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Dark Death Poems | Death Poems About Dark

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

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Details | Iambic Pentameter |

Three Hundred

Three Hundred

The wraiths were ringing dead wrought bells
while closely passed the shady shapes
of woods in dusk, where red indwells
communion made from ghostly grapes.

He ran amidst the winds and passed
across the side where grapevines grew,
it was her presence that amassed
small leaves and droplets of fog's dew.

Inside the winds' lone strings accord,
his Bell full-face, was dropped along
the streamlets and horizon's board,
untamed his scopes, they don't belong.

The Astral Chords! He knew this debt;
the skies demand and kill and draw,
the darkened paths his thought beget,
rose thorny droplets on his brow.

Persephone shall be his wed,
subsiding dew the mist regales,
the stringing roar that reaches red,
his greatest bride resigns his trails.

Shall be the threading of winds' howls,
her plea arises from the shades,
homecoming queen from astral halls,
he harks the northern swashing blades.

Ablution's her enjoining black
"Enfold me in the rising dawn
enfold your sadness in the dark
with magistral the curtains drawn".

Acute of wounds she heals and mends
the asphalt of the mists awaits
pristine her bridal thorns amends
while passing through the Hades gates.

Three hundred reasons drew the drapes,
three hundred strings of diligence;
The winds regaled the bride's agape,
his celebration to commence.

© 10-14-2013, George Venetopoulos
(Iambic Tetrameter - Epic)

Three Hundred = 300 Kilometers per hour. The final speed a super-bike of 1,000cc engine is able to outreach.


Details | Ode |

Dear Lucifer

I cannot compete with something as painstakingly glorious as you
Envy is but a humbling tumble down a steep, rocky hill
I am crushed in your fits of glory—your screaming for passion
My approaches are absolutely wrong
Therefore my communication is a weak, ransomed victim
Your poison arrow frog skin rubs against my exposed body
I happily accept my fate
For your beauty surpasses the ephemeral pain of the infectious reign
My erroneous, inevitable downfall
I hold you up—I feel the need to keep you tall!
Michael the Archangel did not insult you once, Lucifer
How then will I? 
How can I possibly be higher than you?-
Why would I want to?
I admire your freedom
I simply disregard your macrodomes of ever-worshiped flaw 
If I could allow myself, I would share in your glory
Only to add to it further
But as I am poisoned with the truth
I can only be your grounded pedestal
And though you flee from humility in its wake upon my brow
I realize everyday you are living for the grounded now
And I merely look to the unknown future
A place I dread where you unwillingly hold me up
Bonded in the ground with Death and Hades
You become my pedestal, and the worms my vineyard
My parasitic feet seer your glory
I am ever so sorry
I never wanted this renown

There was a time I do recall
When you overtook me in my sleep
I cried aloud in helpless acceptance
But soon I was forced in a croak of laughter
I felt your bitter poison
I felt pride at last
I thank you for it
I thank you for showing me

What I will never be

Dear Lucifer,
Provoke me no longer to praise your eternal existence
Generations of Evening take a hold of me now
And the fruit must be shared


Details | Rhyme |

Goodbye, My Child

Where cradled canyons sing
Of ebony wood in the forest
There lies a gurgling spring
Where cockcrows sing their chorus
To the melody of singsong birds
There I’ve concealed my sensuous words
Filled with befitted signs
The saccharine whiff of my designs

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Where the fogs of night are fountains
Spills of glistened moon ignite
By distant silhouette mountains
We dance with passion of fight
Entwining ancient stance 
Mingling hand in hand we dance
Till the mountains smile on high
Near and far we spring
To pursue the realest of dreams
While the world cries at its seams
Anxious in trouble to cling

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

To where the ridges merry make 
From the beaks of wooden bright
In sparkly pools the ghouls awake
That scarce to stir our night
We watch for seekers down under
Muttering secrets in their soul
We bid them lucks of shivers
Dipping gently in
From reeds that hide a tear of a foal
Under the gentle rivers

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Far away she shall ever churn
The taciturn eyed
She’ll listen no more to turn
To the working mills beside
Or the scrubbing of the barn
May peace weave in her song
She shall wave in the yarn
To a haven known as Belong  

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

For she comes, the mortal youth
To the wild realm of her truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only her tears be found


Details | Heroic Couplets |

Necromancer (The Haunting Continues...)

In the cemetery I walk, so dark it is this night.
 Hoping that the Ghouls won't start to bite.
I feel the tug of the dead, as each grave I pass.
 Thankful this nervous tension won't last.

