In the Mountains of Madness
In the Mountains of Madness
There is one, and only one, large outdoor cafeteria.
It lies between frozen lava lakes and soft sandy peaks.
From the patio
One may glimpse the desert far below,
And the distant sea.
The desert is wrought with black outlines of giant monkeys, runways and cosmonauts.
It never rains there,
So the patterns remain distinct,
As they were for viewing from the aeroplanes of the Second Century.
If one sits at the cafe in the Mountains of Madness,
Sipping espresso after espresso,
The wild fury of H.P. Lovecraft invades the mind,
As it begins to snow.
The snow gathers in the small cups,
Being only the dandruff of the fallen gods.
poem by Stan Petrovich
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Related quotes
Koorime
A woman of the snow.
Yuki, her name, brings snow to the mountain peaks.
She sits in the snow filled glade, her icy colored hair
fell around her in ribbons.
Her eyes as white as clouds,
A navy yukata littered with the fallen flakes.
There she sat frozen, her body preserved for eternity.
The now blank eyes show all an inner peace.
Her statue had stayed there for many years
never disturbed.
'She is the woman we have trusted since the dawn of time
for yule, and for the snow that has fallen.' The woman said
'Why, ' the children asked.
'She is the ice maiden of snow, Yuki the Koorime.'
poem by Regan Meade
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From the biography of an unknown woman: IX
One fine morning
While negotiating
The snow clad peaks
She found herself
Surrounded by a
Thick snow fall from
All directions…
She sits there patiently
At the mercy of the mountains
Struggling for breath
And in imagined warmth…
‘The snow will disappear
The sun will appear
Leave not your faith
Abandon not your prayer…’
So spoke her master’s voice
In dogged perseverance
She still sits there
Waiting for a
Resplendent silence
To dawn on her
27apr2010
09.25hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Makarora
Rocky peaks of Makarora in the summer wear their snow
And down the lush green grassy valley the clear mountain river flow
Songbirds piping in the beechwoods songthrush, bellbird and
redpoll
This a place of peace and beauty Makarora has a soul.
These great mountains look no different than to when the first man came
They have a wild rugged beauty for want of a better name
To the coming generations these high peaks will look the same
Man will not build houses on them man such wildness could not tame.
Summer's come to Makarora and along with her brought her green
Beauty to compare with any with the finest I have seen
This place would inspire an artist peaks in summer white
with snow
Beechwoods and through lush green valley sparkling mountain river flow.
Those high peaks of makarora will not change as years go by
Out there on those rugged mountains bones of Maori hunter lie
Still these mountains keep their secrets monarchs of the higher ground
Overlooking Makarora and the woodlands all around
Snow clad peaks of Makarora reaching upwards towards the sky
I am just a passing stranger and I'll be bidding you goodbye
But I will take with me the memories of beauty I have seen
today
Woodlands in a lush green valley by those mountains far away
poem by Francis Duggan
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January in New York
Black ship of night
sailing through the world
& the moon an orange slice
tangy to the teeth
of lovers who lie
under it,
sucking it.
Somewhere there are palm trees;
somewhere the sea
bluely gathers itself up
& lets itself fall again
into green;
somewhere the spangles
of light on the ocean
dazzle the eyes;
but here in the midnight city,
the black ship of night
has docked
for a long, dark stay,
& even the citrus moon
with its pockets of juice
cannot sweeten the dark.
Then the snow begins,
whirling over the Pole,
gathering force over Canada,
sprinkling the Great Lakes with sugar
which drowns in their deep black cups;
it is drawn to the spires of New York
& the flurries come
scampering at first,
lighthearted, crystalline, white,
but finally
sucked into the city
as into a black hole
in space.
