Lover, Lover
The nighttime sings our names
Ballads of the figurative Juliet
Radios hiss hearts spilled the shadows hide naked ambition stilled
Neglected emotional hills wafts through valleys of past lives
Karmic backlogs review their closing percentages
Futures flood the floors hold the line between fate and tears
Shadow people alone in the twilight
Illuminated letters, walls woed to sleep
Dreams from the shoreline as phantom vessels waltz on the silver linings
Postures of stable footing, top of the line, kings and queens of value
Thumbs circle the knuckles, bone kisses bone, the familiar taste of home
Haunted hems lines explored in tribal pursuits
Please keep me waiting
The specter of tender frames evaporates
Morning ghosts caress the memory in travel
Neckties versus deadlines
Power brokered, breath that betrays the dream
Folded napkins
Cocktail napkin epitaphs
Check please
a man of towering stature,
mercurial temperament
well-known, his avarice
for absolute power,
a dreadful reputation
for intimidating underlings
in brutal fashion,
unsits the current king,
takes control
of the kingdom.
there's not iron gate
he cannot get past
the strongest of towers,
he could tumble down
his favor cannot be won
by a silver coin.
who has the the courage
to challenge his authority?
he mutes the loudest,
makes whispers
out of their screams,
he fearlessly
takes on giants
he puts away crowns
too heavy for his head
yet, his shadow fills
any room he walks into,
it makes
the proudest bow low,
still, he can never touch
anyone's light,
or steal the love
foreign to him
The order of Light
is to experience
common Truth itself.
Language is not a perfect game —
more than the sum of things,
like moon, sky, centre, body, bed —
all the singing masters know.
Picture two lovers — wake
to hold the real world —
by body,
word by word;
Wild halos — their thought.
Candide Diderot. ‘26
For Gwen Harwood (1920–1995)
Who taught us that thought is surrounded by Light, and that Love holds the real and imagined world.
Blackout poetry extraction from the original poem —
“Thought is Surrounded by a Halo” by Australian poet Gwen Harwood (Brisbane, Queensland, Australia).
My Soul is Tired
Sometimes the darkness can swallow you whole to where there's no end in sight. The soul struggles and fights praying to be guided to what's right, but the darkness over comes and the soul becomes numb to all the pain and suffering you've witnessed throughout your life. Your soul reads like a novel every page engraved of your struggles. You often re-read those pages to make sense of it all praying the ending will bring fire to your soul. The pain, the suffering, the good and bad had penetrated your soul by all you've had. Your soul can only observe so much suffering before tiredness sets in and there is no light only darkness within. The soul must sleep and write the end of the novel of your life from beginning to end.
Existence is a frail leaf
battered by the storm
Tossed about by winds’ desires
vibrance turned forlorn
Why cling we so to what we know
returns to ash and dust
To make our mark, to light a spark
a candle midst the dark
In the shadow of the colossal sphere, where ancient echoes sleep,
Vaeloria fades into the dark, a secret it must keep.
The watchers put their scopes away, the screens fade out to grey,
As morning calls the busy streets to meet another day.
No scholar marks the turning tide, no profit in the view,
For men forget the distant stars to chase what is brand new.
They walk through cities built of glass, untroubled, blind, and proud,
Unknowing that the selfsame veil is gathering like a cloud.
The rot that choked the Aethel Sea now crawls along their strand,
An unremembered resonance that slips across the land.
As silent as the giant orb that hid the world before,
The shadow comes to take their home, and lock them in its lore.
No longer do i seek
divination through
antiquated sorcery,
Nor supplicate to nebulous
spirits in clandestine
reverie.
I renounce the esoteric, the
obfuscatory, the occulted
night,
For I have found an
effulgent, benedictory,
convenantal light.
My soul rejects
thaumaturgical illusions and
superstitious chains,
And clings to the
transcendent, the
veracious, where true
freedom reigns.
No hex, no sigil, no arcane
nomenclature can compare,
To the omnipotent grace
that answers every
whispered prayer.
Let the ephemeral
glamorous of witchcraft
dissipate,
I walk now in sanctification-
redeemed, restored, and
consecrate.
Transparency is like a graduated cylinder
that exposes its contents to view;
When the liquid of clarity shows no obscurity,
the measure marks of sincerity stay true.
Transparency is like a window
that lets the truth beyond the glass be clearly seen;
When the curtain dances across the pane,
it turns into doubt's hanging screen.
Transparency is like a flashlight
that unmasks what darkness tries to hide;
When the hand of power turns the switch off,
though the battery of bureaus stays charged, facts feel denied.