Armed with my Animation supplies,
 I stare out at all the green glowing eyes.
A chicken for my blood sacrifice,
 Raising the dead, there's always a price.

The salt keeps the dead inside.
 Using the machete our magic, we'll ride.
Salt is for everybody's protection.
 Cold steal seals out any deception.

To prime the earth so the dead will rise,
 cast the blood and create our ties.
Focus my energy and the ground starts to shake.
 Winds whip through the area and the on-lookers quake.

I command all that is at least 3 days dead.
 Just enough time for the soul to move ahead.
Born with this power as a Necromancer,
 When I will my power all the dead have to answer.

I look to Sandra Hudson, who hired me,
 to raise the dead and hear their screams.
I call Illyanna De La Keur from her deep, dark grave.
 Her words are scary so be very, very brave.


For John Loving III's "Haunted Poets Society"


Details | Iambic Pentameter |

Her Soul, the Sea - The Ship

The Ship (Her Soul, the Sea)

Foreshadowing the dusk, appeared immense,
magnanimous the skylines sent the ship,
its blackened sight embossed the thought and sense
of sailors that imagined its long trip.

The ship's black smoke ascended to the skies
from supercilious tall funnels, smog
bestowed its sacrificial offing size
to sovereign Gods that lived inside the fog.

In front of us, the ship's displacement thrilled
approaching thus magnificent the moors;
Her Soul, the Sea, and eulogy that killed,
relentlessly enticed, through dark allures.

The night descended when the ship's steel gaze
examined curious and measured me,
proposing wedlock and a fate of blaze,
my competence, demanding, in the sea.

Across the Straits, young Lady Sadness kissed
with ripping cold my twenty years and eyes,
resembling Her Soul, the Sea, amidst
the Northern winds that howled and life's demise.

© 10-15-2013, G.Venetopoulos, All Rights Reserved
(Iambic Pentameter)


Details | Ode |

Nyx

Nyx - Ode -

Strophe:

The shadows know the
scent of clove
as Nyx devolves her
orphic code;
her odes address the
stars above,
inviting so, the
Morpheus' bode.

Her darkness strings
the scenic
stillness,
her laughter waves
inside the ether,
small hours submit
erotic bleakness,
advancing 'mid the
sage and heather.

The creatures glance
- with eyes of amber
beneath the blinking
starry flare,
while Nyx, the
infinite advancer,
inflicts her
thralldom and
affair.

Antistrophe:

The blanching moon,
in ventured glory,
embraced by Erebus
at night,
unfolds her mane of
black graphite,
distributing her
daunting dowry.

She meekly bids to
worlds of blooms,
the mortals on the
breezes' breath,
bestowing grand the
kiss of death,
with fates to weave
the orchard looms.

Epode:

Suggesting darkened
deeds and dismal,
with sovereignty she
guides - abysmal,
the chanted souls to
follow thence,
her clouded callings
consequence.

© G. Venetopoulos,
26-03-2014 - (date
the poem was
revised)
© G. Venetopoulos,
10-03-2012 
(Iambic Ode)
___

Nyx = Night

Paintings of Nyx:
http://tinyurl.com/67gs9u

http://tinyurl.com/ndvfvbw

The story on
Wikipedia:
{
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nyx
Nyx ("Night" in
Greek) – Roman (in
Latin): Nox – is the
Greek goddess (or
personification) of
the night. A shadowy
figure, Nyx stood at
or near the
beginning of
creation, and was
the mother of other
personified deities
such as Hypnos
(Sleep) and Thanatos
(Death). Her
appearances are
sparse in surviving
mythology, but
reveal her as a
figure of
exceptional power
and beauty. She is
found in the shadows
of the world and
only ever seen in
glimpses. }


Details | Epic |

"LADY DEATH"

   "LADY  DEATH" ------Chaos!!!

Craving life was all of 'HOPE' desire.
Torturing her into the odyssey of Hells fire.
Ending her in heartbreak by her own insane,
cruel father Matthais.
A demon so obsessed with dark power.
Head demon to all hells devour.

Matthais allowing his beloved 'HOPE' to be burned.
In a hellish death as a witch.
Pleading for her life.
All 'HOPE' is lost,
 in a pit of endless broken bones.
The supernatural appeared in front of 'HOPE'.
'HOPE' complied and renounce to give up humanity.
Tricked by demons who lied.
Manipulated that this would save her sanity.

