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S'està carregant… Winds from Sheol (edició 2017)de Fred Phillips (Autor), Ann K. Schwader (Introducció)
Informació de l'obraWinds from Sheol de Fred Phillips Cap S'està carregant…
Apunta't a LibraryThing per saber si aquest llibre et pot agradar. No hi ha cap discussió a Converses sobre aquesta obra. Fred Philips is a veteran sf/fantasy/horror fan based in NYC, who was an early member of the East Kingdom of the Society for Creative Anachronism. Since I was also an early member of the EK, I am most interested in the poems he wrote about other early EK members (including me). However, most other readers would probably be more interested in the verses he wrote on fantasy/horror themes, including references to Lovecraft's Cthulu Mythos. The poetry is generally written in traditional rhymed forms such as sonnets. ( ) Sense ressenyes | afegeix-hi una ressenya
In this impressive follow-up to his previous poetry collection, From the Cauldron (2010), veteran poet Fred Phillips provides a generous smorgasbord of poems of fantasy, horror, and the macabre. Phillips's verse is marked by metrical precision, imaginative range, and a distinctive melding of brooding horror and emotional poignancy. Phillips draws upon the rich heritage of weird fiction with poems that reference the work of H. P. Lovecraft ("The Voyage of Randolph Carter"), William Hope Hodgson ("The Launching of the Glen Carrig"), J. R. R. Tolkien ("Master and Pupil"), and other pioneering writers. Elsewhere Phillips skillfully evokes the ancient gods of Egypt, India, Greece, Persia, and the Norsemen in poems that fling the imagination back to eras far distant from the mundane present. We are in the midst of a spectacular renaissance of weird poetry, and Fred Phillips is a leading voice in this movement--a voice who can summon up dread in a couplet, but who can do far more than merely coin a shudder. When days feel leaden you must bear alone, And save your conscience, none to whom to turn, And in your breast your heart has turned to stone, Nor is there aught left that you still can learn, Just when you feel that all you've known must end, There comes at last the handclasp of a friend.--from "Solitude" No s'han trobat descripcions de biblioteca. |
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