lenore as it headed out
From whence it came I'll never know
With smoke and fire all about
I knew I had to quickly go

And that is how one fate filled night
A blackened bird came to my door
And how I tried to stop its right
To say lenore and nothing more
        --James