The sky is suddenly pink-
pink as flesh: breasts,
babies' bottoms. Night is
day; day is whiter than the desert;
the city stops like a heart;
pigeons dip & veer
& come to rest
under the snow-hatted
watertanks.
poem by Erica Jong
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Song Of The Evergreens
Listen to the briskly whistling winter evergreen
Whispering through the frozen morning light
And tell me whats to come
Saying my time is near
Never fear
I close each year
Im winter
Reminding me to trade my t-shirts for my woven wools
Trade my sandals for my skis
Whispered warnings in the wind
Saying soon come the dancing snowflakes
Theyre kissing every tree
Theyre kissing you and me
Please hurry
Falling
Dazzling dancing diamonds from the sky
Prisms
Rainbow sparkled flurries in our eyes
Whipping across the frozen crystal meadow
Pond of ice
Race the snow
Well build a warming fire there
And cuddle close and wine and dine
The setting sun
The morning light will find us high
Shooting down the glistening mountain side
Screaming through the whispering pines
The freedom of each day
Will cleanse our minds
I can hardly wait for winter
I can hardly wait for the snow
I can hardly hardly wait for winter
I can hardly wait for the snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Madness Your Name Oblivion Your Fame
You’re the king of the tribes asleep in the tomb
Plethora of darkness and lights of the womb
Your memory will cast but cast to whom
Madness your name oblivion your fame
Until the dawns rise up to the sky
All unheard of nameless painfully cry
In flames of passion that peacefully die
Madness your name oblivion your fame
The mountain peaks into mountains crash
Cracking rocks roll and bottom smash
Black earth devoured black earth ash
Madness your name oblivion your fame
Till you become heart piercing flash
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Black Hooves, White Snow
black hooves, white snow
candlewax dripping,
water from a rusted spicket.
brass doorknobs,
forbidden rooms,
where spider webs cover
forgotten books.
and the chant of the ancients
rolls like thunder!
strike the bell, mountains quiver!
somewhere the gods of old
walk deserted streets,
while the shepherd kings
raise their flutes and play.
and the old mad monk
walks into the hills,
never to be seen,
or heard again.
black hooves, white snow
the taste of blood,
the smell of need.
bows drawn tight,
the archers wait
for the sun to rise
in a blackened sky.
the wheel turns
in the desert sand
(nothing ever stays the same)
water wears down stone
until it finds it's way.
while trees fall in
a desolate forest,
and the hawk flies alone
down through the gorge.
black hooves, white snow
till we find our way!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Imprisoned
Falling:
Imprisoned, while
Hiding-
Eyes, fixed upon
Mountains of madness-
Chained to the sky,
Yellow hued-
Venus, rising:
Looking;
Shadows,
Reflecting pond-
Angry?
Can you
Believe in
Starlight?
Only when I am
Falling from
Mountains of
Madness
Wishing upon a
Star….
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Killer Of Giants
If none of us believe in war
Then can you tell me what the weapons for
Listen to me everyone
If the button is pushed
Therell be nowhere to run
Giants sleeping giants winning wars
Within their dreams
Till they wake when its too late
And in gods name blaspheme
Killer of giants threatens us all
Mountains of madness standing so tall
Marches of protest not stopping the war
Or the killer of giants
The killer of giants
Mother nature people state your case without its worth
Your seas run dry your sleepless eyes are turning red alert
Killer of giants threatens us all
Mountains of madness standing so tall
Rising so proudly it has nowhere to fall
This killer of giants
This killer of giants
Killer of giants threatens us all
Mountains of madness standing so tall
Marches of protest not stopping the war
Oh the killer of giants
Oh the killer of giants
Killer of giants
Killer of giants
song performed by by Ozzy Osbourne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Weather-esque
Wind gusted and
Snow fell.
Flakes blew about this way and that,
Creating a semi-transparent veil of
Frozen precipitation.
Legs trudged through hip-high drifts
While hardened snow crunched underfoot.
Mitten-covered hands clench a hardwood staff
That digs through the layers of snow and
Impales the half-frozen ice underneath.
The wind blows north to south,
Straight into my face.
Two t-shirts, three long sleeves,
A sweater, a jacket, a hooded sweatshirt,
A big puffy coat lined with fur,
A hat and earmuffs,
Two layers of mittens and four layers of socks
With fur-lined, water-proof boots,
Along with two scarves,
And still the wind feels like
Knives are stabbing into my bare skin,
As if my very soul were bared to the tempest.
It howls down from the north into the valley,
Roaring past my ears,
Moving so hard and so fast it’s as if
It’s fleeing from some terrible beast.
The snow flashes brilliantly in the
Dim sunlight,
Blinding me no matter where I look,
Even when my face is down to protect it from the wind.
Layer upon layer gather atop the already
Icy ground—wet snow and fluffy snow,
Icy snow and more wet snow and some more
Fluffy snow again.
