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.



You have an ad blocker! We understand, but...

PoetrySoup is a small privately owned website. Our means of support comes from advertising revenue. We want to keep PoetrySoup alive, make it better, and keep it free. Please support us by disabling your ad blocker on PoetrySoup. See how to enable ads while keeping your ad blocker active. Also, did you know you can become a PoetrySoup Lifetime Premium Member and block ads forever...while getting many more great features. Take a look! Thank you!
Get Your Premium Membership


Best Dark Poems

Below are the all-time best Dark poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of dark poems written by PoetrySoup members

Search for Dark poems, articles about Dark poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Dark poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See Also:

Poems are below...


New Dark Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Dark poems are below this new poems list.

Deep Dark Blue by Totten, Dale
every dark night by sharma, anurag
Dark Clouds by Onaf, Olumuyiwa
As The Dark Fades Away by Asuncion, Bernard F.
As The Dark Departs From You by Asuncion, Bernard F.
dark world by sharma, anurag
ITS ALL A MATTER OF DARK by Lee Sr., James Edward
Dark Victories by French, Jonathan
The Dark Secret by Violet, Alissa
QUEEN OF DARK SHE IS by DEVI, DEVALEKSHMI

View all new Dark Poems

The Best Dark Poems

 
Details | Dark Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Alice Sweet Alice

      ~Alice Sweet Alice~

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


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

The way she looks 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 enjoys 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!
She whispered the day I fell off my bike
Alice Sweet Alice loves the way I look in red!

Every day I face the mirror
Alice puts 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 screams!
Again, Alice, whispers--- "Kill Them All!"
No one ever said a word,
When she stood by my side
Alice knew me in ways no one else did
She knew my eyes -When they cried!

Now I can't sleep,
Since, Alice has fallen back into the abyss
Forever conscious in a self-hug
--- this is no dream, it is real!

The rage inside, burns.
It took place the day she left!
Burning curtains 
Empty mirrors
This Girl Named Alice spoke of darkness,
then disappeared 

When I hear the sound of pouring rain
I stare at the shadows on the wall
Nothing feels the same,
I allow myself to soak in a darkness where it began.

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, I sleep

ALICE SWEET ALICE! 
Please call my name!
Why do they whisper?
Why are they saying she never held a breath?
I know she is real, she's exist
Why else would I let her cut my wrist?

This Sweet Girl 
"I YELL FOR ALICE!"
Finally, visits again ---
But, who is to believe?
For everyone says 
Alice lives inside my head.

By:)


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dark Poem | Create an image from this 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. Written in Swap Quatrain Form with iambic tetrameter. In this form, created by Lorraine M. Kanter, each stanza in the poem must be a quatrain (four lines) where the first line is reversed in the fourth line. Rhyming pattern: aabb, ccdd and so on


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dark Poem | Create an image from this poem.

I Wore Your Skin

~I wore your skin~

Brother, I wore your skin last night
Nothing but friction, blood -dry ink
Announcing a crush "Silence by the Sky!"
Integrity denied, endangered enemy

Brother, I wore your skin last night, swollen ankles
  imagery galore, vomit on the lavatory floor
A clown bleeding red, feeding lies to those he rapes
Blades of need, captain catamite chasing a pup
Who can't resist the heat, when fenced
Brother, I wore your skin last night,
White, green and tight, devouring the light 
Mitten wool on your bottom draw
Lipstick waiting to kiss immediate sin
In search of keeping things close to kin
Brother I wore and tore your skin right off
Gross in every demonic way, 
Acrobats all over the home
Docile immunity, lurking with a bomb threat 

Sister, I wore your skin last night
Vanity of nothingness nutted blasphemy
Evil lurking, wanting to undress thee
Comparing notes, breaking bad company

Sister, I wore your skin last night, swollen lips
  scumbag hag, with nowhere to go
Immortal lies weaken by love
Revealing nothing more than her true self
A wraith with no heart, no goal
Sister, I wore your skin last night
Repeating, bleeding, nail biting
Greasy and powerful, needy and greedy
Aching and whining for not placing
Her head lower than shame holding a high
Sister I wore and swore to never put on your skin again
The nasty feeling, of pretending loyalty, is passion
To hate all those who don't fit your skin
A vulture preying sending encrypted messages

By: PD


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015

Details | Dark Poem | Create an image from this poem.

