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On Writing And Words Dark Poems | On Writing And Words Poems About Dark

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Details | Free verse |

Writing Letters is a Dying Art

Dear Sir:
I realize you’ve been busy, so I’m sending a  letter of distress
Postmarked today, addressing my quality of living
Since the last time we told our life stories
Sewed the seams between our broken dreams and 
Seen the world through the eyes of the needle
Tiny and volitional

Since our foggy self-destruction,
Misplaced priorities and miscommunication
On every lonely person’s face, I see my own
Reflected in the spaces between our parallel lines
That should be meeting at Infinity

Please send me a post card when you get there
I want to know what Love looks like

I keep 
Doin’ and doin’ and doin’ my thang
Stacking up that green and 
Piling on the makeup between each scene
Stealing hearts and pulverizing them with each time
I blink
You know…
All those honest ways of making a living

Collapse into bed every night only to close my eyes
And be haunted by dark thoughts of you
Urgently and Daftly my pen 
Spills raven-hued rivers of devotion
Onto this piece of paper
Hoping to soak into you

Dear Sir, 
To get to the heart of my request

Open the ocean to me
The dark sea of your deceit
Drown me deeply in your lies and suffocate me with your
Transparent desperate pleas

Dear Sir, cure me of this loneliness
Charge me of suicide and let me crash into you
Kamikaze Lovers

I understand the risk
I'll take my chances
Openly armed and ready for the world
In those intense brown eyes

Stopping my breath and caving in
To see the world so clearly again

Awaiting your response to my confessions


Copyright © Bella Cardenas | Year Posted 2008

Details | Dramatic monologue |

A Dark Fairy-tale

A Dark Fairytale

As I was chained, I breathe in.
As I was burned, I breathe out.
As I was cut, I looked down.
As I was broken, I looked up.
As I was destroyed, I closed away.
I had killed myself damaging beyond any repair.
To keep myself closed I chain, cut, burned, and destroyed what was within me, isolation my fear around me. But suddenly as I had nearly been kindled to a shivering light, something braver and stronger then I appeared and took me and held me and once again I was fixed and this is what happened; 
Suddenly I breathed in as I was unchained.
Suddenly I breathed out as my burns disappeared.
Suddenly I looked up as my broken body mended.
Suddenly I looked down as my cuts faded.
Suddenly I was opened up and my destruction was nothing more then a dream
As my knight, you entered that shadow and held me now I grow with a unprofaned radiance.
I was held once more, and my soul emerged.
I was spoken to once more, and my mind went blank.
I was kissed and my body reacted without a second hesitation.
And before I could run away once more, I was trapped.
Unlike my prison I lived in a fairytale, in were I don’t want to live this place anytime soon. What happened then and what happening now are so fair apart it hilarious.
 I’ve forgiven the past, not forgotten it. Prove never to make the same mistakes or else be locked back inside that tower I call my mind. 
Let me in brave knight, into your mysterious ways.
Let me in brave knight let me have secret passages into that world of yours. 
Let me in brave knight so I can truly capture you. 
I was as cold as ice even more then winters hail, but you with a ridged past that icier then I could have imagined is as warm as the summer sun and sweet like spring air.
For saving me, for taking my heart, for releasing me, I’ll become everything you want and then more, I’ll stand by your side and hold you like you held me and I shall be everything you need.
My sweet Knight.

Copyright © Marcedies Rhodes | Year Posted 2013

Details | Lyric |

Amidst Celestial Dark

Billy my brother drifts on a plain
In my mind I still feel his hurting pain
I still see you Billy, seeing me cry
Dad it looks like Billy, he's saying goodbye

He tell me of places that no one has seen
Amidst the celestial dark amongst it's diamond screen
Where no one can sail against the luff
I still see you Billy, why has life been so tough

Billy my brother what would I see
Smiles on our faces once again when we are annealed
Still inside I cry and the reasons why
Billy your gone now, but your so nearby

Billy my brother what would I see
Smiles on our faces once again when we are annealed
Still inside I cry and the reasons why
Billy your gone now, but your so nearby

Billy my brother drifts on a plain
In my mind I still feel his hurting pain
I still see you Billy, seeing me cry
Dad it looks like Billy, he's saying goodbye
Dad he's looking down, there's tears in his eyes

My entry for John Heck's 'Dear John' contest with 'Daniel'
               written by Elton John & Bernie Taupin

Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2011

Details | Rhyme |

Misfit - Updated

They say I'm, sick twisted and materialistic
They fear the metaphors, because I spit 'em sadistic
Cause I'm a misfit, and shattering rhymes is my intent
Good thing my flows on lock, so I can put out the fire when it's lit

I hear the beat, and it's straight to letting out rhymes
I'll paint the picture, in no time, and still stay inside the lines
With no emotion, I'll show emotion, like a black and white mime
Like watching a silent movie, there's no words, but you understand it fine

Visions come quick, then split, imaginations run wild
Stand on patio and landscape it with words, and watch it grow a mile
Cause behind my smile, is a million unheard words
Open the gate and watch migration, releasing metaphors in herds

Imagine a verse with no beat, or a nation with no power
Watch me spit out sick rhymes, cause the way they tasted was sour
I'll nudge boulders and tip them, because my words are nothing but power
Then realize that the bolder was a pebble, it just got bigger as my words got louder

He's a Misfit, judging by the way that he sounds,
You can tell he was enhanced, there's no one like this boy around
He's a Misfit, bring 'em all in, we're taking him down,
To the ground, if not then fame is where he's bound

Hypnotic illusions, giving minorities brain enfusions
Genocidal thoughts alligned with the pain and confusion
Winning and losing, tying a dying, hitting or skippin,
Light a metaphorical match and watch the world call me forgiven

This is Armagedden, forgot the wars forget the peace,
Forget the metaphors, forget wearing a Jesus piece,
Forget the mainstream, and forget the underground,
None one of this will be around, there's a new sheriff in town

And he's, untamed, living metaphorically insane
Try him and engage in getting hit by an invincible verbal train, 
It's not a game, but get ready to lose, get ready for the pain
Unleash the beast, and let you're letting out something more than a name

Lost in his mind, he's lost in a void, lost in his time,
Opens his eyes, and see's all colors, yet nothing but white
He's learned to rhyme, so into a human's whom we'll send him
Watch all the broken lives, come together and ammend him
He's a Misfit

Copyright © Aaron Guttery | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dramatic monologue |

Inferno Negro

the negro is inferno. doomed for hell. sinful with lost indulging in their own ignorance. made into a reincarnation of the devils wishes. the devils wants the devils needs. they say the pigment is the reason. but i say Jesus is the reason for the devilish seasons excuse my blatant response to the evils that have been done in the name of the SON. the inferno negro is the movie of this country, always watched and critic-ed. you must understand that self hating is very wicced, misunderstood when you walk through a suburban neighboorhood the devil is screaming conform!! conformm!! inferno negro you dont belong so just get along, even if the devil knows. the devil knows your story and your weakness and he lives behind and inside the so called supremacy system we live within. peace inferno negro know thyself for you are so lost in this Babylonia hell.

Copyright © KingWata XX | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |

The Dark Poet

He sits and watches patiently
Craving some emotion
To drive his mind to find some words and
Put his thoughts in motion

So sick and tired of pretty verse
Of butterflies and flowers
Those lovely poets he must destroy 
Tear down their ivory towers

His gruesome game continues
For he is not alone
He shifts a little closer 
To hear his victim moan

His inspiration gathers
As their life begins to ebb
Now he's looking for another
To tangle in his web

The Dark Poet 
Competition entry
(Honourable Mention)

Copyright © Nick Bagnall | Year Posted 2010

Details | Rhyme |


A Dark Identity

Days into nights... time without time
Normalities of everyday life beckons to remain
Shadows with lights.... to find to define
I am he who goes by without a name

The world is only up to date
And I’ve decided no more to follow
Bearing time to finally relate
Yet a self I’m to find to wallow

He who walks without an identity... walks alone
And he who walks alone needs be proud
Yet walking forever without finding a home
Have I that heaven beyond the clouds?

