Poe's Venture Poem by Folayemi Akande

On his brow was an evil sweat
That which his rage did fluidly wet Poor him lies in fear of his lid
Not to folloe the devil's lead.

He buried his face on his knees
In his spell did him evil tease
'Famished' so did the devil say
His sole wish is to make him prey.

Devils' gift are gilded with pain
Poor Poe reaps as his peril gain.
Beneath his smile are mourning veil
Flood of despair, his eyes did sail.
Such venture did not profit Poe
Dine with devil fruits nought but woe.