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~


Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dark Poem | Create an image from this poem.

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 born 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 to 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 forevermore
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 is 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, silent and old
Alliterating poems, greeting every dark shadow, normally yours
Many nights I waited, long for the moment of my OWN return
Instead, I found myself alone
Trying to dust off yesterday's verse, yesterday's dirt
Cobweb remains 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! 
Isolated to the world
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


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014

Details | Dark Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Her Masterpiece Is Her Story

Her paintbrush is a razor,
Her canvas, her wrists,
"I deserve the pain."
She shrugs and insists.

One day the brush will push down,
And it will cut so deep,
That this girl will fall
into an eternal sleep.

She doesn't remember how she started
What brought her interest to this,
How do you discover,
that cutting is your form of bliss?

No one would have guessed that she does it.
No one would have considered this one.
This girl is forever fighting a battle,
that she thinks the demons have won.

Her artwork is all over her,
Her beauty is on her thighs,
and if you look in her old trash,
you'll find her letters of goodbye.

Her masterpiece is quite disturbing,
Her masterpiece is a little gory,
Her artwork is her escape.
Let me tell you her story.

She compares herself to every person,
She is compared to each girl.
She thinks she's hideous,
And there's this boy that is her world.

She was bullied and picked on,
She was teased from head to toe,
Hard to believe that her best friend,
was her one and only foe.

Then later she disliked every little thing,
Her body, face and even her mind,
Soon she saw she was a failure,
and it was just in due time...

That this girl couldn't take it anymore
She'd decided she was done living this,
So one day she went home
and decided to end it.

Everyday for multiple days,
This girl would try to drown,
Hard to believe this girl at school,
never ever wore a frown.

Sometimes she'd just fall asleep crying,
Praying that she'd be enough,
Because she didn't want to leave her family.
She knew about their sweet love.

This girl found hope in small things eventually,
She soon would see this beautiful light,
and find a REAL best friend,
that helped her put up a fight.

Her masterpiece soon was leaving,
Her artwork was almost faded,
and it gave her a sick feeling,
the feeling of being jaded.

She found a boy that actually loved her,
And showed her love exists,
And this boy too had a masterpiece,
placed close to his wrists.

He related to her and she related to him.
She kissed his artwork and said he's not alone,
When she cut herself it hurt him,
Her masterpiece now wasn't just her own.

Her masterpiece effected others,
Her artwork wasn't just for herself,
She now had people, 
who saw her cries for help.

And then her family found out,
So then they saw the art too,
to them they were just scars,
To her they were the truth.

She's trying to be okay now,
She thinks she might survive,
Even though they didn't think
to take away the knives.



Copyright © Madison Marie | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dark Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Secret of the Mortician

The Secret of the Mortician

Dead, but I got eyes
Prepares my body at the morgue
Opens the chest
Drains the blood from its nudity
Admires my body before it decays

After The process of embalming
His hands run all over
I'm still dead
He's satisfied

The next day 
Writes an outstanding obituary 
I sit on display

~SKAT~


Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2015

Details | Dark Poem | Create an image from this poem.

There is still beauty

Listen to poem:
Friends, do not forget: there is still beauty
When the darkness comes and shadows fall,
Music, Art, and nature, gentle comforts
When despair is deep and hope is small.

Friends, do not forget: there is still laughter
When we’ve finished choking down our tears,
When the world seems full of desolation
And we grit our teeth and face our fears.

Friends, do not forget: they have not taken
Kindness, love and friendship from our hearts.
If we can resist the hate and anger,
Maybe we can be where healing starts.

We will rise again tomorrow morning,
Sunshine follows even darkest night.
Think of this when you feel close to breaking
As we walk the long road to the light.

