The Messenger - H.P. Lovecraft

 

The Messenger

The thing, he said, would come that night at three

From the old churchyard on the hill below;

But crouching by an oak fire's wholesome glow,

I tried to tell myself it could not be.

Surely, I mused, it was a pleasantry

Devised by one who did not truly know

The Elder Sign, bequeathed from long ago,

That sets the fumbling forms of darkness free.

He had not meant it -- no -- but still I lit

Another lamp as starry Leo climbed

Out of the Seekonk, and a steeple chimed

Three -- and the firelight faded, bit by bit.

Then at the door that cautious rattling came --

And the mad truth devoured me like a flame!

~H.P. Lovecraft ~

The Horror of Lovecraft is a low-budget horror comedy film from 2006 that was originally titled LovecraCked! The Movie. It can be rented on Amazon Prime as of this writing.

Story: Per IMDb, "a bumbling investigative journalist . . . struggles to discover the truth behind enigmatic horror author H.P. Lovecraft and his mysterious past."

Tagline: "The truth is out there . . .we're just not entirely sure where."

LOL! 4.5 stars out of 10 on IMDb.

Biography: H.P Lovecraft (1890 - 1937) wrote horror, fantasy, and science fiction. He is best known for crafting "weird fiction" or "cosmic horror." He believed that life cannot be understood by the human mind and that the universe is largely unfriendly to human beings. He has had a profound influence on modern horror authors, including Stephen King. His Cthulhu Mythos and fictional grimoire, the Necronomicon, have endured to become classics of American horror.  

Best H.P. Lovecraft Movie: The Dunwich Horror (1970), starring Sandra Dee and Dean Stockwell. All the rest suck!

The Haunted Palace

 

In the greenest of our valleys

     By good angels tenanted,

Once a fair and stately palace --

     Radiant palace -- reared its head.

In the monarch Thought's dominion --

     It stood there!

Never seraph spread a pinion

     Over fabric half so fair!

Banners yellow, glorious, golden,

     On its roof did float and flow,

(This -- all this -- was in the olden

     Time long ago,)

And every gentle air that dallied,

     In that sweeet day,

Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,

     A winged odor went away.

Wanderers in that happy valley,

     Through two luminous windows, saw

Spirits moving musically,

     To a lute's well-tuned law,

Round about a throne where, sitting

     (Porphyrogene!)

In state his glory well befitting,

     The ruler of the realm was seen.

And all with pearl and ruby glowing

     Was the fair palace-door,

Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing,

     And sparkling evermore,

A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty

     Was but to sing,

In voices of surpassing beauty,

     The wit and wisdom of their king.

But evil things, in robes of sorrow,

     Assailed the monarch's high estate.

(Ah, let us mourn! -- for never morrow

     Shall dawn upon him desolate!)

And round about his home, the glory

     That blushed and bloomed

Is but a dim-remembered story

     Of the old time entombed.

And travelers now, within that valley,

     Through the red-litten windows see

Vast forms, that move fantastically

     To a discordant melody,

While, like a ghastly rapid river,

     Through the pale door

A hideous throng rush out forever

     And laugh -- but smile no more.

~ Edgar Allan Poe ~~

BIOGRAPHY: (1809-1849) A member of the Romantic Movement, Edgar Allan Poe was an American author, poet, editor, and literary critic whose writings laid the ground work for future horror, mystery, detective, and science fiction writers. In 1835, he married his thirteen-year-old cousin, Virginia Clemm, who died a few years later from tuberculosis. Poe died mysteriously in Baltimore, Maryland in 1849. He is best known for his works of the macabre.

Belief

 

I'm stumbling down a trail of broken hearts

Where shadows haunt and taunt my sordid soul;

A grimaced tale of woe each face imparts.

Clouds overhead, I hear the thunder roll.

I turn my collar up to choke the wind

As rain now mixes with my tear-stained eyes.

Each lovely lie I told, I do rescind,

Although this does not soften love's demise.

But if your heart should have a change of mind

To suffer forgiveness for my own sake,

And if the Creator has thus designed,

Then from this hellish nightmare I shall wake.

To leave at last this shadowland of grief

And die with you in bliss beyond belief.

~ Candice James, 2011 ~

Candice James, born in 1948, is a Canadian poet.

websites:

http://www.candicejames.com

http://www.urantiaartisans.com/urantia-artisans/visual-arts/candice-james/