Trying to walk through it is like
Trekking through some viscous liquid,
Caramel, perhaps,
Especially going uphill.
Mountains hem in the valley
Like monstrous stone colossi
Gazing over some long-forgotten land.
Their peaks are lost within the white
Storm. What can be seen of the mountains
Are just flinty bases encased in layers of snow.
I finally reach the crest of the hill.
Below me is spread a vast expanse of white.
No details can be made out except for the
Never-ending range of mountains and snow.
Well, here it goes, I think and
Begin to make my descent.
Espresso Logic
If you dont listen what the people say
The people gonna have to take their own way
You got to give the people what they need
And only then will they begin to see
Theres a world that we dont know
Theres a world we never see
Espresso
I dont need this trouble, I dont need the grief
I dont need to feel this pressure down on me
Every day theres something we dont really need
Stop, think, walk away and let it be
Stop, think, walk away and let it be
Espresso
Theres a world that we dont know
Theres a world we never see
Espresso
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song of snow ranges
Song of snow ranges
Far from home, towering peaks and white slopes,
I gaped as sun rays quietly danced on snow;
Folded hands piously as mountains prayed.
Some clouds glowing, in bluest sky did sail.
Sun had traced patterns, myriad shape and size.
Shaded my eyes, with my hand, feeling a bit blind.
The rays diffused as the sun slowly climbed;
A glimpse of folks, perhaps of an ancient tribe…
A raven perched on far off hallowed peak;
It didn't seem to move or open its beak.
Heavens must have opened up while I slept,
In white satin sheets was draped rough terrain.
It was still, till I heard temple bell ring,
Resonate through the contemplating hills.
Despite layers of clothes my skin felt cold,
For what I heard, had never been fore told.
Snow leopard stepped out of a crevice
Eyes on summit, whiskers with thin ice stiff.
Winter shimmered in a mantle pristine
Snow ranges sang of progress of pilgrims.
Snow still soft, rolled it globe like in my hands.
Far from home, I felt at peace with myself.
Went on my knees, softly started to sing
A long cherished family anthem and hymn.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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In Time
Faces of terror, and
Mountains of madness,
Climbing upward towards oblivion,
I could envision
Saturn dancing in a slate gray sky above me-
I was alone within
My own Garden of Eden, running from
A sky that rained tears that had fallen in time-
Days of peace and coherence,
Moments of harmonious thoughts and
Memories of a life replete with bliss never-ending had
Vanished in the wind and had been carried away-
Climbing that phantasmal ladder,
Hoping to touch the sky-
The sky where some believe angels await-
In these primordial beings,
I am not a believer.
Surrounded by mountains of madness-
Stepping over stones while all eyes are upon me-
Drifting away into some other universe
I would awaken in my own Garden of Eden-
Mountains of madness are cloud covered and
Rain has cleansed these faces of terror-
I have in my own way touched the sky and
Can see the miracle of Saturn’s dancing and
Venus rising while the full moon shines light
Brightening my once darkened world-
I had wished upon a star and my dreams have come true-
I am alive and in my solitude, calm and in this moment-
I am a believer…
I am surrounded by trees of oblivion- and we all know
What we do NOT know
Will not harm us and that
Rain has fallen in the stillness of time-
poem by Claudia Krizay
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The Spirit Of Christmas
The star of Bethlehem was shining
Across a Palestinian sky
The Church of the Nativity was crying
And we looked on, who can tell me why?
Where are the wise men when they're wanted?
Nowhere to be seen, like thieves in the night
The desert is drifting every closer
The world won't sleep well tonight
Where did the spirit of Christmas go?
Lost in the desert or covered in snow
Where did the spirit of Christmas go?
If you can find it, please let me know
The shepherds are in the fields sleeping
Waiting for a sign to light up the sky
Heaven is moving ever closer
The promise of a child born on high
Where did the spirit of Christmas go?
Lost in the desert or covered in snow
Where did the spirit of Christmas go?
If you can find it, please let me know
Looking for an answer that escapes me (Love set me free!)
If there is a reason let me know (Whoa!)
Drifting slow through time and space not knowing where we are
How did we ever get this far?
Where did the spirit of Christmas go?
Lost in the desert or covered in snow
Where did the spirit of Christmas go?
If you can find it, please let me know
Where did the spirit of Christmas go?
