Couldn’t resist posting the Goth-O-Matic Poetry Generator as we are reading Gothic fiction in October. I know this is a little in-joke for the black clad creatures of the night of the present day, but as I’m reading The Mysteries of Udolpho, I am seeing the crying, fainting, handwringing, lovelorn, “pleasureable melancholy” literary great-grandmother of it all. In fact, my Goth-O-Matic poem below might be slightly less histrionic than the novel!
Here is my “poem” — I’d love to see yours if you do one! He hee!
It is a night of sorrow, a song of blood,
wolves vent their howls. The dark one
Evil shrouds her gaunt form,
an eternal wanting.
Her inky black hair cascades over
translucent ivory shoulders, and her
full crimson lips part slightly, to taste the
soul streaming from the
pale flesh beneath
Now a night of new awareness,
I remember her.
P.S. I’m totally not making fun of Goths!! I’ve always thought of myself as an olde skool art fag if I had to have a label, but I’ve spent many an overly made-up evening whirling and twirling to Bauhaus and Siouxsie not to mention Rasputina!