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Dark Narrative Poems | Narrative Poems About Dark

These Dark Narrative poems are examples of Narrative poems about Dark. These are the best examples of Dark Narrative poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Narrative |

The Rose

Once bloomed a rose so young and fair
With dark brown eyes and long black hair

Beside her be a tall dark tree
Whose branches stretch to smother thee

Too close beside the shadowy bark
That soon begins to leave its mark

She cries for help, but none shall hear
Her thorns too sharp, who’d dare go near?

To save this rose, who’d risk their life?
With naught to gain but pain and strife

Alone, afraid, she lays to rest
Her heart beats low inside her chest

And with the hour growing near
She sheds her final grieving tear

And so the rose soon falls asunder
Her final day, eternal slumber

She lies beside the old dark tree
The only one who mourns for thee


Details | Narrative |

Sins and Virtues Chapter Two

Turning her back to the wedding guests Lust throws a bouquet of Poison Ivy and Venus Flytraps 
over 
her head.  Stepping in front of Sloth, Envy snatches the the bouquet out of the air.  "Nice catch Envy" 
said Sloth with slow slurred speech.  "Thank you Sloth and I do believe green is more my color".  
Turning around to see who caught the bouquet Lust wasn't a bit surprise to see Envy holding the 
Poison Ivy and Venus Flytraps.  "Well Envy I guess you're next to be wedded off" stated Lust.  Pride 
motions for Hatred to release the owls.  Unlocking the huge cage Hatred releases the owls.  Slow to 
take flight the great owls flap their wings and ascends into the darkness.  "Let's get this party 
started.  Turn on the music" yelled Greed.  As the sins partied the night away the sun came rising in 
the country Blue Utopia.  "Are you ready to spend all eternity together?"  Loyalty asked Love as they 
stood on their balcony.  "My dear, dear, husband soon to be you already know the answer to the 
question you ask".  As Loyalty and Love stand locked in a warming embrace being kissed by the 
rays of the sun the two share a kiss of their own.  Beep, beep, beep "Well this is a perfect time for my 
communicator to beep" breaking her embrace with Loyalty, Love answers her communicator.  
"Hello Faith how are you?"  "I'm fine Love and how are you?"  "I'm ready to start this new era in my 
life".  "I'm looking over your wedding file.  Are there any last minute changes you want to make?"  
"No Faith everything's perfect".  "I'm outside of your house waiting on you Love.  Let's get going".  
"I'll be right down.  I have to go Loyalty".  Grabbing Love by the waist and pulling her close Loyalty 
whispers in her ear "Are you sure this is what you want?"  "I've wanted you when I first saw you.  
Now if you'll excuse me Faith is waiting for me". 
Written by Keith Edward Baucum aka Red Seven aka The Green Poet aka The Brown Philosopher


Details | Narrative |

Night Angel

They needed help
Walking alone in the dark.
The man.
The child.
A broken down car.
The child frightened,
But not understanding
The terror
That would soon
Come her way.
Her parents petrified
That their baby was gone,
Agonizing
Over forbidden images
That crowded their way
Past ice cream sundays
And birthday parties
And wedding days.
A passer-by.
A doer of good deeds.
He stops.
He sees.
He looks into
the little girl's eyes.
Bravely
The girl speaks,
"This is not my dad"
And the coward
who took her,
He runs.
He hides.
The passer-by,
Believing he saved
A child
From a long, cold walk,
In reality
Saved a child
From a long, cold death.


Details | Narrative |

I'M A SOMEBODY

They listened to your clever lines,
Felt guilty when you gave them blame
Bought in to your stick man stories
The anecdotal evidence you proclaimed

So now adoption is the enemy
Christian families are a villain 
Gotcha day is doom's day
A horror story of joy killing

They believed you, "He was trafficked!"
But if that was true then what went wrong
The dollars would have moved me out of there
If these books were credible I'd have been gone

Of course you knew the true reality
Your agenda was so thinly veiled 
There isn't this army of rescuers
For years adoption numbers have fell

I'm not copy for your editors
Don't care about best selling lists
I wasn't a child for any Catcher's
Those kinds of children rarely exist

You'd think there was an evil industry
By the awful things you wrote
You created your desired fiction
The fact is agencies are going broke

So don't imprison me with narrow labels
I'm just a hurting human being
I'm not a product or a talking point
I'm a somebody, not a something!

No one shopped for me like it was Walmart
I'm a fatherless child, now an aged out orphan
I have a name, hopes, and fears
You sold me out and made a fortune! 

3-10-14
By: Dave Wood

Sponsor: Chris D. Aechtner
Contest Name: Anything Goes


Details | Narrative |

The Empty Tissue Box

My heart was in such pain
I felt like I was going to go insane
I just don't know what to do 
And my eyes full of tears that distort my view

I fell to my knees and felt the urge
My muscle tighten and pin needles struck me like a surge
My body was warm and with feelings so confused
My mind felt sadness had fused

I could not conquer my fears
I just sat down and fell into tears
When some close to you passes on
It felt like a warmth has gone

So I raised my hand towards a box that was empty with no tissue
I first was embarrass and had a little bit of issue
All my friends hugged me and said sorry for your loss
So now I cry in my bed and toss


April 14, 2013


Details | Narrative |

Portrait Of Red

Pain is just another form of medication, feeding the demons that nest inside.
A temporary fix, a band aid per say, covering the secrets I am trying to hide.

I am like the right hand to the devil, with the ability to manipulate others thoughts and emotions.  Exploiting there fears, insecurities and dreams, I can flip in a split second, merely to show my complete and utter devotion.

