Monday, 27 January 2014

Seed of Destruction, a Lovecraft inspired poem by Adam Common, poet

On my laurels in this awful place of death,
Destiny enquires what I intend,
And should hear clearly as I gladly respond
"To hell with all you chose to predestine."
She listens not, directs my attention
To the right, the north, the open, starry skies,
Where the wind smells strong of all the rotting things
That have presided long beneath its open eyes.

Watch my hope erode from that great gaze.
How I raise my fist, my crimson hand,
To unlock them from their vast and creaking chains,
To hone their teeth upon the bones of man.
I must resist the urging of my blood,
Which screams for me to bend beneath its will,
That will of mine to have a weaker heart,
And dedicate myself to powers ill.

But fate is not my master. Never was.
I tear my freedom from her iron curls,
And, blood or not, I do the better thing,
And burn this horrid place right off the world.
The pop of covert tendrils fills my heart,
Beside the screams of dreadful, hidden things.
The fires cleanse, the flame doth purify,
And my salvation rides on blazing wings.

The north still calls, from horrid polar black;
Those deepest seas where evil things reside.
They wait for me to free them from their moors,
My hand will ache until I dare oblige.
But never will I heed their bleating hails,
Those empty hearted goats who wait beyond.
I'd better serve by crafting my own fate,
A poisoned trek to send my spirit on.

Read my other Lovecraft inspired poetry by clicking on THIS LINK 


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13 comments:

  1. nice...you do these lovecraft poems so well...and i love the grit you are able to accomplish in language....well done adam.

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  2. I love the power in this, the violence used to bring peace, the message of hope arrived at by destruction. Well done.

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  3. A wonderful narrative.

    Cheers,

    Mark Butkus

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  4. Lyrical and powerful-- much music in this poem. May I mention that you are looking for the possessive "its" in two places, rather than the contraction "it's." So easily confused, that possessive. Not many people have such a sense of music that they hint at Yeats in their work... this does. xxxj

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    1. See, I make that mistake all the time. Thank you very much for the direction, and also for the compliment.

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  5. smiles..enjoyed your lovecraft as well adam..

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  6. Dark, powerful, intense...just loved this! The last two lines are killer.

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  7. As someone said before me, your poetry sings ... very nice. And I like the oxymoronic notion of a violent peace ... seems as if that's where our bloodied selves have been barrelling all along, yes?

    http://thepoet-tree-house.blogspot.com/2012/03/fog-at-dusk-is-crowded.html

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  8. Something to wonder at, something to savour, something to shrink from... what more could we ask?

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