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Premium Member Poem | Details | Dark Poem | |

Alice Sweet Alice

      ~Alice Sweet Alice~

        *Like Sisters*
  Everyday -- Holding Hands 
Sunday Dress -- Pink Ribbons
         *Her And I*


How can they say she did not exist
This Sweet Girl I Named Alice

The way she looked at me
-her eyes tender green
A body figure I can't describe
Together we played hide and seek
We swung in ways no one could see
This girl with pretty red curls
Who loves the sound of pouring rain.

Together we slept under the same breeze 
We carved our names on the same tree
Side by Side it Read Alice & I!
We whispered the day I fell off my bike
Alice sweet Alice, said I look good in bloody red

Every day I stared into the mirror
Alice put her left hand on my right
We share the same identical scars,
under the right and left palm.

The way she held my hand
Healed the scrapes in every fall
Beating from the bullies, she could not take
Again Alice, whispers--- "Kill Them All!"
No one ever said a word,
when she stood by my side
Alice, knew me inside and out.
She knew my eyes -When they cried!

Now I can't sleep,
Since the day Alice, fell in the abyss
Forever conscious in a self hug
--- this is no dream 

The rage took place 
--- when she left!
Burning curtains  
Empty mirrors
This Girl Named Alice, spoke of darkness
Then disappeared 

Now when I hear the sound of pouring rain
I stare at the shadows on the wall
I allow myself to soak in the abyss of where it started all.

My hair of red, is not the same
These cuts are all that remain
The only clue in which Alice, was here!
Holding on to stainless blade

ALICE SWEET ALICE! 
Please call my name!
Why did they say she never held a single breath?
I know she is real, she's existed
Why else would I had let her cut my wrist?

This Sweet Girl 
"I YELL FOR ALICE!"
Visits again ---
Who is to believe?
For everyone says 
Alice lives inside my head.

By;PD

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Silent Page

Silent Heart

Sad, as it maybe, I had to break my OWN heart, 
Too many nights, I sat there all torn apart
A dream girl, 
Sitting under its own corrupted auspices sky 
You the poet, in disguise
Telling white lies about, your love for me
Saying I'm a boon from the sky....
A match, a queen, your muse, your everything
I'm no-good, I admit this once more, 
Your advice, I forever adorn 

It's time I follow the crying crows, and praise what is left
Afraid to listen my rhymes weren't cutting it, 
I release it all!
Your smiles, words, and worn out shoulders
I walked away
Silently--
I acted on
Without a word, in a fetal stage I awake
Tonight you carry a tune for others
A story of a man who stole my soul of sins
A poet, I long forever more
Always, you will own the only sound that still beats inside
To live alone, in silence, asleep in my own world
I had to let go, 
-Of him, whose name I whisper in darkness
The only thing that remains, are the echoes of pouring rain

Too many reasons, writer's block, took full moon
You are a poet, from another lifetime, 
Down in Mandalay, I can no longer ask you to stay
Reading everything about my life, yet you can't answer
Alliterating poems, greeting every dark shadow, normally yours
Many nights I waited, long for the moment of my OWN return
Instead,
I dusted myself off like yesterday's verse, yesterdays dirt
Cobweb, remain on my page
My pen now sits like a twig
No motion, since the day I decided I am not worthy of the wait
You the poet, who walks my way
I pressured less of me every day
Like Aspen, a forever winter cold! 
In your eyes, you wonder why, 
I trace the white smoke standing in your place?

To savor your words, once more 
It's too soon to breathe again. 

I hope you understand, 
How can I continue to love, when I don't even love myself?

By:PD

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Sheol

Dark Knight-tress 

Underneath 
This gown I feel nothing
Silk less feelings
The odor of intimate apparel lessens 
Vanity fare from any sun
Warrior of beauty
Where have you gone?
A fortress of gloom
Not even death wants in
Black nail tips
Brownish plum lips

I close my eyes 
I see them all
The Shadows
Climbing over my soul
The darken deepens 
The stars dim my view
Irremovable makeup
Land becomes an enemy
I become
The Dark Knight-tress
Scolding my next victim

~S~

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Stalking The Stalker: Peter Pan Can


Captain Hook, you shine your Swastika 
with the schizophrenic shadows
that followed you to the dimly-lit places 

where you attempt to be a Fuhrer, 
Herr Doktor und the Gestapo 
all wrapped into one -- 
a one-trick-pony with three phony faces.