I cannot see either far or near
I cannot be to be neither nor
I’m listening... I cannot hear
I’m at peace... I’m at war

I did not know... am I suppose to?
I know I’m alive... is that enough?
Yet, rather not to know than knew
For knowledge shall never last

A mystery if not yet to be
That one mysterious hope to be searching for
I have dreams but what did I see?
I have no one... not one I can call

A darken need shall heed not words
For the dark shall rise as light
The fade will be a promise to be heard
For shadows are without night

And I started to listen distractedly
Hearing for what my eyes cannot see
A hallucinatory moment ever constantly
As I began to believe that of what cannot be

The instant my eyes close
My mind drew as suppose
Sketching a stand alone amid a world once seen
Of ranging fires to have had believed as a dream
And there I was... a lone figure enveloped in darkness
With crossing flames alight yet from a distance as useless
Left as I was before... I am to return as I am
Reliving once more this beginning with never the end
Thus did I continue my path away from the bloodshed
Carefully as one had hoped where a darker darkness be led
No more do I wonder what transported me here
To only know for certain I am riddled of constant fear

“Fear is a fire
To temper courage and resolve
Be it desire
To quench the thirst for one’s unfounded lost”

And there it was... words barely a whisper
Where it came from... no longer matters
For the intended vigor were already cast upon
Serving me with renewed purpose for a sense to belong
Before long, beyond doubts... my callings were clear
The source from where it first began was indeed here
Almost startled, I looked around knowing I’m blinded to see
Too dark as it was, had it not been a lighted green to be
And there it was... a single light beyond the almighty dark
That one greenish light to aid one’s lonesome heart
Rather peculiar for I haven’t notice it before
And naturally I am to walk towards the green grandeur
Flickering and wavy as I drew closer to my destination
Seeing finally for what appears to be the least of expectations
Astonishingly, it was a lantern where within was the sighted fire
And simply the fiery green alone ignites ever on in dire
Levitated in midair, it stands rigid with its haunting presence
With an aura more deserving then welcoming of essence
So mesmerized I was... I wanted to behold
That of warmth for perhaps deliverance from cold
A dare if not, if only, if I must
A flame to embrace, a curiosity to engulf
And surely... I lifted my hand with only a wanting touch
Surely but unknowingly... the flame itself is to parch
Sparkles of green eludes and transcends about
As well an aria, an ancient tune goes aloud
To only see to believe, perhaps my life to perceive
Yet the question being... what did I achieve?
Smoke arises... wavering, quivering, settling...
My time... misgiving, misguiding and misleading
And there he was... rather it be
A human?... isn’t to be I see

“A dark wanderer, perhaps a lone wanderer alone
Regardless... a stranger afar returning home
Have you the teachings bequeath upon you?
From a once being of a knight who knew
For he alone stands unnerve by another
Serving a purpose to hold true forever
The resemblance I see forth leaves me incertitude
Both as mortals... though only he remains in servitude
Yet... my appointment upon you is clear
I am to you drawn as you to me when you hear
Nevertheless, far too long were you of absence
And once more I am in honor to be in your presence
It never is clear what the heavens contrive
For this unsung war... humanities were birth to strive
Every one mortal given birth were forged for war
To ensure the survival of humanities and of peace to befall
For many years this bloodshed wages in dire
Almost as certainly, the spirits of men responsively tire
No more are there ideas nor hopes they are to see
Battling on for pure survival remains what leads them be
Your return however, will perhaps set the tides in our favor
Though I know not the intention, I do not disregard altogether
Do not let the reasons why you have returned cloud your mind
I ask of you rather to remember who you once were to define
The land of The Ancients is never a quest for truth to seek
Purely for good to triumph over evil is the only idea you will need
Prepare yourself well stranger, for good will always be in disguise
Treachery and deception as often will never in itself be a lie
The unforgiving way is still a long one I’m afraid
However well is Heaven to plan... evil as always will await
And until out time will once more cross between us
I assure you... your time in this world will outlast”

Copyright © Joel Lee | Year Posted 2012

Details | Quatrain |

Typical Rainy Day

The firelight glows orange
the sky is a dark grey
just another typical
relaxing rainy day
droplets pitter patter
on the windows glass
the only sound to be heard
as I watch the hours pass
wrapped in cozy blankets 
is how those days are spent
with my poetry before me
you'll find I am content
caught up in my writing
with steaming soup on hand
and wrapped up warm and cozy
those rainy days are grand
the firelight glows orange
the sky is a dark grey
just another typical
relaxing rainy day

Written January 10, 2013
By Morgan Mise

Copyright © Morgan Mise | Year Posted 2013

Details | Epitaph |

Dark Memories

Today I was 
   about the martyred 
Yiddish poets
   Only know a few phrases 
of that language
    but I feel that poets shouldn't 
be shot 
     and if you ask me why 
    It is because they 
are the educators of 
     mankind's feelings
          The only ones 
who keep the 
when shadows cover the 
      minds and souls
                of the pouplace      

Copyright © Matthew Anish | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |

A Poets Cold Dark Heart

Soupers say my pen radiates an icy chill.
My words are able to freeze hell's fiery gates, which gives me such a thrill!
February's cold gusty wind, is no match for my cold hearted pen.
Some poets may not comprehend, but I metamorphosed from my wintry sin!

