PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The seaport lying on the isle of Oriab;

Being a mighty city.

There is a canal which goes under the city

In a tunnel with granite gates;

Leading to the inland lake of Yath.

Parts of the city are built of bricks

Resembling the ancient ruins

On Yath's further shore.

The beacons on either side of the harbor

Are named Thon and Thal.

The lava-gatherers climb Mount Ngranek,

But not too high, might they fall;

To get bits of volcanic stone;

Still not reaching out to the gods.

The city is ruled by a congress

Of retired sea captains and traders;

Determining both laws and punishments.

Tales of the sunken city

Six nights out of Baharna

Are told in the taverns of Lhosk.

In the land of Ooth-Nargai

Is a snow-capped mountain.

Covered in gingko-trees

Not far from Celephais

The beautiful city.

City of marble and beryl

The curving river Nithra,

Where the poet Iranon

Had a father that once ruled as King!

Palaces with golden domes,

Gardens with flowing fountains;

In the midst of reflecting pools.

There stands a citadel,

View of the entire city.

And never so beautiful beholded,

As the view of the serene Sea.

Groves and fertile fields,

A brook called the Kra

Crosses the valley from the hills

In a series of waterfalls.

Forested with yath-trees,

Dreamed by the very poet

And they said it was only a dream...

Constructed of beryl and white,

This city glimmers in the night.

Gold-veined marble, golden-domed;

Famous for the lovely murals.

Hear ye the Voice of the Elder Xastur,

The mournful sigh of the vortex,

The mad rushing of the Ultimate Wind

Whom I call upon Aphoom-Zhah;

Swirling darkly among the silent stars.

Hear ye Him howling serpent-fanged

Amid the bowels of nether earth;

He whose ceaseless roaring

Fills the timeless skies of hidden Leng.

His might teareth the forests

And crushed the cities,

But none shall know the hand

Or the soul that destroys.

Faceless and foul walked

The Elder One,

In likeness of Nyarlathotep;

His form to men unknown.

Hear then His Voice in the dark,

Answer His call with thine own;

Bow ye and pray at His passing,

But speak not His name aloud.

Ugonna Wachuku 

There's grave silence

accross the earth seen. 

Hidden hearts preach in 

cities for growth, for

social justice, for

dying humankind's

well-being globally, 

for fertile farmlands

and humane harvest. 

Inequality blooms!

Silence! You don't 

count! 

Church bells are silently

ringing at the distance.

Temple bells are also 

ringing. And Mosque 

calls mingle with these 

ringing bells alive. 

I can hear the women
and men singing. I hear 

humankind singing: 
I can hear you from
Essertines. I can hear

you from Nigeria!

I can hear you from

Mexico! I can hear

you from these United

States of America!

I am 

human! 

I am

red

b

l

o

o

d

!

I can hear you from
our woods. I can hear 

you from this earth!

I am uncounted

human! 

I can hear your voice
from the other village.
Yet, you are so far
away. But I am still

human unloved! 

But with the clustered
brilliance of your waving
hair, you will come in
silence. 

At the warmth of the
evening sun, you will
smile in silence. I too
will watch in silence.  

Night shall come with
golden lamps to give
you hope and unforgotten
love with cherishment;
to give you the silence
of yearning hearts walking
the lush landscape of my
beckoning soul: 

That loving mutness in
sweet sad silence seen 

across our breathing 

blue earth!

There's grave silence

accross the earth seen. 

Hidden hearts preach in 

cities for growth, for

resilience, for soothing

social justice, for fresh 

farming and harvest, 

for dying humankind's

well-being, globally!

Inequality is King!

Skin colour brightly 

bars in hidden

hearts! 

Silence! 

Silence!  

Silence!

Yet, I can hear your

handsome hate from

enchanting earth's 

w

o

u

n

d

e

d

w

o

o

d

s

!