The shadows hiss into your ear,
"He is Peter. He is also Peter. She too, is Peter.
They are all Peter!"

Just as the foolish invoke the Devil with repetition,
I will grant your wish, by being Peter The Pan;
your Precious obsession.

I am clad in skeleton leaves
and the flowing sap of Skull-Cap trees.

Wendy is an inverted double-u:
M stands for the Murderously silent swagger
of Neverland's Cloak and Dagger.

Stalker-Troll, you are emboldened 
behind the illusory safety of microchips
and a screen that brightly glows.

Put your false bravado where your hook clacks the keys,
because I play for keeps, 
yet know enough to tip the chimney-sweeps.

And the Lost Boys are in tow.
The system lost sight of us
after we aced our exams on William Golding --
yes, Piggy, boys will always....be....boys.

The Lost Boys are Canis Lupus:
Peter and his Wolves
howling at their pearled Goddess.

Nibs, Slightly, Curly, and The Twins
are tracking your scent to under the bridge
where you dine and slumber with Gluttony's swine.

Ignorance, you invoked Pan's gift-bearing countenance
with your fattened, unsmiling jowls,

so here I come clad in skeleton leaves
and the flowing sap of Skull-Cap trees.

My shadow slinks over there,
but I am hiding over here,
patiently waiting to release you
from the sickness whispering in your ear.




*This is a fictional stab at some Poésie-Noir 
for the sake of sentimentality and your entertainment.
Please, enjoy, have a slice.




February 19th, 2014







+/-

Premium Member Poem | Details | Dark Poem | |

It Matters Not

It hovers here, a moon opaque, obscuring mountain trails I take. No other living things appear. A moon opaque. . . It hovers here. I follow on along a ledge; below a swirling river’s edge. In front of me, the canyon’s yawn. Along a ledge, I follow on. I see no hue when fog congeals. Oh, doom of one who no more feels! The moon has fled, as so have you. When fog congeals, I see no hue. Now all is dim; it matters not. My dear one’s heart I have not got. No use in living without him. It matters not. Now all is dim. At peace I’ll be if I should fall to murky water from this wall. Oh, yawning canyon, swallow me. If I should fall, at peace I’ll be. 'for the Gothic or Romantic (old/new) Contest of Giorgio Veneto and now for the contest of PD

| Details | Dark Poem | |

A Place

I have seen fair lady April
Dance with daffodils;
I have seen the misty dawn
Light moors and windy hills.
Painted in dark shadows
Of a sunlit afternoon
I have smelled the heady scent
Where blue hyacinths commune.

I have heard the curlew's call
As she sailed the wild dark sea;
And seen the sailor guide his ship
In the dream that used to be.
I have known precious moments
In the echoes of a song;
But I never knew the comfort of
A place where I belong.

Premium Member Poem | Details | Dark Poem | |

Silver Haze

*                     ~Dark Silver Haze~                               *

   (side#1)                                         (side #2)

come taste life                  ----------  Heart-warming wine
old and stale,                   ----------   Jot down a line
unflavored, unpolished,      ---------   Mood changes hue
A sour, dim shade              ---------   To sweet silver blue

the lowest feeling              ---------- How high the cost
eternal gray sky               ----------  How much is lost
hollow memories               ---------- Back payment due
A sour, dim shade             ---------  To sweet silver blue 

weak limbs, overpower         ------- Head shake and sigh
moments of lights              --------  None left to deny
everything ends                 --------  Insight in view
A sour, dim shade             --------  To sweet silver blue 


torn from reality             --------   Somehow I gain
low spirits of sorrow        --------  Beauty from pain
bitter and dull,                 --------- As thoughts turn to you
A sour, dim shade           --------   To sweet silver blue


**A deep Look Into The eyes of the Poet Destroyer**

~A Tim Ryerson Collaboration~

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Tears

You painted your choices with my blood on them
Your walk to freedom, your life and your ways
I stumble on, a runaway from nowhere
Denying life to drown ugly truths

You sold me to despair, lonely years in hell
As you turned away and gave me a name
“Liar”, is that me? Is that your reality?
A cold cover to harsh plays on a five-year old

Tutored hard into their perversities
I limped through life, and your friends
Running to you when I could look back
I tripped over trust and lost it forever.