My stanzas are arctic and raw, nipping at any poet who dares.
I try and leave my reader in awe, with eyes that surprise the coldest stares!
I'm always roaming the icy land, looking for a poet to slay.
With a poetic tribal headband, I dominate with my chilling word play!

Copyright © Jimmy Anderson | Year Posted 2011

Details | Epic |

Sinful Saint

Yeah I walk around life waitng for death/ 
I live in constant despair looking to be blessed/ 
Lies over truth around here always seem to infect/ 
The more sin I get in life the more saintly I seems less/ 
Im trapped in same dark place ;looking for a lighter quest 
I try and live a life full of goodness still trapped in badness I am yet to confess/
 I try and hold onto what seems like something but theres nothing really but family left/
 I know I am not he best, nor am I like the rest/ 
I know I can master checkers but still downed in chess/. 
I got to clean up my act because my life is a mess/ 

I patiently sit back while I ponder life for death and I wait/ 
I might as well look for something simple because I never find nothing great/ 
I struggle to stay under love and over my own hate/ 
I try and be real with others when to my own self I stay fake/ 
I feel life obstacles jolt my ambition like a chain that never breaks/ 
I want less more in life yet as a daily sinner I continue to both physically and mentally take/
 I try and change my dark ways but still struggle at the fact that it might be too late/
 I usaully catch myself complaining when infact I should be thankful for whats on my plate/
 I usually hang onto the past and get scared of the future when I should worry about today/
 I going to be that better man for my child because that sinner no longer in my heart I aint/
 Sometimes in life we all struggle until we strive, but until then Im trapped between a young lost SINFUL SAINT........

Copyright © Travis Lone Hill | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |

Light and Dark

(30/07/2011) Sometimes to choose 'light' is too dark and bitter Therefore 'dark' seems better

Copyright © Dinda Minardi | Year Posted 2011

Details | ABC |

A Glurmy Gleepcious Glorp

I plurm and glorp with every breath
My existence defies and deifies death

I splurp and glomph amongst your days
Indistinguishable from mud and haze
I slig and slorg, a dark breamy blaze
with unctuous vim I sleam through your days
and go about my large gorptious ways

Slimy, I slawl in shades of grey
leaving glossful drippings to mark my way
and make your life gang aft agley
as I spream and slorl in spurious ways
and glurm and gleep with hideous gaze
I sleam and glort in vorptious dark ways

‘Til you come undone
And my sporphing’s won!

My job’s complete – I’ve sprunked your flaze
My job is done, I’ve gronked your days!

Copyright © Rev. Rebecca Guile Hudson | Year Posted 2006

Details | Lyric |

Sin And Poetry

As the night sets in, it's as black as it's ever been.
My soul is in ruin, and my heart is like a back pack carrying a load of sin.

In the closet my skeletons scream, and constantly torment me.
The rage in my blood stream causes me to blaspheme religiously!
I am doomed because I'm so consumed by that very rage;
Engulfs me like burning fire, wraps me like barbed wire that causes a rampage!

The malice in my heart craves the blood from a helpless foe.
I feel I'm being ripped apart like some dark work of Edgar Allen Poe!

So many sins to atone for, and I get on my knees to repent.
Again with my face on the floor, I pray I receive a love that's heaven sent.
The evil is eating me alive from the inside out.
I can't survive when I feel like I'm fighting a 12 round bout!

My greed has come between me and my family.
I just wanted to succeed, but I admit I did it selfishly!

I seduced Lisa knowing she was married to another man, I just didn't care.
As Lisa fell in love, I became her number one fan, and then I ended our love affair!
My conscience wouldn't let me continue on the path of destruction.
I think of the consequence of losing you and laugh because now I'm unable to function.

I now see literally that it is better to lose an eye than your soul.
As I write my sin and poetry, I cry knowing my heart is as black as coal!   

