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More Strange Illustrations ( via Abecedarian/ Dansk Jävlarna)
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More Strange Illustrations ( via Abecedarian/ Dansk Jävlarna)
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Another Garland of Poe-Illustrations
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Another Garland of Poe-Illustrations
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Another Garland of Poe-Illustrations
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Another Garland of Poe-Illustrations
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Another Garland of Poe-Illustrations
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Another Garland of Poe-Illustrations
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Another Garland of Poe-Illustrations
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Another Garland of Poe-Illustrations (2nd Vs)
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Another Garland of Poe-Illustrations
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Another Garland of Poe-Illustrations (2nd Vs)
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Federico Baronti
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August Derleth: Incubus
She said,
A creeping, crawling thing had lain
Each night upon the counterpane …
They said,
It could not be, it only seemed
To be; she had but dreamed …
She said,
Sometimes at night she felt its breath,
Fetid like the breath of death …
They said,
Hallucination without question;
She must be treated by suggestion …
They wore her nerves down by suggestion,
For hallucination without question,
And were amazed one dawn to find her dead,
With marks upon the pillow and the bed
As if some creeping, crawling thing had lain
All night beside her on the counterpane.
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Chris Hieronimus
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Richard Bernardin
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Minnie Faigre Knox: Clair de lune
O never ye sleep in the moonlight,
My pious old Granny would say,
For sleepers, bewitched by the moonlight,
With madness thereafter are fay.
But why should I sleep when the moon shines,
And waste all her beauty away?
There´s more to be done when the moon shines
Than slumber in houses and pray.
My body I´ll bathe in the moon-rays,
My mantle of dew shall be spun.
Encrowned in a nimbus of moon-rays,
I´ll dance till the night flee the sun.
And if I should yield to the moonbeams,
Laid low by weird malison´s harm,
Let me sleep ´neath the turf in the moonbeams,
Enthralled by the night´s silver charm.
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Mikheila Borgia
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Jeremiah Kipp: Stills from `Berenice´
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Parker White: Sonnet of the Unsleeping Dead
That night when all the madness of the sea
met with the pelting clatter of the rain
to guard her fresh-dug tomb, despairingly
I thought I could not know despair again.
The widower of beauty, I resolved
to take bright horror to my lonely bed.
Now sage in arcane learning, I had solved
the puzzle of the living and the dead.
The last strange words were spoken, and the last
unguents bestowed upon her firm cold flesh.
Her chill sojourn beyond the tomb was past;
she moved. And then I saw ( this was the knife
which freed my mind from sanity´s frail mesh)
her eyes too bright with that which was not life.
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