Cry for me momma when I finally give up
Those tears from you might soften old blows
I’ll know then you are not the mother you seem
And I’ll make excuses for every one of them…




Premium Member Poem | Details | Dark Poem | |

A twisted tale -Mardi Gras-

Mardi Gras "The Medieval Story"  

On a hot, heavy night in Orleans,
Joan and Jane were seen rubbing chest on chest
An inviting, intimate moment, to undress
Two pretty trimmed tops, eating like dames
They touched in ways, that drove those who make war insane
The secret spilled, before the sun sprawled across the floor

Medieval England, banging on iron set doors,
All around men and women, wanting to witness the whiplash 
Beads and beads of love, thrown at their feet
Joan' and Jane', having fun in front of, yesterdays courtyard
Sweet acts of flagellation were performed to stimulate the crowd
Screaming, and receiving, intense, brutal lacerations 
In the eyes of endless nudity, everything wet in between 
Left to right, a secluded society, dance in masquerade 
Two men rise and ravage Jane, from hip to hip
Join-in, was a Jouster, and Lord Johnsburgh, 
They came-in a little closer to claim, Joan
Closing, and inflicting as much damage as possible

Crestfallen forces of the unknown, -the audience grows
Remain firm and indulge this wet period of the Middle Ages,

The first crusade, held stones in each hand, 
Applauding to neck the beauty of friends
A noose hanging high, held no head on this day
Yelling to feel the pain perils of anguish, 
This was in reality the vassal of Jane
The King, ask to see them on their knees
Before he seeded, sending the Spanish tickler, 
Fetching for the finest skin
At her end, Joan, watched Jane, spread like never before
Perfumed skin, rising up in smoke, -Joan's final stroke
Left burning at the Stake, In a Medieval World, from hell
The Siege of Joan and Jane, did not end well
 
A lonely Bard, now sits and sings a sadistic tale,
A tale, of dirty deeds, -a dancing bloody masquerade 
Joan and Jane, compensating for the Mardi Gras Parade

By: SKAT

| Details | Dark Poem | |

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 | Dark Poem | |

Obsidian

An almost stillness came about
as she strode into my door,
like breath itself refused to move,
fearful of touching her mysterious beauty

But her obsidian eyes betrayed her. 

Sharp and gleaming,
with a silver sheen
she looked at me, 
and I knew…

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Molten lava spilled forth from her mouth, melting our clocks—
eighteen hundred nightmares compressed in two hours.
Long hand moving forward, as the short hand moved backward
How can memories persist in such an acrid life?

She spoke of a beast in the guise of a man,
 one who ravaged innocence with the flick of a click
A coward that collected milk teeth for hardened bones
of other horny beasts with no spine

That throaty tenderness when she spoke 
sprinkled crystal seeds of frustration in me
She says he loathed him, denied she loved him
but her obsidian eyes betrayed her

There she was, a bud he plucked from the nuns’ garden
He grafted then he pruned her, 
spreading her pollen, wafting her scent
yet folding her petals to himself

Caterpillars feeding upon her leaves,
she lets them devour her,
yet once they are wrapped in their cocoons to sleep,
she stabs them with her thorns.

Tears then slid down from her midnight lace eyes
and it was all I could do to catch them
She said she was weary of curtailing butterflies,
of tearing their wings before they can even fly

I had to ask, how many… how many winged gems?
She lifted her sleeves, and showed me her scars
One ugly mark for each innocent child plunged deep,
my heart getting slashed at least three hundred a beat.



-----------------------------------------------------------------------------


A certain stillness came about
as I strode into her door,
like fear itself refused to move,
letting breath touch her mysterious beauty for the last time....

Her obsidian eyes had betrayed her. 

Sharp and gleaming,
with a silver sheen
I looked at the knife beside her.

Maroon-mapped sheets, a stunted womb.
 