November 2016



Copyright © Agnes Krampe | Year Posted 2016

Details | Dark Poem | Create an image from this 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.


Copyright © elizabeth wesley | Year Posted 2012

Details | Dark Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Me on the inside

I am the gritty grain of the same refrain.
Raw, and dying on the inside, I'm plain.
I am salt infested tears waiting to run,
break the damn and the darkness I become.
I'm just your ordinary angst waiting for a cue,
to break point and bleed ink all over you.
I am the shadows in a pitch black room.
I am decomposition in a poetic tomb.
Nothing matters when with every breath I die,
I am an angel forgotten without the wings to fly.
Self stabbing prophecies, I am suicide,
Weeping roses and promises, in the open I hide.
I am more misery than I've ever wanted to show,
And I understand when you turn away and go.
I am the gritty grain of the same old verse,
I leave my memory in an iambic metered hearse.


Copyright © Casarah Nance | Year Posted 2016

Details | Dark Poem | Create an image from this poem.

JEALOUSY

~It's Out There~

Green colored field 
A flower without the sun 
Wilts from distrust 
now washed away 
by the man storm

~*~


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015

Details | Dark Poem | Create an image from this 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


Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dark Poem | Create an image from this 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~


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dark Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Bleeding Love

Introducing: Jan Allison & Poet Destroyer

Pierced by shards of shattered glass 
Deeper and deeper you stab me 
With lies and venomous words 
Dissecting my heart piece by piece 
Crushed like the petals of a withered rose 
I’m dying … 
Scarlet blood seeps into my very soul 
    Drip 
       Drip 
          Drip 
Into pieces and a bloody mess 
I sacrificed secrets; 
Secrets you tore and tore, 
Gracing a fake friendship, 
Trust tossed like a sweaty towel 
Now karma a poisonous snake 
You plea ... 
To be on death row, decomposing 
Dripping into the night -- Silently 
fading and fading 
Stung by my viper lips, 
     smiling 
        grinning 
           laughing 
Until you are no more


~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015

Details | Dark Poem | Create an image from this poem.

In The Flesh

Introducing: Casarah Nance & Poet Destroyer

Scars of empty promises are darkened by your kiss.
Torturous touches are meant to soothe my pain.
It is without gain, without pleasure, beyond measure,
You are the puppet master, strung on dark days, a haze.
Specter of solitude, you confine me with your magnitude,
What purpose do I serve, is slavery what I deserve?
Tell me your intention, sate me with your perfection.
Shed a light into this soul starved sanctuary,
Come, whisper your words in my ear, complete me…

       A sweet surrender to your call, a will of solitude
       I lead the way, cutting strings attached to the light
       Touching every breathing strand stressing yesterday
       Giving you room to fall into my designated despair,
       Adding, to your creeping gloom, I give and lend pouring pain,
       the kind of pain, that begs for blades
       Abhorring the taste of life, your flesh empowers my darkness
       My intentions are nothing more, than a shadow bearing strength,
       Smiling at your tears, caressing your lips,
       Taking from the closure your soul seeks tonight
       Blind! You will become to the misery, in this barren place
       The pain of rigor mortise will blend against your pale skin
       A slave without shackles,
       I concur with pleasure to feed the hunger, you give
       Forever, I am DARKNESS

~A Poet Destroyer collaboration~



Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015

Details | Dark Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Nightmares and Razor Blades

I stare at my ceiling,
I start to wonder, why am I not healing?
Then it dawns on me,
The nightmare clip starts to roll.
I shake and shiver and wince at every little thing.
I'm scared to death, 
What does this all mean?
I start to cry,
I feel as if I might die.
Then I grab my blade, 
The tears come quicker.
My breath starts to quicken,
My grip on the blade makes my knuckles turn white.
In the mirror is where I see that my ivory skin is now blotchy and red.
I tell myself, "This may be the last time, if you finally cut deep enough."
So I try my best not to make a sound 
As I sit up in bed and hold my wrist out in front of me. 
I count to three,
One, 
I put the blade to my wrist.
Two,
I start to add pressure.
Three,
I yank the blade across my skin,
It pierces and then I start to bleed.
I suddenly want it to stop, 
But there's no going back now. 
I wonder why it came to this,
I know nobody cares about me,
I know nobody is going to forget me.
Quietly I say, "I'm sorry."
But nobody is there,
No one will ever be.
I start to fade out of this world,
My addiction would finally be gone,
And so would I.
I was lost, 
Lost and angry. 
Suddenly, it was gone,
I woke up screaming.
The pain was oh-so real.