Transparency is like an official receipt
that documents a record for authentication;
When the culprit leaves no certificate of traceability,
no item, amount, or date will show the transaction.
Transparency is like an open book
whose text declares what all have rights to see;
When the crook closes the pages of public awareness,
it covers the volume of its dark secrecy.
The clouds hide what is coming.
The skies loom in the darkness,
The fear it brings.
My heart races with evil thoughts,
Sensing the hidden messages,
Underneath thinking I cant feel them.
Trickery will not be tolerated.
He started this war and,
I will finish it,
With a vengeance.
there's a faint hum
in the pipes
as if everything is waiting
for something to occur
outdoors,
s overhead
g like a damp linen
n
a
h
the gray sky
neither raining or clearing
t r a p p e d
in the quiet transition
between seasons
he sits on the floor
where sunlight
once reached him at 3'o clock
watching particles of dust suspended
in the still, lifeless air
tiny worlds
that could no longer fail
the stove clock was set,
ticks steadily
moving the hands forward
nevertheless,
everything else remains
u n c h a n g e d
his coffee turns cold
in the mug,
a dark mirror
skimming the surface of the morning
to move would be to shatter
this fragile, glass a blown equilibrium.
he'll remain here...
an unread line
on an open page
waiting for the wind
to determine which direction
the door should swing.
The world can see
Unless their eyes are glued close
That the law only applies
To regular and poor people
It doesn't apply to the rich
Because they constantly
Ignore and defies court
And Judges orders with
No backlash
They just ignores it all and
Continues to do what
They want, so where is
The law again or what law
The sun affects so much of what we see
it pierces into these places so dark
without the sun, it remains hidden
it's been like that ever since the ark
These dark corners hidden away
we seem to miss that hidey-hole
except when that bright beam penetrates
it brings out what otherwise would have stole
Now your body also has dark places
that when the sun shines, it bright rays
it brings a rich glow upon your face
shows up God's hidden hand done with clay
The obvious darkness is in the night
out there, only the stars and the moon
brings light to the night out there
makes one wish for a bright high noon
There's an invisible darkness in our souls
which is worse than any other kind
for it will bring an eternal death
which only God's Son can everlastingly shine
I hate the feeling of my tongue on my teeth,
The way my breath hides underneath.
You think a smile is a sign,
To cross my boundaries, blur the line.
You reach for me, one by one;
Until my trust is overrun.
You twist my words into a game,
And somehow I'm the one to blame.
For you it was but a failed attempt,
But to me, it's thoughts I can't repent.
I sit here with a pit in my stomach;
While you move on, still living free.
You were nothing more than a friend to me,
I said that clearly, repeatedly.
You say something strange, I look away.
I change the subject; you laugh and stay.
I trusted you to respect my wishes,
But you turned my silence into permission.
You act as if I owe you touch,
When I never promised you that much.
Even now, I cannot help but think,
I replay each word you made me drink.
My voice is mine, my body too;
I owe no part of me to you.
Shadow Man
Sitting in an empty room.
He watches down the hall.
As shadows move across the floor.
And dance along the wall.
His eyes grow darker like the room.
Cause to him it’s all the same.
Rejected by the light of day
the shadows call his name.
Sitting in the darkened room,
Where nighttime never ends.
He don’t seem to mind at all.
The shadows are his friends.
He listens to the whispers.
Carried in the nighttime air.
As shadows repeat secrets.
That someone dared to share.
Be careful what you say or do.
It’s part of a greater plan.
The secrets told that he may hold
the one called Shadow Man.
Edwin C Hofert
Send us to flame, Your holy fire.
Test marrow, strip our cloaks of dust.
The scorched cry beneath the empire.
Their dreams are ash, yet bound by trust.
Test marrow, strip our cloaks of dust.
Find the few who break yet endure.
Their dreams are ash, yet bound by trust.
A balm to wounds ancient and pure.
Find the few who break yet endure,
Give them the world, awash in grace.
A balm to wounds ancient and pure,
The meek who walk a ruthless place.
Give them the world, awash in grace.
The scorched cry beneath the empire.
The meek who walk a ruthless place,
Send us to flame, Your holy fire.
Dark Categories
Definition | What is Dark in Poetry?
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Related Poetry Forms
black, cloudy, dark complexioned, dark skinned, dead of night, dingy, ebony, foreboding, gloomy, midnight, misty, murky, night, nightfall, nighttime, ominous, overcast, shadowy, somber, swarthy, tan, witching hour,