These Dark Acrostic poems are examples of Acrostic poems about Dark. These are the best examples of Dark Acrostic poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
I know you, you're godless like me, and to the natives We Are The Wandering dead. Headless in sunshine, blind in the wilderness. I know you, you're the sister of death that's true. Your red lips caress mine as I choke upon embers. I'm awaiting life to be stripped from these bones. I smoke the feathers from the angels round here, and laugh with the devil. She sleeps at my feet. I found a home down here. She's the one who'll burn down the temple. She's the one who shall coerce the swarms. I know she'll do anything and more.
Could I not see such ugly drawn out choices.
Hollow I feel such nothing for people it is fear that feeds me.
Alone in this forsaken world with nothing to accept.
Order is such pain that it is nothing but chains.
Souls that bare nothing but lost cause to confusion is such utter mistakes.
So much obscurity with no sign of light.
Hope begs the question is there help in sight?
Past, present, and future are mangled in time.
Enters the Captain - buckle-up for flight.
Across the universe, passage bought for a dime.
A countdown begins; it’s the end of the line…
Cashing-in what is left of my mind,
Ready to reschedule this mission of mine.
Envy my trip but heed the sign:
The SPACE around his HEART is dark and sublime.
written:02/26/13 for SPACE Contest
P aranoia permeates, etching itself into your fractured face,
A cacophony of constant pressure; life remains a stressful race,
N othing to hope for, no positives like promotion in the workplace,
I nability to love, relationships lift anchor and set sail without chase,
C hildren crushing dreams under mortgages; age grows with disgrace
Reaching to the sky in terror, another helpless victim of an
Inconceivable crime cries out for mercy. Blood curdles as screams
Pierce the night of London town. Who is the madman on the loose
Preying on the defenseless? The answer comes from hell…
Evil is lurking in every shadow. Do not close your eyes. The nightmare is .
Real, sinister, maniacal…No one is safe from Jack.
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, 10/16/13
For Russell Sivey's Everything Halloween Contest
Quivering on the surface
Underneath is chaos
Inching too close now
Cesspool of disaster
Known to be deadly
Sinking, swim desperately
Activate survivor mode
Never believe you are infallible
Death can be the result
Vision is clouded
Opportunity to save self drifting
Relax don`t panic
Try to tread sand like water
Examine your surroundings
X-treme survival tactics
Sept 15th, 2013
Build Your Own Sand Contest
Woven lines patterned like the black widow's silk.
Resting upon the face and the hands.
Insidious, the crow perches on skin once like milk.
Nestled in laugh lines, the years' stark demands.
Kings and Queens reign, then they, too, grow old.
Looking back at all the scavengers stole.
Each wrinkle a regret, the grave dagger's dole.
Netherworld eclipsing the land of the living,
Invading the space not owned by the dead;
Grim hues take the land with force unforgiving,
Happily forcing the living to bed.
The living sleep 'til the horizon turns red.
On a stormy night I awoke from a dream
to find that I wasn't there ,
was I awake or still in my dream
or should I even care .
My thoughts were all gone for something is wrong\
for my room was upside down ,
patterns of chaos infected my mind
without making a sound .
A hot hellish breeze blew through my house
as devils danced in my head ,
For something wicked came this way
could it be under my bed ?
As sunlight poured into my room
I knew that I was alright ,
or could it be that my mind was gone
taken during the night !
Embracing this low and calm fumes
Adopting these reserved maneuvering skills
Rehearsing my lines daily…hoping to perfection
I wish to be the extra prototype when the curtain rises up
I will majestically bow to the jury…doubting their frown
Here with me…will compose the best speech
With my specs; you will see an intelligent poet
Yet with my hands you will lay an author of the future
Now we are a little far away from the spotlight…
On the road we are pedestrians…of course Christians
Now we weep, now we creep out with terror
Last night I saw the fellow; he was a sad veteran
Weirdly he seemed killed already only that he wasn’t berried
Poor soldier; dead already just a moving corpse waiting for
An open grave…
So much I had wanted to tell him…when I stared at him wobbling
Zonked, I couldn’t help a tear from falling
The war had consumed so much of his good smiles and the blissful memos
When he embraced me…he whispered to my left ear and said;
‘Do you know how to pull a trigger aah!?’
I answered no…you should learn son as he sighed with discomfort
The was ache in his left leg…I loved him much he died the next evening
It’s always like that for me…
I am rehearsing my agony…so hurting