Ravens Quoth Press

My soul shall be lifted nevermore

AnthologiesEvermorePublications

Evermore 3

Evermore 3


Launch Date
: April 2023

Digital : $3.99 
Paperback : $13.99 USD  
Hardcover : $17.99 USD

Shop

Evermore 3 is a masterfully curated anthology of gothic and macabre poetry inspired by the enduring legacy of Edgar Allan Poe. In this third edition, The Ravens Quoth Press presents an international ensemble of poets who channel the essence of Poe’s shadowy imagination—exploring death, madness, love, grief, and the supernatural.

From eerie laments to psychological torment, each poem pays homage to Poe’s literary spirit while offering fresh, contemporary voices steeped in rich symbolism and lyrical depth. Themes range from the melancholic to the malevolent, making Evermore both a tribute and a transformation of gothic literature into modern verse.

The collection flows with atmospheric intensity, evoking the darkness of candlelit chambers and whispering winds, while also plumbing the complexities of human consciousness. For admirers of the uncanny, the unsettling, and the romanticism of decay, Evermore is an unforgettable literary experience.

This edition belongs on the shelf of every Poe devotee, horror enthusiast, or poetry lover seeking a beautifully dark escape.

Edgar Allan Poe inspired poetry brought to you by:

Aleksandra Vujisić
Arun ‘Harry’ Hariharan
Barbara Smith
Bernardo Villela
Corina Savu
D.C. Houston
Dawn DeBraal
Eric Shelman
Gabriella Balcom
Gladys Marie Cubias
Gregory Patrick
Greta Sharkey
John Kaniecki
Kerri Merriam-Buckton
Laurinda Lind
Lawrence Salani
Linda Sparks
Lori Green
Marc Sorondo
Marie C Lecrivain
Mark Andrew Heathcote
Melisa Quigley
Nerisha Kemraj
Pratibha Savani
Renee Cronley
Rhiannon Owens
Richa Dinesh Sharma
Roxana Negut
S.E. Reichert
Sarfraz Ahmed
Shikhandin

 

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
            Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
            Nameless here for evermore.

The Raven (1845)
Edgar Allan Poe

 

Share this post