Poetry Forum Areas

Introduce Yourself

New to PoetrySoup? Introduce yourself here. Tell us something about yourself.

Looking for a Poem

Can't find a poem you've read before? Looking for a poem for a special person or an occasion? Ask other member for help.

Writing Poetry

Ways to improve your poetry. Post your techniques, tips, and creative ideas how to write better.

High Critique

For poets who want unrestricted constructive criticism. This is NOT a vanity workshop. If you do not want your poem seriously critiqued, do not post here. Constructive criticism only. PLEASE Only Post One Poem a Day!!!

How do I...?

Ask PoetrySoup Members how to do something or find something on PoetrySoup.

Evil Nostalgia Poems | Evil Poems About Nostalgia

These Evil Nostalgia poems are examples of Evil poems about Nostalgia. These are the best examples of Evil Nostalgia poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Rhyme |

Living Without

I tried to write about love but I haven’t felt it. 
I tried to write about the sea but I’ve never seen it. 
Then I tried to write about the air, but I have never breathed it. 
I tried to write about magic but I never believed it.
I couldn’t write about god, all I have ever done is sinned.
And when I tried to write about life I found, 
I have never really lived.

Copyright © Ag Ki | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dramatic Verse |

Emotional Hole

I did not find myself to be so important
So I ask my friends do I seem distant?
When I ask the question I had received an answer, Yes
So I think that made it clear that I had been not the best
I am a friend of a friend that talks so many things
That friend talks to much it is insane and insanity it brings
I do care, about my friends they are all good people
They tend to stand on their high steeple 
Today I find myself not so aware
Disbanding my fear of regret and care
Walking many different paths I see that I have found holes
It is the path that people choose to use to fuel their rage with coals
Coals are partially burnt wood or fossils a piece of fuel
It is the source of burden and fire a rage of emotions that stands cruel
It can be warm and caring, but it also can be baring
I just start to feel so low, below the ground I keep on staring
I reach for my friends so many times I feel so ignorant at times
Just once I feel I should not rely on them when feeling I can not find 
I dig my hole deeper and I can not climb out
For some reason I am just full of doubt
I care about so many things and what I have is confusion
One person should be all I should think about to get out of that illusion
My battle in my heart and mind is not at all so pleasant
I feel so alone in an island that is shaped like a crescent
My emotions is like coinciding with a diameter of the semicircle
Not a full emotion that is complete like a circle
My feelings is circular full of incomplete thoughts, so much deeper
I feel it will wake up my evil half a evil soul that is a sleeper
What question should I ask myself? to believe that I am not so alone
As I feel like a person who is deteriorating to the bone
I ask my friends the same question once again
I figure I should do it, to know what kind of feelings I should end
So many thoughts that come out of my feeling
I feel like my friends take, an emotional trauma of stealing
They ask me questions and I answer theirs
But when I need mine answered I feel burning inside like a flare
Are they even friends when they do not take me serious in anyway
Just put me in my hole cause I feel nothing in their will be getting in my way
It's just so simple to answer someones problem
I answer friends with beauty of a rose, but when they answer mine I get the stem
I know the stem is very important in life, with out it how can a rose be a rose
With a hole to put the root and stem in how can it grow
The words we speak I guess is like all natural things we reap and sow

Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |

Curse of a Princess

and butterflies,
in this story,
we begin with lies,
we never kept,
I should have held on tighter,
when you wept,
small mistakes,
on both our parts,
added up,
to shred our hearts,
creeping shadows,
behind the flowers,
in what we thought,
were our finest hours,
talking grass,
crystal snow,
in our lie of love,
a hidden foe,
the evil witch,
her claws aimed to kill,
t'was she who pushed you,
down the hill,
a broken crown,
a forgotten well,
to live without you,
was her spell,
an evil curse,
she cast in spite,
although we loved, 
with all our might,
kept apart,
by what was said,
in regret,
our hearts bled,
watch from afar,
speak in vein,
a curse taken course,
inflicted pain,
and so it began,
with love and lies,
our fairytale ends,
and we both die...

Copyright © Maridean Willimson | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |

When Looking in to the Eyes of an Angel

What beauty in this angel's eyes?
A single glance is all it takes
To capture the heart and soul of a thousand men,
And mine have been ensnared a thousand times or more.
One look, I fell,
And still I fall.
Endless and infinite depth,
These are no mortal eyes.
So dark, so deep,
Yet illuminated from no earthly place.
There are no words that can be used
By this poor mortal fool,
To express the beauty and the sense
That is conveyed by just one glance
In to an angel's soul.
She claims there is evil within these darkest orbs,
But I say, no, my love,
In truth I'm sure there is no room for evil to reside.
For each night, I saw God in your eyes.

Copyright © Simon Cartlidge | Year Posted 2006

Details | Free verse |

Ah Vegas

Ah Vegas
You call me now
In ways no longer reserved
For asylum jingles or perverse tours of duty
Those missions have been won
Decorated in myth
Perpetuated by views and cues
As wartorn players revel
In memories
Gaunt from melted time
Quantum distance
And duty laden with mirth-like urgency
Oh Vegas
You're still my girl
Always fond of freedom's sweets
You lavishly pour my way
I still promenade with the throngs
The cousins you deliver upon arrival
All in tandem, synced in mood
Joy tendered from precious metals
Imported by the river's greedy decree
Flowing in by buckets
Trickling out by accidental drops
Leaked from diseased spittoons
I watch this
Through eyes singed by hemlock's past
Through windows sealed by labor's virtue
Balance, I conclude
Has been achieved
As past wickedness
Forced hands 
Grips firmly in rhythm
The beat remains yet modulates
To soulful prancing and mitigated madness
Since these glowing tapestries
These ardent vats adorned
By Satan's grotto
No longer sting of zest and legend
Which endure through
Dust, illusion and amplified pride
Meant to inspire the next of kin
The bonus babies
Destined to sketch
The next chapters of glee gone awry.


Copyright © Suburban Lovechild | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |

Sir Robin Of Loxely

Outlaw Robin Hood, and his band of men 
Hidden in Sherwood Forest, they had a large den 
His deeds were known all over the county 
On his head there was a large bounty 
They were feared by the bad, and evil 
Loved by the good, honest, and feeble 

The Sheriff of Nottingham, was an evil man 
He taxed the people for all he can 
He knew Robin, robbed the rich for all he could 
And gave back to the poor as they knew he would 
In local inns, posters could be found 
'Dead or Alive', and you will be crowned 

The Sheriff had an ally, King John, self made 
Who's brother King Richard, was on a crusade 
Had bold and brave men fighting on behalf of his aid 
The Sheriff's men they always tried to evade 
Robin Hood's men, were strong and brave 
Making friends of the people who's families they saved 

On return to his home land, from his grueling crusade 
Discovered the true intentions, in the way Robin, behaved 
So off to Nottingham, to pardon Robin, and his men 
King Richard, back on the throne content and pleased 
Maid Marian, to Robin, her hand was bequeathed 
Now 'Sir Robin', of Loxely', was given his land, title and deeds 	 

Copyright © Jill Pennell | Year Posted 2005

Details | Free verse |

Good, Evil, Rage: Me

Six AM is
NOT a 
The ( waking ) hours
Roll over and press then
Panic Switch
(In your
                  pants and
Flyaway bangs
And nosebleeds)
A  death
Upon the sunRISE

"Good, Evil, Rage: Me"
Jenna-Nichole Conrad

Copyright © Jenna-Nichole Conrad | Year Posted 2012