Edgar Allan Poe Club
rejoindre
Fanpop
New Post
Explore Fanpop
*To me the poem represents the transitory, ephemeral nature of time and our existence. When we meet a lover it's is like we pick up a handful of sand and as the years go par the sand slowly creeps through our fingers. No matter how hard ou how desperately toi try, toi cannot stop the cascading sand, until toi and your lover divisé, split and the last grain of sand has fallen. Then all toi have left is a memory. And when toi and your ex-lover pass on that memory is Lost in time: like a dream within a dream. The seconde half seems to be about our own mortality and the nature of our existence. Once the last grain of sand has fallen into the pitiless wave, you're gone forever.200 years into the future no one will remember you. Your life, your hopes and dreams, your accomplishments and triumphs, will be Lost in time like a dream within a dream.


*Life is vague, like a mist..our existence is fleeting. Whether brief ou longlived, nevertheless, it remains to be just a few grains of the golden sand, everyday slipping through our grasp..before we know it..it is almost/ ou is over..and all our pertinent and pressing important achivements, hopes and dreams and aspirations (whether toi are a great person, politician, a movie étoile, star ou a nobody) during our lifetime is now nothing plus than a memory, a myth ou legend, like a dream with a dream, soon it is pffft finito, gone done, forgotten.
added by rainbow532
added by Milah
video
edgar allan poe
the pit and the pendulum
short movie
added by Milah
added by Milah
Source: deviantART
added by Milah
added by rainbow532
added by xSHOCKYx
added by xSHOCKYx
added by xSHOCKYx
posted by elizasmomma
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
''Tis some visitor,' I muttered, 'tapping at my chamber door-
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;- vainly I had sought to borrow
From my livres surcease of sorrow- sorrow for the Lost Lenore-
For the rare and radiant maiden...
continue reading...
added by AdairBonesPoe
Source: Picture, Me, Tattoo Cory Shepard, Punkteur Tattoo Joplin, MO
added by Vixie79
Source: Google images
added by Vixie79
Source: Google images
added by gymnastlover
added by gymnastlover
added by C-M-MONKEY
Source: C M PRODUCTIONS
added by Milah
added by Vixie79
Source: Google images
added by Vixie79
Source: Google images