The Slug, a parody of The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe (A perfect opposite poem)
The Slug, a parody of The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe (A perfect opposite poem) comedy stories

honoj11 i love funny poetry
Autoplay OFF   •   2 years ago
This poem reflects The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe in the most opposite reverse way possible, I wrote the first half about a year ago and just recently decided to finish it. This is a funny, lighthearted poem, unlike its deep, dark tragic origin (don't get me wrong, I love The Raven). Anyway, enjoy!

The Slug, a parody of The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe (A perfect opposite poem)

The slug

Once upon a noontime fest, while I thought, with plenty rest,

Over many an ugly, boring tome of modern day BS—

While I strided, nearly jogging, suddenly there came a knocking,

As of axes loudly chopping, filling me with stress.

“’Tis the mailman,” I had muttered, “knocking, giving me false stress—

Yes he’s delivering, oh yes.”

Ah, so vaguely I recall that it was in the early fall;

And each separate falling leaflet seemed unusually small.

Badly I dreaded the weekend: I had a date with my new girlfriend

A blobfish her looks could depress—And her given name was Bess—

What an ugly, gloomy girl to pose in olive colored dress—

Do I regret her? Yes, oh yes!

And the angry, mad, and booming banging, haunting me with dooming

Killed me—filled me with horrific fears: put weights upon my chest;

So I sat, and to calm the bellowing of my heart, I stood there echoing

“Tis the mailman begging entrance so I needn’t have false stress—

Tis just some ambitious mailman begging entrance: Tisn’t Bess!—

This it is, certainly yes.”

Presently my heartbeat softened; for I was no longer cautioned,

“Sir mailman,” said I, “please be hush: the fact is that there is no rush;

And the truth is I was jogging, and so harshly you came knocking,

And so loudly you came chopping, chopping, filling me with stress,

and the whole neighborhood heard you”—I turned the doorknob for the guest;—

But the halls were mailman-less, oh yes.

Striding through those crowded hallways, were many people: just as always,

But not a single mailman in this crowded hallway mess;

But the sussarus was unending, and with all those voices blending,

With a voice so trembling, bending, Yelled I, “Is that you there, Bess?”

This I shouted, and an echo hollered back the words, “Oh, yes!”—

Here I shuttered at this howled “Yes”.

Back into my bedroom dashing, all my guts within me thrashing,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat quieter than before.

“Maybe,” said I, “maybe that is something at my doggy-door;

Let me see, then, what the bump is, bumping at my doggy-door—

Let my courage broaden and this small intruder try to guess;—

If ’tis a stray pup, I shall keep it, yes!”

Crouching here I raised the flap, thus causing surcease of tap

Then in here slid a lowly slug: a scrawny, skinny chap;

Never barked he, squawked or meowed; he just nestled there and bowed;

Much repute he did express, that along with friendliness—

He sat beside a bust of Shennong below the flag of the U.S.—

He just stayed there, and sat oh yes.

Then this scrawny slug was causing me to sit down there in pausing,

For I feared so harshly, largely for this thing so powerless,

“Though thy looks could not be stranger, “thou,” I said, “art sure no danger,

What a curious tiny slug sent from a strange unknown address—

Tell me the only name a thing of your size could possess!”

Quoth the slug “Certainly-yes.”

Though this creature had me snoring, hearing epithet so boring,

Though its comment little context-it was very meaningless;

Not a single living human, even good old Harry Truman

Has seen scrawny little slug below the flag of the U.S.—

Slug or Bug beside old Shennong below the flag of the U.S.

Whom is called “Certainly-yes.”

But this Slug here, sitting nicely by the bust, pronounced precisely

That short phrase, as if that phrase was one of millions of words

That that slug had known to speak—for his words were none but bleak—

Then I spoke from sheer entrancement “You are one of many guests—

Will you stay here in my dwelling and remain my loyal guest?”

Then the slug said “Certainly yes.”

Shocked by glossary so redundant, his jargon seemed so abundant,

“Maybe,” said I, “what I’m asking is too positive: he’s stressed

He was some courageous leader whom in battle brought cheerleaders-

He was happy, happy, happy, till the happy gave him stress—

He kept saying that one phrase because he never got depressed

He says yes; ‘Certainly yes’.”

Here my abhorrence was wilting and my head was forced to tilting,

He pulled up a rocking chair; what he desired I couldn’t guess;

Then, upon the rocker swaying, He began what looked like praying

As if a blessing from his sluggy god he started to request—

“What in the world would this tiny little grateful slug request?”

After repeating “Certainly yes.”

Here I stood swallowed by thinking; my confidence started shrinking

Seeing creepy yellow eyeballs of my wretched girlfriend Bess;

Here I thought about her smile- her teeth had not been brushed in a while

She was a hairy, ghastly woman and for me she did obsess,

She greatly obsessed for me but myself she did depress!

Is this awkward? Certainly yes!

“Golly” said I, “thought so painful—praying still, that slug or angel!

From the Hell that looms below us, lurks a maiden I detest—

Tell my heart with terror burdened, If she skulks within the curtains,

If with my presence she shall try to cure her needless lovesickness—

Demand my presence so intensely as to cure her lovesickness .”

Quoth the slug “Certainly yes.”

“Let that be the start of silence!” Barely mumbled I with shyness—

“Shut thy tiny little mouth please, and my dread no longer press

Leave not a whisper as a notice, so that I may shift my focus!

Let the hush remain unbroken, cease the prayer you progress!

Remove your murmur from this room, and no longer this chant express!”

Quoth the slug “Certainly yes.”

And the Slug, never swaying, still is praying, still is praying

By the placid bust of Shennong below the flag of the U.S.

And his eyes have all the fashion of an angel full of passion,

And the shriveled leaves outside reminded me of horrid Bess;

And the date that lay tomorrow set a burden on my chest

Shall it happen? Certainly yes!

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