Strains of Bon Iver’s “Flume”
flit past the sighing air like a butterfly,
and I knew…









08112014


Premium Member Poem | Details | Dark Poem | |

THE VAMPIRE

For I am death, the personification of pure evil,
The grand godfather, of legions of unnumbered generations.
Behold thy disciples, baptized beneath my crimson waters,
Of blood.
Then reanimated as the living undead, in mine own image,
These are my forsaken children of the Night.
Kissed by the angel of death, I'm resurrections insurrection,
Spawned in hell a creature devoid of heart or soul, yet do I
Exist, biting at the exposed throat of humanity, leaving it
Drained completely dry.
Does not the white lily turn ember red, within this the
Valley of damnation.
My throne is a black coffin gilded in golden refinement,
Residing beneath the wooden lid, the beast sleeps,
Waiting to be embraced by the darkness of night.
Slowly, emerging from mine cryptic mausoleum,
I'm famished for the taste of the living essence
Of mankind.
A gentlemen reaper of the fallen, deeply do these
Fangs penetrate into the soft flesh of humanity,
Tis a dark blessing's supernatural gift, have I been 
So given, to take life then to restore it.
Raw beasts of instinct, clinging to the ethereal
Moon, that hangs above illuminating this,
Our unholy abyss.
Welcome to a shadow nation of the unseen,
Whose roots extend backwards, to an older country’s
Unconsecrated soil, called Transylvania. 
On mine legacies crest, a red dragon with talons
Extended reaches out, grappling for powers control.
For I am Dracula, born of royal blood in life,
But in death I am a king, let these castle walls
Bleed on forever, and the hounds of hell,
Sing outside my rod iron gates.
But beware mortal flesh if you so enter,
For I will enjoy every trespasser,
Whom dares to venture within my
Sacred territory, with a fiendish smile
Upon my hungering face.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN

| Details | Dark Poem | |

Wet brain- fictional

Theres this knawing in my tummy
A burning in my ear
I feel your presence next to me
Yet you are hardly here

I'm not sure when it happened
but now it's crystal clear 
Though your body's in the room
Youre vacant. --Insincere 

I wonder- was it worth it? 
To throw it all away?
All the things you squandered
to keep the pain at bay

All the things you had to pawn
just to get you through your day
Traded growth for comfort
Traded gold for hay

And I don't think you'll ever realize
the person you used to be
Now on a quest with no direction
In drunken ecstasy 

These thoughts so sick and twisted
They make me want to flee
Spinning round in circles
A pirate lost at sea

I wish that you could see it
the way I clearly do
Suddenly I wonder
Who am I talking to?

Look around one last time
There's no one here. It's true. 
And that is when reality
finally does come through

I see it there in front of me
A reflection in a mirror
I know it now for certain
Death is creeping nearer

I poor myself another drink
I hold my poison dearer
Then anything I've ever held 
Reality becomes much clearer

I know I'll never break away
from this cage I built
It's destiny to end it here
There's nothing left but guilt

So I gently shut my eyes
And pray I'll quickly wilt
I look for one last sign of comfort
Grab tight to my quilt

The one my mother gave to me
on her final day on earth
She died too from the bottle
Pitiful, without self worth

I set a lonely fire with a lonely match
I watch it slowly flicker as I lay by the hearth
There was never once a chance for me
Doomed from the day of birth

Premium Member Poem | Details | Dark Poem | |

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.

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Destiny

a child plays alone watching from behind a tree the predator smiles

| Details | Dark Poem | |

Pitch Black Sun

Inspired by Edgar Allen Poe's "Annabel Lee"

?????????

       Pitch Black Sun

I stand tall though, weak and weary
Mask my eyes for they are teary
Functioning proper,  but thinking un-clearly
In regards to struggles they don't know

The sun is out,  but it's dark as night
I've long since given up this fight
A dark vessel,  merely reflecting light
To disguise feelings I can't show

Would they think me lost for mad
If I dare share the thoughts I've had
For surely, it may end bad
They'd neglect to understand me

He pens me letters,  passed through time
No poet better skilled at crafting rhyme
To reach, into depth, this heart of mine
In this city,  city near the sea

Did the dark master, somehow know
Of these feelings,  I dare not show
Or from his pens, did they grow 
To reflect his spirit inside of me

Can embers still burn, once turned to ash
Blow through time,  escaping the past, 
To create a love,  a respect to last
Can any of this be? 

As sitting under the darkest sun,  I'm left to wonder
Is he the one, to keep me from going under
For upon his pain,  I often ponder
If I was his Annabel Lee

A love left missed,  a denied last kiss,  oh how broken was he
Sworn to her soul,  unable to control,  the fate of Annabel Lee
Separated by death,  death of love, in their kingdom by the sea
Leaving me to question, my direction, and did Poe pen for me

A bond formed over centuries
Leaving great mystery
Of the truth of history
And what it all could be

So as I stand tall yet weak and weary
Mask my eyes for they are teary
I am suddenly thinking clearly
They shall never know

With a sun as dark as night
Me, merely reflecting light
To keep my sadness out of sight
I speak to my poor Dead Poe
®

9-11-14
Katei - Kathryn Ramirez 

Pt 2 is posted. 

| Details | Dark Poem | |

A LullabyTo The Lost

Life and cigarettes burn to fast.
We waste are time.
So within the moment you bask.

