James Earl Jones's version is haunting and resonant, Vincent Price's adds a certain cackle, a hint of the demented to Edgar Allan Poe's narrative of lost love, obsession, delusion, coincidence and regret, first...
Entombed within a church of flesh,
My shadow seeks the night.
A ghost among the living dead,
An angel seeking light.
For where is thine heaven now?
Burned to ash, and dust?
Fallen to the s...
Poetry is all around us. It is in the music we love, the rhymes we remember from childhood, in the theatre that moves us and makes us laugh, in the quotes we quote and the jingles we hate, (but nevertheless hum...