I decided, after having run a Call of Cthulhu scenario recently (more on this and the one to be run tomorrow later), to delve once again into the realm of dark poetry. This one took me longer than my previous effort, as it actually has something resembling a structure:

What Walks Under Moonlight

The darkness of hills at the heart of midnight
Illuminated by the fading Elder’s lantern-light
And by the waning glow of the sun’s shaded twin

The Elder in vain sought a safe path to his land
The fading beacon of light held firmly in hand
As the black veil of night wrapped about the barren hills

Sounds filled the darkness of the hills and their kind
Half-formed nightmares filled the Elder’s feeble mind
Stalking him, following his ever-dying light

At the edge of vision and the border of sanity
Under the influence of catalytic moonlight
The monsters of the mind can take shape and form
And rise from the ether realm of ichor and worm

The nightmares of sleep can come out in the night
And when one is alone bring their faces to light
Under the will of the sun’s shaded twin

And under the blighted light of the moon
The wavering dreams often emerge far too soon
Come to take you to the dark realm of the mad

The pebble-strewn path weaves between dark mounds of earth
The moon’s tricks of light giving strange monsters birth
Who walk the path of shadow on the edge of true light

A rustle in the long grass casts shadows on the path
Illuminated merely by lamp and moonlight
And a shadow for a moment crosses his mind
As his eyes seek out an image he is hard-pressed to find

From behind the black wall of the gloomiest hill
A horror comes forth from a degenerate will
And stands in the way of the Elder’s last path

Foul ichor drips from its long silver tongue
As it whispers him promises and beckons him to come
But the Elder kneels down and refuses to go

The primordial ooze that flows onto the ground
From the eyes and the mouth on the head of the hound
Glows under the ethereal light of the moon

Mad eyes glow red on its amphibian face
And twin tails of snakes lash the air in a rage
And the hound’s many legs step forward as one
As foul wriggling things chant that his will be done

The hound speaks then with one final demand
And the Elder shakes his head with a quivering hand
And there comes then a slithering, shuddering sound
And the Elder is nowhere ever after to be found

And under the light of the sun’s shaded twin
The hills at the heart of midnight grow dim
And as the glorious sun rises high in the sky
It finds only a lantern, damp hat and a sigh.

*-*-*

Rhymes are hard to do without making them seem forced. But, there you go; free poetry! What could be better? The imagery for the hound may or may have been inspired by “The Hounds of Tindalos”…

TLOB progress is still slow, but hopefully I’ll have a lot of time this week to get started again!