A pretty face has to age.
Every story meets  it's final page.
When life breaks you over its cost.
Then you'll sing a lullaby to the lost.

The lights in the street hide all but the truth my 
dear.
You can act.
But you can never mask your  fear.

In dark rooms you sell all but your soul.
A wicked moment a stolen encounter.
All things take there toll.

That sweet face has tuirned hard your so warm 
to be cold.
A secret that the bitter have already told.

Can you wash away there stench as from 
the past you are tossed.
In dark corners blood stained angles 
sing a lullaby  to the lost.

Is this hell or a nightmare  that knows no end.
A cell to most.
To others the only refuge inwhich they 
can depend.

she falls to the floor a lost look needle  
in arm.
Most will rememeber a doomed fool.
Others her wreckless charm.

She was  a junkie  and a easy lay.
More bones are broken.
Over words others say.

She sold flesh but payed the ultimate
cost.
In a dingy corner of th world.
Were the angles sing a lullaby to the lost.

Premium Member Poem | Details | Dark Poem | |

The Malkavian part 1 perfect version

His mind has all the meaning of a madman that is screaming
Tortured and tormented, a life lived to be lamented
Drained and defeated, his family finally retreated 
Leaving him believing that he was beyond redeeming 
The doctors sent in spoke of hope and healing 
The drugs they administered only made him more demented 
Cemented is the feeling that is life is just an echo 
Of an endless, timeless, all-consuming screaming 

His best friend is a disproportioned bird, appropriately named buddy 
Whose monotonous motion in drinking is somewhat soothing to his being 
Though not potent enough to stop, the persistent pounding of the screaming
Often he stares into the emptiness of nothingness, contemplating the beauty 
of its existence 
Only to find his mind is drowning in a confounding conundrum he can’t quite 
define
It’s hard to be philosophical when your mental testicles have fallen to the proper 
level
So sometimes he whispers tongue twisters until his brain blisters
Madmen mask madness in the meticulous mastery of mindless tasks

Buddy was telling a troubling tale, of a dragon drunk off of some dwarven ale 
Who through two days, threw up flames and burnt down the tavern and town 
When the door to his room opened with a plume of plum perfume 
In stepped an inept and unkempt nurse named Nancy
Her green eyes and fiery red hair caused his heart to flutter and flair with fancy
She had quite the quiet voice and was quick to trip over her own two feet 
A bit naïve, she would easily believe anything she had heard or seen
He knew he would make her his, no matter the time nor energy 

It was easy for him to pretend to be prim and proper 
Just a mask to don in order to dupe his doctor
Circumventing the system that couldn’t save him 
He was as he always had been and would be
In constant pain and agony with no desire for sympathy
Just in need of some freedom from his prison and medication
Meditation and mantras had given him the sentiment of a design
On how to inhibit the screaming, and maybe even end it

Four years plotting and planning the perfect moment of promise
A fire formed from a single flamed fueled from an accelerant 
It raced through the halls, up the walls, over the ceiling, killing all the residents
Eighty-eight inmates and staff burned alive in what felt like an instant 
Such little time to search through the bodies, looking for a single person
He found her on the fourth clinging to the bathroom faucet 
He lost his virginity to the burnt corpse of Nurse Nancy 
To his amazed mind, he was astonished to find, the screaming was silenced



just a note I cannot reduce the font so the lines fit without overlapping as they 
do in stanza two

Premium Member Poem | Details | Dark Poem | |

The Grim Reaper Cometh

As All Hallows’ Eve approacheth my thoughts turneth to darkest dread,
Whilst in old age I harboureth a deep fear of seeing this one’s grim head;
Me thinks the Grim Reaper cometh this time with his scythe in hand,
Which striketh maximum fear in me and maketh him feel quite so grand. 

Death and darkness doth pervade this spirit’s intent from that great beyond,
And bringeth one a chilling fear if one’s destiny be unending Hellspawn;
All Hallows’ Eve is the image I conjureth of my imminent departure,
But I hopeth for divine intervention and protection during this departure.

