The Lesson

The lone graveyard stood as still as always
While I crossed the stones every night before
With the rising moon fat on sunlight’s rays
Blaring down on my temple weak and sore

Exposed there by bright and threatening light
Four hunched and ragged leathery old men
Grasped at what looked to be ancient blight
Rotted to meager chunks of hard human

Gnawing mad with half filled mouths of jagged teeth
Their twisted beast faces laughing wild
Mocking life as they tossed bones to the heath
Where the fourth thing fed some wonted child.

This poem is based on a fictional painting from the H.P. Lovecraft story Pickman’s Model


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s