My new form written strictly for Constance's contest "Create your own form maybe" ? is called Stanlets because it consists of couplets and stanzas that rhyme and is a dark subject.
Jimmy Anderson

Copyright © Jimmy Anderson | Year Posted 2010

Details | Rubaiyat |

The Dark Before Dawn

Is it the darkest, before the dawn?
Or could that old adage be all wrong? 
Decided to find out for myself
It’s four AM, I’ll know before long

The almanac says sunrise at six
Camera on tripod, keeps a fix  
It’s aimed right where the sun comes up
Ten minutes between camera clicks

At five forty five, into high gear
First light of day will soon be here
Now take a picture every minute 
Keep it up till the sunup is clear

Now to evaluate what we‘ve got
Develop film in a single lot
We’ll be looking for the darkest black
To be just before the sun’s first dot

Then we discover to our dismay
This experiment has gone astray
No film loaded into the camera
To hell with it, accept the cache

Copyright © Charles Sides | Year Posted 2012

Details | Dramatic Verse |

Do you like my raven eyes

As I walked down the street 
this morning 
I tried to be polite and inconspicuous 
You stare into my eyes; 
My brown eyes speak louder than my 
Husky voice ever will 

What are you looking for? 
Do you liked what you see 
Pain, shame or a sense of connection 
Love, nowhere to be found 
It ruthless, it vanishes, it disappoint 
By now us all know the stories 
Of lost-love, 

It begin with a smile 
A kiss, a warm embrace, 
Then tear and fears 
Do you love the raven in my eyes 
Sorry stranger! 
I paid my tithes, 


I lost my loves 
Caw, caw, caw! 
Do you love the raven in my eyes

Copyright © Annie Lander | Year Posted 2013

Details | Tetractys |

Dark Places To Play

by Michael J Falotico
                                         My steps are slowing.

                                 Sunlight fades as shadows crawl..

                                        Soon covered by night.


                                               to write from

                                        where hidden thoughts

                        dance without being seen while they play free..

just having fun with two forms
an Haiku & Tetractys

Copyright © Michael J. Falotico | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |

The Dark Side

The Dark Side

You want to know my mind
What I am thinking
Can you stand the darkness?
Will the demons scare you?
There are no prayers for hope
God would never tread these lands
What will you say of my twisted reality?
Is it because of drugs or alcohol?
Could it be the way I see life?
I know there is beauty in the world
I have heard so much about it
It’s hiding what you don’t want to see
Take a walk on the other side
See what I see
Dream what I dream
Let the words flow
Tell what you have seen
Take time to write a dark poem
Write of its beauty
Enjoy a world you have never known
Then return to your world
A world of flowers and bunnies
But know that darkness exists
And it is a part of your life

Copyright © R. e. taylor | Year Posted 2012

Details | Quatrain |

From Dark To Black

...inspired by 'Goodnight' by Seamus Heaney

From dark to black they staggered,
felt for familiar surfaces,
they groped, until the lantern flickered,
faint glow resurrecting shadows.

Cold and flaggy, floors uneven,
up and down they skittered
like two drunkards on a binge,
finding legs, orientation.

Gaslight blue-flamed 'neath the kettle,
blanket grabbed, the bed was ransacked,
tea was swallowed gratefully,
with a pinch the lamp gave up the ghost.

From light to black, not even starlight
gave relief to weathered eyes,
huddled 'neath the self-same blanket,
wide-mouthed yawns and muffled sighs.

Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2009

Details | Rhyme |

Monty's Poetic Years

Well Monty drank, smoked, and shot up till his mind was numb
He had to live with his choices and he wanted to forget some
He once said “Anyone can be happy, but those stories have all been heard before,
It’s the tales of troubled days and sinister ways that I write for.
It’s not the story of the loaf of bread, it’s the story of the dropped crumb.
And if you wanna’ be a poet you gotta live in the trenches and you gotta’ be scum.”
Monty raked all of his friends into a pile and let the wind blow them away
Saying if they were meant to stay on the tree, then they would find a way
And before he knew it his addiction raped him bone dry
Food and water was no longer all he needed to the get by
The streets became his home and the gutter became his bed
His hunger couldn't be fed, his words were now shriveled and unread
Monty cut off his toes so they’d fit into the shoe
And picked the pedals off his rose just to watch where they flew
Searching for his lost ghost, following it’s transparent cries
He began to ash his cigarettes into it’s eyes
Monty was in the stages of insanity, and he lost all of his vanity
Death teased him behind every corner, loving the way he begged 
Monty had no feelings anymore, he had no pencil or paper to catch his tears
All he had left inside were his stories of a crumb and his poetic years with scum

Copyright © Rusted Dream | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

From Dark To Black

...inspired by 'Goodnight' by Seamus Heaney

From dark to black they staggered,
felt for familiar surfaces,
they groped, until the lantern flickered,
faint glow resurrecting shadows.