Lost in the desert or covered in snow
Where did the spirit of Christmas go?
If you can find it, please let me know
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ode On Snow
Snowstorms!
Piles of snow!
Soft, crystalline white snowflakes!
Feathered rain!
Powder snow!
Falling snow!
Up to the kneecaps snow!
Snow stuck on sidewalks and streets!
Snowballs!
Snowmen!
Snowdrift!
Sledding on soft snow!
Crunching snow!
Snow cones!
poem by M.L. Squier
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Gods Coloring Book
Today as I was walking
In the fields just down the way
I sat down on a fallen log
To pass the time away
And as I looked around me
The more that I did look
The more I realize that I am viewing
Gods coloring book
I saw a golden ray of sunlight
A silver drop of dew
A soft, white floating cloud
Sailing cross the sky a blue
A yellow dandelion
Pretty evergreen
And some red and orange flowers
Growing wild along the stream
And the more I look around me
And the more that I do look
The more I realize that I am viewing
Gods coloring book
The greyness in an old mans hair
The pink in babys cheeks
The blackness in a stormy sky
The brown in fallen leaves
And the multicolored rainbow
Stretched out across the sky
And the purple haze at sunset
Just before the night
And the more I look around me
And the more that I do look
The more I realize that I am viewing
Gods coloring book
Then I turn my face toward the sky
And say a silent prayer
Though God doesnt speak to me
I see him everywhere
He is all around me
Hes everywhere I look
And each new day is but a new page
In gods coloring book
Tag:
Each new day is but a new page
In gods coloring book
Hmmmmmm
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Exile
These hills are sandy. Trees are dwarfed here. Crows
Caw dismally in skies of an arid brilliance,
Complain in dusty pine-trees. Yellow daybreak
Lights on the long brown slopes a frost-like dew,
Dew as heavy as rain; the rabbit tracks
Show sharply in it, as they might in snow.
But it’s soon gone in the sun — what good does it do?
The houses, on the slope, or among brown trees,
Are grey and shrivelled. And the men who live here
Are small and withered, spider-like, with large eyes.
Bring water with you if you come to live here —
Cold tinkling cisterns, or else wells so deep
That one looks down to Ganges or Himalayas.
Yes, and bring mountains with you, white, moon-bearing,
Mountains of ice. You will have need of these
Profundities and peaks of wet and cold.
Bring also, in a cage of wire or osier,
Birds of a golden colour, who will sing
Of leaves that do not wither, watery fruits
That heavily hang on long melodious boughs
In the blue-silver forests of deep valleys.
I have now been here — how many years? Years unnumbered.
My hands grow clawlike. My eyes are large and starved.
I brought no bird with me, I have no cistern
Where I might find the moon, or river, or snow.
Some day, for lack of these, I’ll spin a web
Between two dusty pine-tree tops, and hang there
Face downward, like a spider, blown as lightly
As ghost of leaf. Crows will caw about me.
Morning and evening I shall drink the dew.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Madness Is Not My Poem
MADNESS IS NOT MY POEM
Madness is not my poem-
I have lived a life
Striving to remain sane.
Madness is pain and disorder-
Madness is the hurting that does not know its own end-
Madness is screaming and praying for the pain to stop
When the pain does not stop.
Madness is not my poem
I strive against Madness all my life
Sane I am even when sad
Madness is not my poem
Though I will die being afraid
It still might be.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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S-n-o-w
Snow is cold like a frozen ice cube
its crystals like a diamond
Its like fun to make into snowballs and chuck them at poeple
snow is soft like a warm fuzzy blanket
Snow is bad when it turns to ice
But snow means that the angles on heaven are having a great time haveing a pillow fight
Snow is a friend just like you
poem by Ashley Jensen
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Birth
These mountains: blackness, silence, and snow.
The red hunter climbs down from the forest;
Oh the mossy gaze of the wild thing.
The peace of the mother: under black firs
The sleeping hands open by themselves
When the cold moon seems ready to fall.
The birth of man. Each night
Blue water washes over the rockbase of the cliff;
The fallen angel stares at his reflection with sighs,
Something pale wakes up in a suffocating room.
The eyes
Of the stony old woman shine, two moons.
The cry of the woman in labor. The night troubles
The boy’s sleep with black wings,
With snow, which falls with ease out of the purple
clouds
poem by Georg Trakl
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