Today I bring you a 'book cover' (or should we say poem cover huehuehue) of my favorite poem: Edgar Allen Poe's The Raven. Unfortunately, this happens to be the only thing of Poe's that I've read so far that I actually really like. You see, I used to narrate for story contests in my MMO gaming communities. When our groups got together, everyone usually showed off their vocal talents with singing. Me? I did narration, and I did The Raven, and everyone loved it. People would ask me to do narrations, asked me to narrate their story during these get-togethers. So the poem has always had a little soft spot, because of its pacing and its build up. It's so fun to narrate to an audience!
For this photomanipulation, I used these three stock images from pixabay.com. I arranged them in one picture so as to not take up too much space.
For my first step, I needed to 'cut out' the sky layer of the window so I could add the picture of my moon. So first, I have to add the alpha channel so it has a background, then select by color. For my second step, I then copy-paste the picture of the moon and adjust it.
So now it looks really weird! However, we gotta work on making it seamless. So I add my own fog using the airbrush and smudge tool on a separate layer, then smudge a bit of the window parts so it blends a little better. I erased bits of the 'fog' I added to make it look a little more like condensation and added some dark greys to help the seamlessness along. I also airbrushed the curtains in, so they looked a little less funky.
Next, I add in the raven. Now, this raven is much too big here. I thought about leaving him this large because he -is- stately raven of yore and all. In the next step, though, I make him much smaller. In this picture, I put him behind the window pane, as if he were perched outside, creepily tap-tap-tapping it.
In this picture, I've finished the cover. I got carried away a bit, and forgot to document more steps. What I did with the lettering was added a stony overlay, then smudge the edges to make it look a little like an old 80s Gothic Novel. I also made the raven smaller (so much for being stately, right?). I also fix up some of the streaks, because I didn't like how they looked. Basically, I tweaked it and added text! And because we're doing a poem cover, we might as well read the poem after, right?!
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.
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
"‘Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
This it is and nothing more.”
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir," said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—
Darkness there and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
“Surely," said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
‘Tis the wind and nothing more!”
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door—
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as “Nevermore.”
But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.”
Then the bird said “Nevermore.”
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless," said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of ‘Never—nevermore.'"
But the Raven still beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
“Wretch," I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite—respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—
On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—
Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil—prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted—nevermore!
Lovely, lovely cover! Absolutely stunning!
...Do you take commissions? :)
So sorry, I'm just now seeing this, and I do! You can email me at [email protected] (don't judge, I was in highschool when I made this! LOL) and let me know what you would like to have done, and I can quote you a price! I also do digital art, as well as photomanipulations. :D
Thanks so much! I'll be sure to keep you in mind. :)
(actually, email already sent)
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I love this cover! I hate to mention it, but it's spelled 'Allan' Poe. Super easy mistake and I've done it a thousand times.
Aaaaaaah I even looked up the poem! lol My husband's middle name is 'Allen' so I probably just automatically typed it out that way... Thanks for pointing it out!
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