Copyright © Mackenzie Lakin | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dark Poem | Create an image from this poem.

- Trapped In The Past -





Escape from a world of unhappiness and sorrow
Days and weeks pass and I realize that I despise this cold hole

Let me be ...

Trapped not only within those four dark walls,
but with the elements in time and place

Let me be ...

Tears that makes you feel completely empty and useless plastic
Stop thinking, collaborating with false emotion

Let me be ...

When will you understand, you do not own my thoughts
I know I should be strong, but it is so painful

Let me be ...

Slowly draining my throat, I scream for water and air
While the morning sun lazily crawling along the purple river

Let me be here forever ...














13.03.2017
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
(unrhymed couplets)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved


Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2017

Details | Dark Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Poetry in Poetry a Duet of Lonely Blues

Poetry

Is not the poem
Is not the poet

Is the observations
Is the emotions

Is the diversity. entwined
Opposing views always sought

Is the love
Is the hate

Is the sadness
Of losing to fate

Is the laughter
Of a child’s dreams

Is the love
That is sometimes unseen

Except by the poet
Who in his lonely sadness sees

The beauty of all
That surrounds the depression in he



In Poetry

I died
Long ago

My heart something broke
I became cold

I cried
For childhood days gone by

I died
A million ways

Now I write
From down below

Where darkness is the sea
That I sail in eternity

Of in the distance
I heard the notes of a symphony

So now as I sleep
A thousand deaths

I hope
For that one musical note

To wake me up
Heart and soul


Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015

Details | Dark Poem | Create an image from this poem.

THE DEEPEST DEPTHS OF EPIC PAIN

THE DEEPEST DEPTHS OF EPIC PAIN

The scars of life unveil the weight of lies,
lest it be the torment of moral sin,
wherein the guiltless suffer wounds and cries
of love’s deceit as heartless notions win.

The evil whims of wicked fancy shows
no mercy for those crossed by hands of fate
when magic dreams are cast by darkened clouds
which turns the morbid sorrow into hate.

In rage of fervor, passions zeal is lost, 
oft destroyed by life's dire tribulations,
as sunning rays vacates dawn's gleaming frost 
human frailties blind truth's revelations. 

Within hope destroyed and life's darkest stain 
remains the deepest depths of epic pain.

14th March, 2017
T.J Grén & Robert Lindley


I was inspired to write this sonnet after reading Robert Lindley’s sonnet “Leave This Sad heart, I Can Take No More Pain” and his notes on the sonnet. Due to the inspiration I received from his beautifully written sonnet, I asked Robert to write this sonnet in collaboration with me. I was much honored to work with Robert to complete this poem. Thank you very much, Robert. It is always a great pleasure to work with you.


Copyright © Teppo Gren | Year Posted 2017

Details | Dark Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Psychedelic Whistle Plays a Rhythm into the Darkness

Psychedelic Whistle Plays a Rhythm into the Darkness

Entering the dark side of a moonbeam on this evil lens of life,
A gruesome old man recreates a murder time and time again, 
As the cold and lonely howling bitterness of the night escapes. 
The psychic contrasts go up in a surreal smoke-filled entirety.
This is not lost to the all-seeing consciousness of the cosmos.

Moaning a malefic agony of selfish needs devours all that’s good, 
Whilst under black leather gloves bleached deadly-white his bones, 
Fill the heart expelled with a legion of grieving spirits—sad and lost.
A maze doth open as Dark Demons are made of rotten plank ridges,
And scraps of empty emotions that maketh them all deliciously evil.

