A/N: Was searching for Poe’s Raven on the net, when I came across this other parody first and really liked it. Straightaway, I could imagine twisting this to fit Vegeta’s POV. I’m sure you can tell who the other person is.

 

~

 

Pride’s Fall, by Kiarene

(28th Mar 2003)

 

 

Trainings so dreary, tired and weary.
   Silently pondering techniques extinguished all by-now obsolete lore.
During my rather long nap – that familiar tap!
   An unsettled vibrating ki stood outside my chamber's antedoor.
      "This", I whispered quietly, "I ignore".

Perfectly, the intellect remembers: the haunting eyes, a glittering ebon.
   Inflamed by my rash outbursts, past ghosts cast penumbras upon this floor.
Sorrowful, as one mistreated, unhappy thoughts I had sowed:
   That contradictory warrior of gentle grace - Onore -
      Is frustrating, arousing... Nevermore!

Unconsciously, dry lips parted (my self-control shredded),
   And fear overcame my being - the fear of "nevermore".
Pride and want warred, fought within, stubborn habits binding,
   As I snarled, "You overstep your boundaries, your presumptions.
      It was just a kiss, a slip… Nothing more!"

 

Wasting no time, briskly broaching his wont: "No!" (defiantly)
   "I cannot; I tried – but one touch; nay I’m entrapped, caught.
Disturbing sleep unkindly, is it you a-tapping, so slyly?
   Why, devil incarnate! Here completely unveiled I stand, yours to take--
      ’Twas something, I ascertained – something more."

Fighting, nay drowning in musk; just hormones, base, instinctual – only lust!
   But I floundered; keen longing ...of everlasting "possibly more"…
Quite, quick, spite; prideful doubts fled - shame! relief! - as my intellect said,
   (Desiring, resisting still) that perchance the other, Last,
      Could be worthy, yea mine... Third-class no more.
   Thus I felled. Forevermore.

 

~

 

Near a Raven, by Mike Keith:

Midnights so dreary, tired and weary.
    Silently pondering volumes extolling all by-now obsolete lore.
During my rather long nap - the weirdest tap!
    An ominous vibrating sound disturbing my chamber's antedoor.
        "This", I whispered quietly, "I ignore".

Perfectly, the intellect remembers: the ghostly fires, a glittering ember.
    Inflamed by lightning's outbursts, windows cast penumbras upon this floor.
Sorrowful, as one mistreated, unhappy thoughts I heeded:
    That inimitable lesson in elegance - Lenore -
        Is delighting, exciting...nevermore.

Ominously, curtains parted (my serenity outsmarted),
    And fear overcame my being - the fear of "forevermore".
Fearful foreboding abided, selfish sentiment confided,
    As I said, "Methinks mysterious traveler knocks afore.
        A man is visiting, of age threescore."

Taking little time, briskly addressing something: "Sir," (robustly)
    "Tell what source originates clamorous noise afore?
Disturbing sleep unkindly, is it you a-tapping, so slyly?
    Why, devil incarnate!--" Here completely unveiled I my antedoor--
        Just darkness, I ascertained - nothing more.

While surrounded by darkness then, I persevered to clearly comprehend.
    I perceived the weirdest dream...of everlasting "nevermores".
Quite, quite, quick nocturnal doubts fled - such relief! - as my intellect said,
    (Desiring, imagining still) that perchance the apparition was uttering a whispered "Lenore".
        This only, as evermore.

Rest of poem

 

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