A Poem

Down beneath the deepest vaults;

Down beneath forsaken wells;

There are places undiscovered;

Protected by unholy, ancient spells.

In a fever dream one winter night

I made the subterranean climb

To seek the old forgotten relics

Of a dreadful bygone time.

Down into the dark descending,

After hours lost in seas of black

I felt as if some hidden gulf was crossed

From which there was no turning back.

I emerged amidst an endless plain,

Covered with a strange, grey sand

As an evil star hung redly o’er me

And threw its vile tint upon the land.

I headed for the distant city

That on the far horizon loomed,

Whereat I knew the Ancient Things

Lay solemnly and silently entombed.

Once inside that twisted ruin

Through the winding streets I pressed.

Once or twice, a chill shot through me

When I thought I heard wings beating to the West.

At last I came upon a strange machine,

Designed to turn and twist the city’s gears,

All overrun with vines and fungal growths

Of unfathomably many years.

I sought a way beneath the site

To seek what had been built before,

When in my bed I suddenly awoke

And clutched a tome of ancient lore.

The desert

So much Lovecraft, so much Clark Ashton Smith. Consider this yet another of my “homage” poems.


  1. That is incredible. Just love it. I’ve been reading about E. G. Poe, and have been thinking about doing an homage to him.

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