Inside ashes intoxicated with the Hallowed Eve's evil kiss bringeth 
All a Gorgon-like gift so cursed and raised in Lucifer’s own Hellfire. 
Leaveth them to their executioners and wash your own hands clean!
Cain within life's garden dwells as a zombie—a grief-stricken animal,
As a psychedelic whistle plays a rhythm into the darkness of the cosmos.
 
Ebony darkness seduces as a fire burns black ebony removing the flesh. 
Ice-cold tears in anxiety fall, shouting loudly that nobody sees nor hears
The jealous whimpering of jackals needing love with no way to find it. 
There remains emotionless beings who kill passion with a crocodile’s bite.
Fear not the tempting by Lucifer as long as the silver crucifix adorns thee! 
 
Fireflies born in a hellish fury cast in anger the past sins of those doomed, 
Yet they can be "Bearers of an Ancient Light” for things good and noble,
If they can passeth through the veil of evil and darkness into God’s light. 
When the smoke blows away pride there’s no remorse only danger ahead! 
The silence afterwards is deafening to those of holy-pure mortal blood! 

Understanding of reality loses its meaning in this evil realm of darkness,
As an agonising pain is cleared in an eclipse found under “Hate's Trigger.” 
Under a deep crater twilight ghosts rise as “Shadow Beggars of Despair,”
Whilst feeling unholy torment in nerve fibers of a past-life enchantment.
Only Lucifer knows this truth as he collects souls for eternal damnation!

Uncanny conversations are secret and bloody-confused in Hell’s own pit. 
Rising from the ashes unhappy beasts mark the ground with sharp claws, 
As disoriented tongues of envy are struck down by lightning bolts blinded.
Lucifer knows the omnipotence of the psychedelic whistle as it plays its
Rhythm bewitching all lost souls as they enter the darkness of the cosmos!  

Anne-Lise Andresen, Gary Bateman, and Liam McDaid
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
May 5, 2017 (Narrative)


Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2017

Details | Dark Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Among Butterflies Sought


Is This Nature's Glory As a quarry? Alone and at peace A life, a new lease I pull up a piece of land Take a little time to mend This rainforest trembles An open window in shambles Sitting on my own made porch I fire up a configured torch  Then Lay under, should I say What is like a porch light ray And I wait for that one moth Amongst butterflies sought An unwanted reject Like me ready to eject Take me now in this lush With the roar of death; a hush And I will go, amongst this gift Gods Eden unquestioned; my lift My life to stop the bleeding of the land So I protect this marvel, hold her hand Never can't So I chant Let me meld Forest held Me alone a window into the future slightly opened We are all just a moth drawn to a porch light penned  13~11~2014 Sponsor : craig cornish Contest Name : Chopped II ********************************************************* I believe this falls within the 10 to 20 line loose suggestion. This is usually done by the sponsor because it would be difficult to read 35 epic poems and rate them. Because I wanted to create a shape if you count lines as they line up I have more then 20. If I realigned them I would have much less than 20. I believe I stayed within the spirit of the rules. However that is and should be in the hands of the sponsor. I worked very hard towrite this piece for this contest. I loved the process. I have already accomplished everything I wanted to do with this write. I watch the show Chopped all the time.The idea is to be creative with the ingredients. If there is a steak in the basket you better not just cook a steak. The point of the show is using the ingredients creatively never do the obvious. I am happy to have written this piece inspired by the contest. So thank you Craig because I am proud of this write. However below is the ten to twenty line alternative in case you would rather judge it. ********************************************************** Chopped Too - A Rainforest This rainforest trembles An open window in shambles Sitting on my own made porch I fire up a configured torch  Then Lay under, should I say What is like a porch light ray And I wait for that one moth Amongst butterflies sought An unwanted reject Like me ready to eject Take me now in this lush With the roar of death; a hush And I will go, amongst this gift Gods Eden unquestioned; my lift My life to stop the bleeding of the land So I protect this marvel, hold her hand Me alone a window into the future slightly opened We are all just a moth drawn to a porch light penned  13~11~2014 Sponsor : craig cornish Contest Name : Chopped II


Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014

Details | Dark Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Shadows In My Mind

Darkness brings the shadows
Of places I have been
Memories loom in corners
Rattling in the wind
Sometimes whispers haunt me
Never letting go
Race across the star shine
Answers left unknown
Reaching blindly through the night
Someone to hold close
Only to find vapors
Drifting down like tears
Shadows never listen
'Till the morning light
Then I'll follow sunrise
Far into my mind

Then I'll follow sunrise

                          Far into my mind




02/09/13
© All Rights Reserved


Copyright © James Marshall Goff | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dark Poem | Create an image from this poem.

I The Mirror - With A Major Contribution By Joseph May - Dramatic Free Verse

Listen to poem:

an impression of the world
stands before me
Left is right, and right is wrong, 
and the mirror reflects a melancholy song.

i the mirror
not 
the babbling brook,
or
the rippled river
whose images tell harmless lies.

i
the mirror,
who was once held in the 
weak, shivering, hands of a life nearing its end
now lay
on broken, crushed bones, crumbs
and i 
one thousand shards
the cracks
the jaded moments of my life.

i 
an unintended semblance in the raging waters
crashing against the killing rocks of the rushing falls.

never utter the curse
"it can't get any worse"

the serpent swallows the swollen cow,
swallowed - the farmer's wife,
swallowed - her son,
swallowed - the thorny toad,
the black widow spider devours them all!


i the empty frame
the bits and bites of carpenter ants.

my world 
a perverse facade
of
what should of been
of
what 
is
of
what
was

or of
what? WHAT?
less?
i guess.

NEVER utter the curse
"it can't get any worse"

whose voice 
will bring me peace,
whose rapier 
will deliver me,

who will 
burn my body whole
or
dig me a deep hole
or
throw me void of soul

into 

the waters of the screaming ocean 
who herself dies a slow painful death.

Dec 20 2015
armand 
with a major contribution by
Joseph May


Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015

Details | Dark Poem | Create an image from this poem.

SILHOUETTE OF THE NIGHT

Witching hour is upon us Dusky clouds, falling, swirling Obscuring the crescent moon Skeleton fingered branches Beckoning me in the wind As I creep past the grave stones To my final resting place Jan Allison 10th November 2014 Contest: Silhouette of a Heptagonet Sponsor: Nette Onclaud ~awarded 5th place~ Syllable Counter Used - 'How Many Syllables' 7,7,7,7,7,7,7


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2014

Details | Dark Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Old Dark House

The Old Dark House

This tale of “The Old Dark House” is one that’s replete with a
most horrid sense of pure evil and macabre, and is worth being
retold each year during the deep-dark hours of All Hallows’ Eve
before the chime of midnight, when the thin veil separating the
land of the living and the dead momentarily dissolves, bringing
both worlds together until the break of dawn.

Beware of this house’s mythical and ethereal presence in the
shadow dreams of the innocent, and be forewarned to never
conjure its image in your unconscious mind. If so conjured,
The Old Dark House shall become an unending reality to the
innocent and uninformed, and on All Hallows’ Eve, the evil
“Demons of Hell” shall come for your very soul!  

The Old Dark House is one that is bathed and cursed in utter
hellfire and damnation by Lucifer himself. It’s one that creeps a
chill and frozen reminder into the very frame of its nasty, putrid
structure. It shall guarantee you the worst possible nightmares as
your very soul cries in agony and pleads unrelentingly for mercy!

Your nightmares are, in turn, amplified and born into the very
structure of this house with ivy creeping as you palpably sense
the wretched ice-cold fingers of Hell opening the doors to the
cavernous basement were evil shadows of goblins, ghosts,
ghouls, vampires, and werewolves parade openly from past lives.

Everyone suffering the curse of the damned was captured here
when they visited, becoming prisoners to the darkness of true evil,
far away from the light, goodness, and eternal mercy of Almighty
God Himself.

