The Edgar Alan Poker Game

‘Twas past midnight, damp and dreary, I in bed awake but weary Trying vainly to establish with sound slumber a rapport, When I heard a sound so muffled, sounded like cards being shuffled Coming from the other side of my sturdy bedroom door. I tossed and turned and said, “It is the wind and nothing more”. But the sound it was remaining. With bravado in me draining I donned my robe and tiptoed to my sturdy bedroom door. I opened it a crack, peeked out and saw the back Of a man who was just sitting, playing cards upon the floor. “’Tis a nightmare of my mind,” I said, “Just this and nothing more”. ‘Twas a cloak draped ‘cross his back and a Raven, shiny black, Was facing him and pacing in a circle on the floor. My jaw dropped when I heard the soft voice of that huge bird Saying, “Deal me in this card game for a couple hands or more”. And the man tossed four chips to him; four blue chips and nothing more. Then I must have made a sound, for he slowly turned around And his face was pale as misty, eerie fog that hugs the shore. Then he whispered to me low, “I’m the ghost of Allen Poe Who has come here to play poker as I did in days of yore. ’Tis a poker game I’m craving. Only this and nothing more”. “Won’t you sit in for a while?” he asked me with a smile, “It will make a better card game than it was an hour before”. And, not wanting to incite him, I slowly walked beside him Meekly asking what the stakes were as I sat down on the floor. “Penny-ante,” said the stranger. Quoth the Raven, “Nothing more.” From the start I had a streak of luck that reached its peak By my winning all the pennies that the two had owned before. Then the man said, oh so slyly, (as the Raven grinned so wryly), “This low stake game we’re playing I’m beginning to abhor. “Then by all means”, said the Raven, ‘we should surely play for more”. Then the man, with gesture bold, from his cloak withdrew some gold In a bag that was so heavy that to move it was a chore. His sly look I failed to heed for my soul was filled with greed As I saw the golden coins from the sack begin to pour. “Yes,” I whispered weakly, “We should surely play for more”. Then he said in voice so solemn as he stacked coins in a column, “The hour grows late; I’m weary, so we’ll play but one hand more. If you win, my gold you’ll own. If I win then it’s your home That will be mine to have and keep…to keep forevermore”. Quoth the Raven: “Evermore”. I said, “That’s fair, I feel.” Then the man began to deal And the cards I had were aces and the aces numbered four. I said, “My hand is pat and I’m only sorry that The pot has been established and that we can bet no more.” Quoth the Raven: “Bet some more!” “He speaks true,” I then was told, and the man pulled out more gold And tossed it with the other coins that were strewn across the floor. “But I cannot match your bet,” I sadly said, “but, yet, I must have something left; something you two would adore”. Said the Raven, “You in bondage. Only this and nothing more”. “He speaks wisely”, said the man. “If you want to bet, you can. But lose and you’re our slave and servant now and evermore”. I stared at my four aces, smiled and looked at my guest’s faces, Sealed the bet and spread my aces down and out across the floor. Said the Raven in a whisper, “I see aces numb’ring four!” The face of Poe just glowered as his poker hand he lowered ‘Til it covered my four aces that were resting on the floor. Then amid a quiet hush, I saw his small straight flush And knew that I was beaten and was doomed forevermore. Said the Raven, “You in bondage here and now and evermore”. Now on dark nights, cold and dreary, my sore body grows so weary As I dust and wash and clean and sweep the droppings on the floor. While my master and his Raven live in comfort in their haven With their slave who’s held in bondage, held in bondage Evermore. Copyright 2001 - Phil Cerasoli