Dark Poems | Examples of Dark Poetry

It comes in waves Before you know it Was it always there It comes in waves You didn’t think about it today Did I make it up Is pain a feeling I’ve ever known It comes in waves This time was stronger than usual The emptiness it left seems bigger than the space inside of me. Gulping down anything to furnish the...

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SPRING FORWARD --> slipping & sliding ---> sneezING away ------))!!! looming wet yellow haze : *SEVERE* outages : FUTURECAST HiBeRnAtIoN Day! ; all ?|^devouring^|? (PM—AM) / gargantuan STORMS ; breaking singing stinging\\\\springing toward////springing stinging shaking a THREAT !!!!-------------wildfiring forward----------market MELTdown springing advisory (duly logged)--(Exit apocalypse) )~~~WIND forward accelerating your toward(ing) - smoldering : its SERIOUS (3 out of 4) *\/*~*\/*~*\/*~*\/*~*\/*~*\/*~*\/*~*\/*~*\/*~*\/*~*\/*~*\/* RESPOND :...

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Hear me out please, Lord, for to you I do pray. I’ve lost my direction lately, will you point the way? I’m trying to redirect myself as you asked me to. Now I need your help, I am counting on you. Should I sit here and wait for you, I don’t have a clue. I...

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mountains made of w a ...

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Breathing in acid rain, seeing red, wrath burns through translucent veins, heartbeat rattles against a jilted sternum. ...

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The kind ones, the mean ones, the big ones, the lean ones- Some try, some don't, and some cry, but some don't. Actions and reactions, what are they but events, cycling o'er and o'er? We laugh, we cry, we live, we die; cycling o'er and o'er. The poor ones, the rich ones, the happy ones, the sad ones, "Why does money even matter?" Cycling o'er and o'er. History repeats,...

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Tyranny wears no single face— it dances in silk and iron, in laughter rippling through marble halls, in jeweled cups brimming with poison. Here stand five shadows cloaked in power: the Jade Empress who penned her conquests in ink of blood; the Blood Countess who bathed in youth’s final heartbeat; the Poison Queen whose roses wilted on royal lips; the Thorned Mother sculpting...

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When I close my eyes and start to imagine I wonder what life would be If the world had lost all of its passion Would the streets at night be empty? Would there no longer be any excitement? My mind suddenly turns everything black and white The art and culture are gone, and there’s no longer any alignment Everything I knew and...

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Stacking mistakes on top mistakes Putting everything in its place. Keeping my Framed Memories. On display My heart Hides the flaws With paint. Meaningless things filling the room becoming a hoarder that is hiding you. Kilos of your love get caught in hidden traps , i set up. My numb heart starts...

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Across the water The street light flows Trees undressed Allow the light to glow Saturated shadows define the streetlight Changing each moment Before the sun rises Water appears as a dark stain Birds squawking softly ...

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Of imagery in yonder meadow she had much to say from daffodils on rolling hills to ivy covered fences Yet of tragedy she would not write ...

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When hues collide, a stark and brutal scene, Black bruises blooming where the light once played, And blue, a sorrow, silent and unseen, Beneath the surface, where the heart's betrayed. Is this the canvas where our truths reside? A testament to battles fought and lost, Where tenderness and anger cannot hide, And pain's raw artistry incurs such cost? Or do these colors whisper...

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The morning was dark and misty venturing out before the throng weaving between oak and elder the path I took was long I stumbled on a clearing and fell down upon my knees it was there I started digging through discarded wood and leaves burrowing through the top soil breaking deeper in the dirt my fingers and palms wore earth stains nails had worked to earn...

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Beyond these plastic shades There is a glow. I can let it in, Or I can bid it go. Some days it is welcome. I shout, Come on in. Others, the brightness Gets under my skin. My fellows think it sad. They whisper I'm mad, That I've come undone. When it is they Who don't know The peace of the dark, The death of the glow....

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Roll back the tides of time, and tell, Of ancient books of myths, of hell, Of temperance, nuns succumbed to gloom, Entombed within their living tombs, Of monks, and saints, and gospel song, Born gently by the breeze, along, Of deep toned organs' peeling swells, Of virgins, Mary, and funeral knells, Of dim-lit cells and penance loaned, Which can for one's darkest deeds, atone, Look...

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