One of my favorite Poems by a great author....

The picture above is one of my choosing, I thought it went well with the theme of one of my favorite poems! The picture is by an artist named Stray Child, he has some incredible concept art, most having this kind of dark, creeping feel. https://www.artstation.com/straychild Check him out and give him some love!

Now onto the poetry, I have loved H.P Lovecraft ever since my sister first read me one of his poems when i was around 11 or 12. I had never heard poetry used to illicit feelings of fear or uneasiness before that. What i find most incredible is his ability to use a classic poem style, (1,1,1,2) and still create an incredibly heavy and tense sense of impending dread. I absolutely love his vocabulary too, i have not seen much use of the abhorrent in too much poetry before but i think it fits perfectly haha. If you enjoy it let me know! I want to hear your thoughts on what i consider my favorite style of poetry.

Despair
By: H.P Lovecraft

O'er the midnight moorlands crying,
Thro' the cypress forests sighing,
In the night-wind madly flying,
Hellish forms with streaming hair,
In the barren branches creaking,
By the stagnant swamp-pools speaking,
Past the shore-cliffs ever shrieking,
Damn'd daemons of despair.

Once, i think i half remember,
Ere the grey skies of November,
Quench'd my youth's aspiring ember,
Liv'd there such a thing as bliss,
Skies that now are dark were beaming,
Gold and azure, splendid seeming,
Till i learn'd it all was dreaming
Deadly drowsiness of Dis.

But the stream of Time, swift flowing,
Brings the torment of half-knowing,
Dimly rushing, blindly going
Past the never-trodden lea
And the voyager, repining,
Sees the wicked death-fires shining,
Hears the wicked petrel's whining,
As he helpless drifts to sea.

Evil wings in ether beating,
Vultures at the spirit eating,
Things unseen forever fleeting,
Black against the leering sky,
Ghastly shades of bygone gladness,
Clawing fiends of future sadness,
Mingle in a cloud of madness,
Ever on the soul to lie.

Thus the living, lone and sobbing,
In the throes of anguish throbbing,
with the loathsome Furies robbing,
Night and noon of peace and rest,
But beyond the groans of grating,
Of abhorrent Life, is waiting,
Sweet oblivion, culminating,
All the years of fruitless quest.

I love it, the fourth stanza is my favorite, let me know what you think of (what in my opinion is) one of the greats!