Cold and flaggy, floors uneven,
up and down they skittered
like two drunkards on a binge,
finding legs, orientation.

Gaslight blue-flamed 'neath the kettle,
blanket grabbed, the bed was ransacked,
tea was swallowed gratefully,
with a pinch the lamp gave up the ghost.

From dark to black, not even starlight
gave relief to weathered eyes,
huddled 'neath the self-same blanket,
wide-mouthed yawns and muffled sighs.

Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |

Dark Light

My Heart ; thinking of unreliable things , 
	of things that claw and the 
things that gore.
	Lifting their heads in happy adoration 
to take half thy canvas in.
	Now coming back from the first to last
Night or days o'er 
	everything but sleep in all  thy
pleasures , not that smart, should 
	I feel.
		A gaping space that feedeth 
the blessed. Yes ; or pass quickly 
	into the skies laughing 
w-/ out cause in the night.
	Now clear as glass ; and now Dark

Copyright © George Stal | Year Posted 2011

Details | Rhyme |

Make It Your Own

Sometimes I take material that is not a poem and then I rewrite it and make it my own. Below is a FWD that I once reveived. What follows after is how I turned it to poetry. *
Due to a power outage, only one paramedic responded to the call. The house was very dark so the paramedic asked Kathleen, a 3-yr old girl to hold a flashlight high over her mommy so he could see while he helped deliver the baby. Very diligently, Kathleen did as she was asked. Heidi pushed and pushed and after a little while, Connor was born. The paramedic lifted him by his little feet and spanked him on his bottom. Connor began to cry. The paramedic then thanked Kathleen for her help and asked the wide-eyed 3-yr old what she thought about what she had just witnessed. Kathleen quickly responded, 'He shouldn't have crawled in there in the first place.......spank his butt again!"
* The emergency call reached the paramedic. A baby was about to be born. He could hardly see through his windshield, as he battled the raging storm. A 3 year old girl greeted him at the doorway allowing him to enter her home. She took him by the hand and said, "This way doctor man," and then led him to her Mommy's room. It was a very dark night, so he asked the child to hold his flashlight so he could assist the baby from leaving its mother's womb. He held the baby by its legs and spanked its little bottom. The baby cried and a new life was born. With great concern the paramedic asked the young child, "How do you feel about what you just saw?" "He should have never crawled up there in the first place," she said, "You should spank him again once more."

Copyright © SillyBilly theKidster | Year Posted 2011

Details | ABC |

Words, Master of

This dark light 
A war outbreak
I cannot write 
There is a leak

Inside my mind
A lively death
I cannot find 
The words are Myth

Where are the words
I call them, they hide
Summoning their accord
They bow and abide

Like vipers they strike
My servants, letters
Turn on me and attack
They disable the better 

Oh, how they used to follow
Me the creator, Father
Their leader now hallow
Creates no bother

So now the letters are left
In the ink, a Tomb
The new master, the same man
Is as dark as a bomb

They cry, the letters
Wanting a world, to be fed
To get by, to be better
Not to be in the tomb, Dead

The master cries out at night
For the comfort of the words
A great inner fight
Bitter as gourds

He can’t hold back
He creates a masterpiece
The words flow from his hands
They cannot cease

The Man is reborn
The Master of words
A light on darkness
The letters abide, they bow

Copyright © Dustin Bennefield | Year Posted 2006

Details | Free verse |

dark stage

what do you do
when to one's self you're true
lay down on the guillotine
let them scream off with her head
leaving your soul naked for all to see
under the glare of the red queen
when all who look
only see the dark stage
all the puppets you set
not the woman behind the puppets
not the writer of the page
only the actors chose to act
in the strange little play (c) M.J.Richter

Copyright © michelle richter | Year Posted 2009

Details | Quatrain |

Ode to a Dark Muse

  That evil bloom that blossomed
from your lips,
and grew to sprout ,I love you
up my spine,
those tendrils twining
from your fingertips
into the primal levels of my mind

Your dark creative spirit reaching out,
to pull me in to find my life renewed,
the price to pay is worth the pain I find
to gain a love with power so imbued

my muse ,a lodestar shining through the night,
has fallen to the earth in ashes lost
now in your eyes I see a fearsome light
and I succumb regardless of the cost.

