Best Eldritch Poems
We skate the frozen face of reality
Above the deep dangerous dark
We make our superficial marks
Not too deep
For fear The Dark will mark us
And visit
The things that lurk I dare not lark
For nothing is ever what it seems
In that lonesome and eldritch dark
Sounds of melancholy lark
Harboring thoughts that suddenly gleam
Those eerie sounds I dare not hark
Kids that once laughed through out this park
Now swallowed whole by nightmarish dreams
In the lonesome and eldritch dark
It comes to me, sudden and stark
What was there in the light of moonbeams
But, no, I mustn't stop to hark
Something as rare as Noah's ark;
A shadow a-midst a silent stream
In that lonesome and eldritch dark
The devil himself won't embark
I solemnly swear I've heard his screams
And lord have mercy, I stopped to hark,
In that unforgiving eldritch dark!
Heartbeat ringing in my ears
Wondering why I am here
Eldritch quest of many years
Farewell, love to you always, my dear
To the alabaster summit I longingly stare
Somehow certain I will find the answer there
Fervent question that drives my every care
New ridges on my neck and wide eyes that stare
The expedition is going slowly awry
Silently, yet reflected in their eyes
Though I would not drive them to die
Not whether or not, but I must know the why
A little of me drains into each dark crevasse
Air grows ever thinner as the miles pass
Further up, I find they’ve left me en masse
Black mouth I find at the trail’s impasse.
Down a tunnel I find the answers I have wished
City filled with my cousins, the man-fish!
An ancient design, my transmuting flesh
It is the home for which I have always wished!
Ia! Ia! Chtulhu Fhthagn!
5/20/16
© by the Author
For contest: At the Mountains of Madness
Sponsor: Timothy Hicks
In the depths of the forest
I feel its eldritch heart,
Deep down in the forest
I feels its harm,
Yet in the depths of the forest
You can still feel its peace,
Still feel the primordial power that sleeps
Deep down within the heart of every tree,
We need to make a stand as a humanity,
To save and protect the eldritch wood
A world without forests is a world no good
For human habitation, so don't let it be misunderstood
Human life depends on leaf, sap and wood.
Peering through a starless veil,
A pallid eye—above the din
Spies furious shapes of tooth and nail,
Neath creaking giants with cracking limbs
A ghastly fiend with nary an eye,
Gaping maw and slithering tongue
Stretches taut a leathery hide,
To beat upon a tethered drum
Motley creatures with vicious bite,
Crooked spine and bony spurs
Caper 'round a flickering light,
In mottled skins and ragged furs
A supine figure amid the row,
Kissed by visage in shrouded garb—
One hand reassures a trembling brow,
The other, holds firm an ornate barb
An incantation from a gnarled crone,
Her fingers outstretched—snatch the moon
Thrusted steel through breast and bone,
Herald forth an inexorable doom
The suffering flesh—a siren song,
To The Horror lurking yon The Pine
Spawned in The Void of the Cosmic Throng,
Of shape and form that breaks the mind
————————
Piercing through the flickering veil,
A carnal gaze that churns within
Eyes curious shapes that bow and wail,
Repays in kind with a charnel wind
An eldritch tongue—like scoured sword,
Smites the menagerie on its knees
Withers the vine and sours the gourd,
Parts bird and bark from the trees
Sinewy beings with leathery wings,
Borne from the flame—flit to-and-fro
Pluck lifeless things like violin strings,
To marionette a puppet show
Neath weeping giants with blackened limb,
Infernal corpses, made to parade
The crone crows a hymn through hideous grin,
Sour on the wind, a sweet serenade
————————
In the cold, cruel dark—an icy refrain,
The soft, pallid glow—now scarlet red
The crone props her bones upon crooked cane,
And ventures forth with her army of the dead
The rotting sills of
Blackwood Manor groaned
under the weight of an
ancient, festering malevolence.
For centuries, the desolate mansion
stood as a monuments to abyssal
dread, its cyclopean architecture
casting a sepulchre shadow over
the twisting, weed- choked grounds.
Inside, a claustrophobic stagnation
hung heavily in the air, thick with the
noxious reek of mildew and putrefaction.
Elena stepped through the
threshold, her breath hitching
as the warped creaky floorboards
emitted a discordant, agonized shriek
beneath her boots.
Phantasmal whispers coalesced
in the stygian darkness of the corridors,
echoing with a harrowing, labyrinthine
malice that clawed at her sanity. The
walls seemed to pulsate rhythmically,
as if some gargantuan, subterranean
entity breathed beneath the decaying
plaster.
Suddenly, a cacophony of
disembodied, guttural shrieks
erupted from the upper balustrade.
Apparitions materialized from the
shadows, their nebulous, tattered
forms twisting into grotesque
countenances of pure, unadulterated
torment.
Eldritch frost erupted across
the windowpanes, freezing her
veins into absolute stasis. Paralyzed
by an overwhelming, primordial terror,
Elena watched in helpless horror as the
macabre architecture of the vestibule
began to contort.
The shadows detached themselves
from the floor, rising like shadowy
tendrils to drag her down into abyssal, eternal dark.