My eyes and ears are magnified by ten, a gift to some but a burden to me.  I close my eyes to try and escape for a brief moment just to feel free.

Intrigued by the sharp edges of a blade, and the power that it contains.  Just a simple brush across my skin, paints a beautiful portrait of red, dripping like falling drops of rain.

I hurt myself on the outside to kill the evil that lives within.  I'ts relief flowing through my veins, with a rush of instant gratification to make me grin.

The truth to any story always has an open window, it will sneak it's way through.  The eyes can be read like a paper back novel, every word, every image, a tragedy but true.

I'm always aware of my situation and my surroundings, even though it appears I am not paying attention.  I see all, I hear all, studying anyone and everyone requires my full concentration.

Fantasying about death and the peace it brings, oddly is what makes me smile.  To finally put an end to my journey in hell, only keeps me in denial.

Overwhelmed with exhaustion at the end of everyday, I lay my head to rest.  I think to myself that maybe someday, I will finally pass life's test.


Details | Narrative |

Sleepless Nights

Insomnia, familiar friend,
crawled into bed this summer night
so once again, inflamed with dread
I wander now in pitch of dark 
and touch the places, now by heart, that sprawl unstirred by weary minds

This lonely place, where I used to come
where armless grief, and headless doubt
and worry filled the rooms
I know you cold, my land of oz
So ruthless do you change your face
into a place I once refrained

But,  don't pretend to make me fear, toxic robber of my sleep
I've known you much too long
You masquerade in shades of gray
And now I know that dark of night, is not the blackest thing
And room by room, I'll play the game
until the light of day

The shadows magnify your art
and though they magnify my loss of sleep
and while I've tossed and turned in vain
I've lost the lonely albatross
that pulled against the grain

From hooded thresholds I embark
to find a language of the dark
A liquid language of a mystic night, 
that switches on the light

I've walked the halls of ghosts I knew, and those I hope to meet
I've felt the stares, and shared myself, no secrets left to keep
But not tonight, familiar friend
you bask in myth I understand
I'll fill the tasks that need my hands, until the light of day...
---------------


For Leonora Galinta's Contest


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DEMONS ALSO CRY

DEMONS ALSO CRY

Beyond the crave for death
All I sought was first,
Weep-not my newborn soul
Where fireflies shine lighter than the lamps
And fishes swam faster than their homes
Like  trampled troubled tramps,
Then, demons also cry.

Groans and moans of pain,
Down they roam like rain
Memories sparked with flashes of feisty flare
For all that is left is nothing but darkness
Piercing the thread of our bond
That even angels dare not dare
Then, demons also cry

Here, days brimmed with sadness
To miscarriage of nights darkness
That even birds glide backward
And when asked why, we say, its nature to nurture
Conscience lye frozen in muss, has God punished us?
Que sera, sera and all go wayward,
Then, demons are also crying
						By Tutuola michael


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A Dark Man

         This piece is dedicated with love to J.E. Gauthier, Jr. Active addict and father. 
Only by the grace of God may he be saved from the error of his ways.

 For years a dark man walked through a seemingly revolving door
 Steadily leaving his wife and kids as he searched for something more
 Occasionally calling home every now and again
 In his voice they could hear the taint of black sin
 
 Back then life on the road meant drugs money and women far as the eye could see
 He said he'd never look back 'cuz he was born free
 
 Life grew emptier as he grew older
 The drugs grew heavier as his heart grew colder
 His four children left behind with no place to call home
 From day one they made it in this world alone
 
  For years a dark man walked through a seemingly revolving door
 Steadily leaving his wife and kids as he searched for something more
 Occasionally calling home every now and again
 In his voice they could hear the taint of black sin

 Every few years he'd arrive unannounced offering money and a hug
 All while using the garage to hide his drug
 His spitting image could smell his guilt a mile away
 She rolled her gloomy blue eyes in unison with every false word he had to say

 Today his girls are grown raising girls of thier own
 December came and went
 February turned to Lent
 On a stormy midnight he still turns to his blue eyed spitting image
 As the clouds clear she is again lost in the scrimmage

 She lies awake with a bottle of wine in hand
 On her mind weighs a dark man
 His ways make him lonely and lost
 Yet to her death she will fight for him at all costs

  For years a dark man walked through a seemingly revolving door
 Steadily leaving his wife and kids as he searched for something more
 Occasionally calling home every now and again
 In his voice they could hear the taint of black sin


Details | Narrative |

Mortis Amora : Why The Garden Blooms

The TV turned on, my darling turned off, Her face so wan, the skin so soft, Cold to touch in a room too warm, And there on the hutch figurines swarm As if awakened by séance, Hands held, circling in a ghastly dance; Every nuance, every stance Living testaments to dying romance. A ceramic finger's breadth Separates me from my beloved Beth, Berating me for the fates Mete out to my belated mates. Yet no matter how much blood is spilt I soundly sleep sans any guilt, Living my life to the hilt In a house that morbid love has built. To have and hold means many things Having naught to do with wedding rings Or vows of fidelity fondly said, Gazing in the eyes of the newly dead. Upon pillows the bands were borne To the hands they were meant to adorn; Hands adored and hands that mourn Their annualries so lovingly shorn. Strung on strings about their necks, Valued more than life insurance checks, Memorials of trust won and love lost, What else remains is now compost For gardens that strike neighbors dumb In pure envy of my green thumb And the foliage that numbs The pain of my brides ere they succumb. Wedded if only in my mind, With nary a marriage license signed I walk the path from the door To the garden where digging is no chore, But a joy that hides the dear deceased From neighborly eyes and police And the only thing bringing peace To Elizabeth, Elise, and Clarice.


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