The Flying Dutchman Redivivus

Come…
Come…
Come…

What whisper summons me?

Is it the wind

in drying leaves?

Come to me…

Whispers of doom,

or hoot of owls

or howls of wolves?

Come...

I am coming, yes…

The whispers grow,

and whirl, and growl…

In their cold embrace,

I glide

on the dark shore,

in noctambulous walk.

The sea - a beast of tar -

sends rumbling surf,

torn veils

of phantom brides,

onto the sand.

Come to me…

From far, from near,

a song of death

and love

entwined.

I am here…

I see the ghostly ship,

its masts, and spars, and sails

bleak statues of decay,

no living soul on it

yet full of empty souls.

My home,

to make of thee?

A stir in me…

Run, I could

still run away!

Too late,

the boat slides

nearer.

My bride… Come…

Ghosts

ply the oars.

And at its bow

I see your eyes of fire

bear down on me

with sweet

infernal

love.

Like in a dream,

I step into the waves.

Come…

I’m coming…

My robes are heavy

chains held by Okeanos.

Unearthly arms of fog

extend to help me.

How proud you are,

tall at the prow,

your gaze of embers

lights your

handsome face -

a beacon

in my night.

Come quicker… Hurry…

But what is this?

I falter,

my eyes still

in your hypnotic grasp.

Shouts, vile barks,

thunder of guns

awaken me, while

torches light the sand.

The sea’s aflame.

The spectral boat

is fading,

multitudes close in.

A step

and then another,

The sea embraces me.

Come…

I almost touch your hand.

Strong voices call my name,

voices alive,

not... dead…

My struggle’s vain

I’m dragged away

pulled from your ghostly grip

by warm, live arms of men.

I know, my darling,

all is lost,

until next time…

And, as I close my eyes

against the burning night,

carried afar,

your waning whisper echoes

on my face,

Next time…

This is my entry for Haunting October Blogfest. This poem has appeared on this blog exactly six years ago, as part of my first Halloween in the blogosphere... The painting of the ship belongs to Marco Hassman at Last Travel Art. Comments are, as always, most welcome. Happy Scares!

Treat Yourself for Halloween – Step into Charles Gramlich’s Harmland

... that is, if you dare...

"Harmland" by Charles Allen Gramlich

From the menacing title, through the eerie cover, into the eclectic world of nine tales that take you from a grave in the swamplands to the undergrounds of the Miskatonic University, this is a truly scary trip that stayed with me long after I finished it.

After all, I had the finest guide... through and through, he kept me on the edge of my seat, with his mix of unrelenting action, dark humor, and very creepy hauntings, while still allowing a few moments when I could simply admire his beautiful writing.

As always, “About the Stories” gives fascinating insight into the creation of the stories, just as interesting to read as the stories themselves.

And, Charles, really? Are almost all the details except the “toad” itself and what it turns out to be absolutely true? :-) Then, yes, we should be very afraid...

I Wish

I wish they were true

these things

I’ve been telling you

to soften your worries

that there are only the trees

whipping the roof

with their fleshless arms

only the wind’s fingers

strumming old shutters

to forlorn melodies

only aged floorboards

-nothing else, what else-

moaning slowly

under the bitter

October air

(not the house

not this house

coming to life)

(you are such a nice boy

-a luminous soul-

so trusting)

I wish you hadn’t lost

your way

in these woods

I wish you hadn’t seen

in my eyes

the shelter you were seeking

instead of

the nightmares

(and the wine

the sweet wine of abandon-

I wish you hadn’t been that thirsty)

if only I could tell you

to run away

as I am going out

-I left the door unlocked this time-

and you’re falling asleep

and the house gets ready

to feast

http://abstract.desktopnexus.com/wallpaper/840136/

Lucifer’s Orphan by Roland Yeomans

Ah… October… Finally, the month to indulge in all things creepy. Deliciously creepy… The dark arrives early and seems more reluctant to depart, dead leaves rustle… or is it more than leaves? And what is the white vapour floating above the grass, at the edge of the woods? Morning fog or a breath of something from beyond?...

Yes! I love it!!! Can you tell? :-)

Well, this is a good time to head over to Writing in the Crosshairs, Roland Yeomans’s blog, who is holding his first blog fest this month, in celebration of Halloween and of his serial novel “Lucifer’s Orphan.”

I don’t even remember what I was searching for on the web when I discovered Roland’s blog. Once there, I saw the cover of “The Legend of Victor Standish” and I fell in love with the amazing art of Leonora Roy. The cover alone tells a fantastic story. As do the covers of all of Roland’s novels. (I really wish they were available in paperback too…) Then, I read the outrageous blurb of the book, read the first few pages of it, and was totally hooked… But, Victor Standish is for another post…

 

Now, I have just finished reading “Lucifer’s Orphan.” Let me tell you a little about it…

This is the story of an orphan who has known no solace in his short, sad life except for the Book that has once belonged to the mother he has never known and the hope in The Father watching over him. When he is adopted by a rich stranger and shipped to New Zealand, it appears that things get a turn for the worse, if that’s even possible, or are they?...

The narrator is Blake himself, the 13 year-old orphan. He is an old young soul with a distinct voice, a mixture of perpetual self-irony, compassion, and the encyclopaedic erudition of someone who’s had mostly books as friends (although his adverbs are mysteriously absent…) I found him instantly likable, felt for him for his tragic past, and rooted for him as he gradually discovered friendship, meaning, truth, and more challenges than one could imagine…

In a way, the monsters in the story are too farfetched to be truly scary on the immediate level, but they are indeed very frightening on a deeper level, the one we glimpse when we are forced to search inside our souls. For this is, I find, much more than a simple adventure/fantasy.

The prose is effervescent and with a care for detail that brings surprises literally on every page. The author’s choice of names, for instance, is particularly intriguing, from Assyrian to Lovecraftian references and beyond. In short, a delight to read. Also, and very importantly, not just once I found myself laughing aloud while reading. But perhaps humour is one of the best ways to diffuse darkness. And there is a lot of darkness in Blake’s life…

I highly recommend this volume and I’m very much looking forward to reading the next one.

Yes, so why not visit Writing in the Crosshairs and have a look for yourselves? Be a part of the Halloween blog fest…