Copyright © Johnette Loefgren | Year Posted 2006

Details | Narrative |

Illyanna's Dark Poetry

I wish people would quit picking on my sister. She is a wonderful writer and I know her
work is dark and creepy but that is who she is. She writes to entertain and to take you
places that make you uncomfortable. If you read her poems and you get the chills she has
done what she set out to do! If it creeps you out to much then when you see the name
Illyanna De La Keur then don't read it. This is a place where we all can demonstrate our
creativity and I would hate for her to remove her work and quit writing. Illyanna is a
writer that is an acquired taste and if not for her and my other sister I would never have
explored my own talent so please lay off on telling her to change her subject matter.

Copyright © Kristy De La Keur Scoveille | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |


Stop the presses roll the presses stop the presses roll the presses stop the 
presses roll the presses stop the presses roll the presses man is just a 
murdered victum just an ad campaign gone wild just a circumstantial incidental 
mark in time a blood red smear in some dark alley way a thing to be uncovered 
and then covered over in the dark but wait it has not happened yet a man is 
moving in his day a man is writing all eye say he is still typing on his keyboard 
and watching all the words making sure this time that the spell check is on he is 
undercover of the day light and the darkness flees away he is me and he is eye a 
poet and a birthright an occidental gentleman turning time back into usage of 
forgiveness and some privileges. It is just a poem after all they say who reads it 
anyway who has the time who has the time to learn the way of GOD. In Peace a 
Poet is the one. I am only a statistic after all.

Copyright © charles hice | Year Posted 2007

Details | I do not know? |

Dark Divide

A nightmare wind blows hot and furiously,
  dispersing distant clouds, and with them, hope's glee.
The Sun's glory sets slowly and indifferent,
  ignorant of it's power, bloodily sent.
Night encroaches, as it's purple, bruised sky
  re-invents itself; deceives the human eye.
         The wind dies;
         The light fails;
         Night comes alive.
Darkness takes form in and about the forest;
  spread wings for secret mythology's dearest.
Village's residents remain shut indoors,
  ignoring the Night; fear falls 'tween cracks on floors.
Outside's threat looms; sounds, smells, tastes, sights unseen.
  Moon's no aid; it's device, a mystery scheme.
         Howling heard;
         Stench of rot;
         Almonds in mouth.
In a grey room, well-lit, yet, ever silent,
  a young man stands, blind gaze awaits his torment.
The woods, enshrouded, whisper lies without words;
  hidden horror's absent shine, like eyes of blackbirds.
Movement, black against black; he calls out, "Evil!",
  he flinches, then steps back, his skin become chill.
         The moon fades;
         The stars blink;
         Air's burden, thick.
He turns away to rub burning in his eyes;
  snaps the light off and finds himself amongst Dark's lies.
Alone to twist then turn, feels Night's foul glower;
  heart pumping, eyes clenched, rustling sounds, burnt odour,
Coppery taste of blood, darkness darkening.
  "Save yourself, serve yourself!",Night's voice, harkening.
         Window cracks;
         Cruel claws grasp;
         "Young man must die!".
Quick burst of robin chirps, earthy smell cleanses,
  clean taste of a cool breeze invades his senses.
Forcing eyes open, young man sees Sun's gold tears;
  morning's erupted, washing away old fears.
He wakes in the woods, memory's pawn no more,
  all shall witness him; author of his own lore.
         Night recedes;
         Light's greeted;
         hope can now surge.
Brilliant radiance past a distant peak,
  revealing shadows and reviving the meek.
Night's lessons to villagers behind blinds;
  they must step outside to leave false light behind.
Just as the Sun, people must daily travel;
  the Night broods, awaits each Day to unravel.

Copyright © Ryan McCabe | Year Posted 2005

Details | I do not know? |

Poetry in the Dark

Scribbling during flashes
Waiting for the light
Anticipating the questions
Trying to make it right

You want to know my process
And what I mean to say
I’d rather not reveal this
My shining in the gray

Illuminated shadows
I’ll tell you what I see
As for my sordid process
That’s best left up to me

Copyright © Jenelle Spaulding | Year Posted 2005