Dead leaves of days gone bynow fly:
White with haste, ghouls fly high; Amongst old aisles, where footsteps once fell
Now tombs and tales and lurking madmen hail: Here is where H.P. Lovecraft once walked,
And talkedand wrote gloomy tales! It is he, who howls now like a ghoul,
In the nightswhite with haste; he Who no longer can see the light!
His wings now are wings of dread,
His breathe is naught, cold with death!...
At twilight in the hoary haunted woods,
You can hear a whisper now and then Some gleaming teeth that could be his:
Piercing eyes, waxed with death!
Dead leaves of days gone bystill fly,
Ruffled with footsteps that once fell, Here is where madness was dispelled
Where Lovecraft walked and talked:
To his second self!...
#969 12/15/05
Commentary: H.P. Lovecraft wrote basically on the old legends of the world, it was his stepping stone I do believe; the world that once was of c ourse, was no more, so he said in his many stories, and somehow this old world was lost into, or putout of the physical realm, punished you could say for violating its laws of nature, using black magic, teaching heavenly things to mortals. And so his luring shadows have lived on up unto today; his Cthulhu Mythology, defined a new creation of horror you could say, one that is/was not as raw as perhaps Steven Kings is today, one much better written I do believe, than any new writes of this genre in our day. Thus, I leave him with this poem in his twilight, and his creepy universe.
See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com
Author:: Dennis Siluk
Keywords:: Poetry
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