Six generations of my family actually dwelled beneath the rafters
of The Old Dark House where demonic forces were constantly in
play—as hot sparks burned the tongues of lost souls who cried in
agony, and their world would enter the vortex of darkness whilst
blood-curdling screams could be distinctly heard during the night
on All Hallows’ Eve. Ghostly images would appear out of nowhere
supported by the frightening ferocity of Lucifer who is the true dark
presence and ultimate tempter of mankind!

The horror I felt as a young boy trapped in this existence is truly
unimaginable. The image of The Old Dark House still haunts my
adult consciousness, even today, as I would shudder in the cold
night-sweat of sleep to purge its eternal presence from my mind!

Cruel pictures adorn the hell-hole hall of imagination as a gruesome
and unbelievable power underneath wields its vice-grip of hideous
words, whispering in the coldest of ice without the living being able
to breathe in a cloud of mercy and forgiveness, within an ancient
language of evil and evil-doings that twist the shape of words to
suit one’s human fears and cold shivers!

I still don’t understand the full measure of things being lost in this
dark pit of Hell in The Old Dark House. It’s a place that’s devoid
of human meaning and worth as shrunken heads are disembodied!
I hold on to what remains of a past shame, hovering high in the air
as unclean spirits of a crooked vision-circle wander aimlessly as a
Blind Sheppard leads our lost souls to the depressing Dark Land of
Nowhere and Nothingness!

Every October as the full moon rises high in the dark-sky evening,
a ritual fire is set by a local coven of witches to celebrate the advent
of All Hallows’ Eve. These witches know well the power and evil of
The Old Dark House. Their burnt offerings and black magic spells
echo hauntingly as Hell’s own fury is unearthed, challenging all
things virtuous in mankind’s existence and in God’s world of beauty,
hope, kindness, and light.

These evil images of black magic and witchcraft haunted my sleep
entire. I couldn’t sleep at all before dawn. I constantly sense now
an awakening madness in my soul, as if it comes from hidden graves
yet to be uncovered. Images and bad memories of The Old Dark House
push me now toward the opening of unknown tombs. I can actually
now smell Death’s Sulphur-burnt flesh!

Doors begin to rustle behind me as I hear loud footsteps of a pin
echoing deep in my mind. The echo shatters any illusions I have
of human sanity and forgiveness. I feel the sheer horror and begin
suffocating as the stale air is trapped in each breath I take!  

I sit up now—immediately confused, looking directly at a lonely
and empty Black Void that goes on and on and on—to infinity!

Cell doors in the house basement were always closed tight with
rusted iron links bound by heavy chains. As a poor child alone in
this house with other condemned children, there were nice rooms
upstairs that were always barred and shut to us as we suffered in
the filthy basement below. In Lucifer’s Hell!

I recall now too, in my memory, a gallery of special portraits in
The Old Dark House, which formed a ghastly mosaic of pure evil.
These portraits were of key human disciples of Lucifer who had served
him well through the ages. All of these images were grotesque and evil
when taken as a whole.

What did I learn? Evil is what Evil is! And Evil does what Evil does!

I’m free now from the eternal curse of The Old Dark House. I escaped
this mansion of the macabre as a young man and found my soul path
to Almighty God and stepped into His holy light of forgiveness and
redemption! 

As a very old man now, I sleep and dream a lot. Usually my dreams, 
thank goodness, are pleasant as I draw toward the end of my mortal
existence here on earth.

Yet, despite all the good things in my life now, during October of
each year, as All Hallows’ Eve cometh closer in the deep recesses
of my mind—I remember clearly that the ground floor of The Old
Dark House always had these frigid-cold wind gusts that spoke 
chillingly to one’s very soul. As young kids we would run upstairs
in this evil house to hear the “Demons of the Night” moan and cry!

Old Hob always had a way to speak to all of us as kids in His House!

Anne-Lise Andresen, Liam McDaid, and Gary Bateman
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
September 7, 2016 (Narrative)


Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2016

 





...