If you have been following along with me during this challenge, you may have noticed how I ended the post for Day 6: 

 Ready to return to where I ponder dark and dreary yet?

Well, you just can't ask for a better segue than that.

Today’s prompt comes from Daniel Ari.

Here’s Daniel’s prompt: Talk back to a dead poet. Choose a poem you like by a poet who is no longer living and offer a rebuttal. Dickinson’s line, “I’m Nobody! Who are you?” is just begging for a response. Maybe, unlike Shakespeare,  your lover’s face is EXACTLY like the sun. And don’t we all have something we’d like to say to Sylvia Plath?

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
Edgar Allan Poe - The Raven

 see complete poem HERE.

Don't worry....I won't ponder as long or weary.

The Plea

late at night, while I was pondering, also.. Tweeting,
suddenly there came a tip-tapping,
not unlike the sound of little feet pattering,  upon my kitchen floor
"who's that outta bed?", I muttered, "tip-tapping upon my floor
disturbing me, ever more?"

I do quite distinctly remember -
on this frosty night in November
"Go to sleep now little ones," I said, 
snuggled warmly in your bed
as from their chamber I softly crept
and settled down, pen in hand, for a challenge lately met
in silence, ever more.

yet o'er the crackling sound of heat
was heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet
once more down the darken'd hall
and then faint whispers from voices small
 "what's going on up there?" my voice did soar;
"Out of your beds, once more?"

presently, my resolve grew stronger
I was not having this any longer
Child, said I with sweet implore
what has you pit-pattering around once more?
from the darkness, the silence was broken
a princess cup the offer'd peace token
with whisper'd word faintly spoken:  "Water."
scare believing, I echoed reply:  "Water?!"
and a sleep-eyed nod did implore
merely water, nothing more.

into the bathroom, cup in hand
beside me children now quietly stand
yet o'er the sound of water flowing
came another child easy-going
peering from darkness and with soft intent:  "Hungry."
I threw my hands up in lame lament:  "Hungry?!"
a hopeful glance through me bore
some crackers, nothing more?

thus I stood, engaged in thought
till resolve returned with a firm "you may not."
get thy form back to bed
Cease thy pounding above my head
leave me to my thoughts unbroken
not another word be spoken
and returning to my prose once more -- 
A Poe-Like plea:  No More!

Wow.  That was actually quite difficult.   To be honest, I was kinda hoping one of the kids would actually get out of bed so that I could have an excuse for a break.   

Certain that wish will come back to haunt me --- ever more.