For I shan’t want to feel the fear and malediction of the Grim Reaper’s gaze,
As he eerily walketh in the deep mist to bringeth my soul into that darkest haze;
I prayeth then Oh Lord God, haveth an Angel escort me on my final trip beyond,
And spareth me the Grim Reaper’s terrifying visit and his image of Hellspawn.

I asketh thy divine power and all goodness in protecting my eternal spirit and soul,
And delivereth them to Heaven on All Hollows' Eve most sound and quite whole!

Amen!  Amen!  Amen! 

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany
(October 25, 2014) (Shakespearean Sonnet in a Rhyme poetic format)

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Shades of Poe , Speaketh

Shades of Poe , Speaketh


Shades of Poe oft run in my veins
dark, dirty little splashing stains
No Raven stirs my battered heart
nor any signs on my astrology chart

Dark mysteries seep in at night
shadowed beings birthing fright
Muffled sounds sent to alarm
evil crying to scare and harm

Then my soul cries out to Poe
help me now , for you must know
Remedy for this sad affliction
a spell to give quick eviction

Reply creeps slowly back to me
close your eyes to sadly see
Darkness that drives men mad
such my heart and soul once had

No cure can by me be so gifted
you need Light to be so uplifted
My words are my aid little as is
answer you seek can only be His
Son of Light only can save you
my darkness left me only that clue!

Robert J. Lindley  10-12-2014

note:  Tis' the month the Dark spreads 
its evil mists to kids tucked in beds,
scary voices crying muffled shouts,
battles and shadowed little bouts,
goblins, ghouls and witches now abound
imagine such and they are then found!

| Details | Dark Poem | |

Mother is Dove

Modest woman moderate woman
Your inner beauty strikes me
Like the tongue of noble eloquence
More than gold even refined gold
Or our purged fulgent silver.

Black woman proud woman
Your pride is not haughty
But a humble pride of eaglets;
Your black eyes are so glittering
As the eyes of our dark rivers
Filled with messages of peace
That banish the broody turmoil
From those panting hearts
Of your foreigned offsprings.

Gentle mother diligent mother
Your kindness kindles the fires
Of my heart –
Your dexterity dresses
The table of our ageless history
And the thought of your being
– Oh kind mother! –
Makes the most delicious menu 
For my heart.

I remember your naked feet
Fast and fair as a pigeon’s limbs
Treading the invisible paths
Almost covered by shrubs
Small shrubs misted by the prime mist.

I remember the wood from the wood 
The water from the water 
And manifold items from jungle alleys 
Borne by your delicate hands
And upon your soft black-haired head.

I remember the constant match 
To markets and to farms
And your bright face smeared with 
The ash dust
Making you more beautiful
Than any woman whose feet
Ever touched the naked earth.

I remember those burdens
Upon your cheerful kin-souls 
And babies strapped to your backs
Babes full of unspoken words
To unborn others in patient wombs
Waiting in an endless turn –
Indeed, mother is dove!
A black dove and a dark huntress
A hunter’s gift from the maker?

Mother is like a weaver-bird
Building a big foot-like nest
Filled with corn and warmth
A bundle of eagle-flight
Mother is dove
And the hunter calls her
The clan’s eternal dove.

Oh, mother loving woman 
Gentle as our black horizon
To you we humbly come
From these far and lonely lands
Hoping to grace our love and beauty
Before that jealous grave
Makes her temporary feast.

Premium Member Poem | Details | Dark Poem | |

Deep Dark Poem

     ~Deep Dark Poem~

Tonight I want to go deeper in my soul
I want to be born again tonight I want
to go back in my mothers womb and feel
my happiness of my first cry yet feel her 
real pain while she was delivering me
I want to feel both all her pain and the 
little of happiness I had since I was born.
I want to feel each breath I breathed since 
that first night I want to see my fathers
eyes if he had a tear of happiness while 
holding me for the first time .
                 
I want to walk talk laugh cry climb defeat 
succeed breath suffocate scream eat drink 
revive my senses I want to hold her breast 
and be a baby again I don't want to grow 
Old yet I want to remain a new born in her 
arms to feel safe I want to hold my fathers 
glasses and see the color of his eyes will I 
have them will I have his nose will I have 
my mothers softness will I cry for help will 
I see and hear and listen and run and walk 
and hold her hand to feel safe I am lost 
tonight I need her grip.
                     