A power bestowed with a creation so rare.
A Demi Goddess of destruction.
Chaos soon will inflict every hour.
With death in her place, she turns in to,
a cold blooded Diva of Death.

Reliving in the plague of dark ages.
Angels and Demons flow through her blood.
With contradiction of many stages.
Many evil forces out to end her existence.
Betrayed by all she knew.
Now she is locked in a demonic resistance.
Defeating Lucifer herself.
Blading the neck of the prince
Death lusting for power in an epic battle.
Lost forever in the era of judgment.
Revenge she claims on her throne.
Making Lucifer's power her own.
A forever endless graveyard.
Restoring into the blood of her new home.

Making hell tremble, many slay to death's assault.
Death arising to all her faults.
Declaring the lost of 'HOPE'
A mans worst nightmare in the sweetest form.
Over throwing her one time dream.

Obsessed with his Lady'''
 Evil Earnie.
Rides by her side.
A  domino of all killers.
In a blood bath stream.
Killing everyone in his & her path.
Killing for her love, his Lady Death love.

Pondering about her lifeless soul.
"All HOPE is gone!"
all that is left is death.
"Lady Death"
  Lord of hell
On a mission of Mega Death.
To conquer all of earth.
Men killing for her demonic way.
Evil Earnie matching to the depth of her Odyssey.

With the belief .
That behind every good man, (EVIL EARNIE)
is a good women..                  (LADY  DEATH)


((Lady Death is a character in her own CHAOS ))


Details | Ballad |

Disturbed Child

That disturbed child
The teen girl with no friends, 
and is rejected by her loved ones
She feels broken inside,
like theres no other choice
She takes the iron razor, 
she puts it to her arm and hopes the pain will fade,
but in the end it only makes her feel worse
She does this to herself not because she is sad, 
but because she doesn't think any one cares
She thinks 
What if I put this razor to my throat,
and ended my life
Would they care then?
She feels like no one cares 
What she doesn't realize is, 
if she died a river of tears would come,
even faster then the blood would run from her
If she only knew life can be brighter 
If she would only see, 
that she is loved
That disturbed child, 
We miss her
and theres no getting her back
What could we have done
Was there any changing her mind
Only God knows


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 | Free verse |

I, a Red Skin dog, as some may delight to call me,

I, a Red Skin dog, as some may delight to call me,
I have heard the tales of horror, from my dark skinned foes.
I have heard the tales of terror, from others who became my friends.
And I have walked with a dark skinned woman of their tribe.
We walked in the beauty of her courage, together. Tearless. 
Tearless we both were as she spoke, for tears, only gods could cry for her.
I am a Red Skin dog.
And yet we walked together and we talked – together, fearless,
I and this swaying ebony sapling, sprung from the roots of my foes tribe.
We talked of the pitiless reality of that life she left behind, of that time
That she has left, far, far behind, like a useless scar
That has toughened over. And made her stronger. 
I learned from this daughter of my foes
That true courage is never fearless, but always stronger. Victorious,
Stronger she was by far, to this Red Skin dog
Than the thousand sons who died, in her honor. So they say. Ridiculous,
But I have heard the balance of their sins.
And for all the tales I have heard from those angry young men, and their vengeful fathers
Her horror was a thousand times more sinister. A thousand times more callous.
Horror took up residence in her home but never in her heart.
But for others, I cannot speak.
“…splinters and bursting fragments…in my mind
Ai! Tearing! Memory of tearing flesh, swallowing tears and mucus, blood and bile
…bruising and ripping garments…off my body
…filthy, familiar hands tearing at my dress…
…my legs split and broken like a wild pig slaughter, my screams smashed from my lips,
With the butt of a rifle, just used to kill a Red Skin dog…
Aieee! Clean this floor mama, mop up this spew!
It cannot be mine!
This child is not mine!
It is not mine! It is the devils own creation born in hell fire!
Born in my death! 	
Aieee! I am dead, I cannot be alive. 
I am dead and the Red Skin dogs have eaten my corpse.
Those spirits in their wingless chariot flew over the land and sea, to rescue me?
Rescue me from that black devil who said he was like Jesus to me.
I thought you were my uncle-brother…
Who else could have found us here?
Hidden away from the Red Skins and their Wingless Angels.
Only you my uncle-brother
Only you could have found us
Only you could have killed us.
And now the progeny of your evil deed suckles at my breasts
As I lie dead in the home of those Red Skin dogs you fought.”


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