I need my brother who carried me where is 
he today why did he leave me so early and 
die so young I want to eat with them I want 
to share with them in what state of mind 
I am in tonight I want to go home tonight 
to my mother and fathers home I want to
see their light at their home as I am living
through my darkest hours tonight.
But I cannot as all what I want 
I cannot have.

I want their faithful love I want to sleep 
on their bed and feel the warmth of their 
love in our home where I was born and 
after years I was torn away from them 
to live in another mans home. 
                   
They forgot to tell me how much they 
have suffered when I left their home and 
went away they forgot to tell me so many 
things that iI am experiencing them now
today yesterday and tomorrow my life 
passed away so quickly busy bringing up 
my kids busy giving them an education 
busy cooking for them busy working to 
provide for them everything busy washing 
busy crying busy going out busy busy where 
are they now where was I when my father 
left to climb up his ladder where was I 
when my mothers turn arrived to climb up her
ladder and stay next to him they went up to 
meet their son who left them years ago he 
was only 29 years old they had to live suffering 
suffering missing missing him their first born 
for years and years.
                     
Father of my 2 boys thee only ecstasy 
I had during that marriage nothing was 
real except my kids nothing existed except 
them nothing meant anything in my world 
except them nothing ever passed before 
them they are my light when i am blind 
they are my laughter in my inside they 
are with me with every breath I breath 
we are inseparable even when they are 
far I see them when its dark I see them 
when I am deaf I hear them through my 
strength I survive to keep them alive. 
I walk alone yet their shadow never 
leaves my sight they call my name from 
far I call them back I write to reach out 
for them to read through my lines how 
much I need to be cared for even one day 
maybe half a day maybe a few hours even 
one second is more then enough to pump 
my heart to go on.
                  
So sorry my fellow poets tonight when 
you read through my lines you will forgive 
me as I am sentimentally in pain affectionately 
in pain tonight my pen was agonizing missing 
my children missing to see them how do I survive 
daily without them I don't know I know I have 
been doing that for the past 35 years seeing 
them on and off due to the war in our country
& unexplainable circumstances. 
Tonight forgive me. I have no more tears.
                                                                                   
                                                                                            Therese Bacha
  Deep Dark Poem for contest of PD  (Win.No 4 )                            22/2/2013

| Details | Dark Poem | |

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


Premium Member Poem | Details | Dark Poem | |

Dark Grace


The asphalt of the ghost, deserted town is old and split,
my thoughts it claims upon the edges of sky's foreign moons,
I saw redemptive souls emerging from the depths of wit,
designs that winters form with interlaced on walls, festoons.

The Mistral blows (my soul), new paths defines and ridges crowns,
inside the dreams embeds the windy drawls and teenage years,
my mind foresees, its state to evolute and be renown,
while my December eyes become, reflectors of cold's tears.

Along those roads, deserted towns become a threaded toy,
of Mistral calls, a song abandoned in a bard's old tale,
unerringly be whistled by the ghosts and gusts' decoy.
alike the blowing winds (my soul), stand tall, in their assail.

She drifts in Mists! A cotton fog and mystery's versed text,
upon a sculptured bark, her promised vision I inhale,
Was I so handsome in her eyes, dimension thus convex,
a splashing wave upon her wharf and she, the night's dark veil?

I saw her form surpassing voices' amplitude and fast
on skyward billows of adjoining rains thenceforth to glide,
was pre-designed and coarse the destiny her beauty passed,
in emptiness wind-gates that led to naught, in fog to hide.

Befallen Angels then transformed time's masquerade to wings,
I saw my soul to stare at the buffoon's dark colored face
Inside the winds, a marionette he was without the strings,
- oh, her aphotic eyes that stared in me, and her dark grace!

© G.V. 10-02-2013 All rights reserved
(Iambic Heptameter - Quatorzain)

| Details | Dark Poem | |

In the Dark of Night

As you all peacefully sleep
My heart is awoken by the darkness of the night
I slumber through this empty house
For I carry in me a heavy heart
I light a candle, then a few
The movie of my past now flashes before my eyes
I stare at the empty walls, where pictures once hung
I hear the ghostly voices of lovers past
I hear the silence of dreams escaped
A sad faced mime touches my shoulder
Whispers of I feel your pain drift out the open window
Alone
In the dark of the night