Dark Now Poems | Examples
These Dark Now poems are examples of Now poems about Dark. These are the best examples of Now Dark poems written by international poets.
On a hill exists a house of tards.
We send them now.. Our worst regards'
They listen to foreign powers..
They work dark stuff.!
We must now invoke the constitution
For we have all had enough.!
I'll be back before it gets dark
after we get tired of playing king of the hill.
Sun sets so late in summer
against the willows..
sometimes I forget.
No, it just isn't so.
I don't always choose them over you,
'course I could never tell you that.
You're a girl, a special one.
But I can't tell you that either.
Still, when you told me your stomach hurt,
and I was the reason..
I believed you.
Don't know what to say, never seem to
'cept maybe
'Sorry you feel bad, I know that place too.'
'Put your sandals on, I'll walk you home
we can go slow.'
Oh alright - looks over her shoulder to the gang
'now we can hold hands.'
Enough, he said with voice pitched low
Enough for now, he whispered slow
And curled in upon himself
Having nothing left to show
Knowing no one and nonself
Enough, he cried though no one heeded
Enough for now, as he retreated
And left another piece behind
Having no faith to be intreated
Perceiving his own broken mind
Enough, he proclaimed with a tremor
Enough for now, if I remember
And cursed himself a fool
Having no word to condemn her
Aware that she was ever cruel
Enough, he shouted above the gale
Enough for now, and beyond the pale
And twisted his face into a scowl
Having nothing to add to the tale
Conscious of the verdict’s howl
Enough, he cursed deep and vile
Enough for now, with poet’s style
And laughed with bitter fortune
Having lost the courage to smile
Mindful of his full lost portion
Enough, he screamed from soul deep
Enough for now, as he woke from his sleep
And shuddered as his eyes opened
Having nothing and no tears to weep
Heeding the anguish that life betokened
Bleak, Bitter ! Now dragging dull days.
Too long Past and too short Future
At present, in senile decay.
Does not matter, rue or rapture.
No dynamism., life stagnant,
Bleak, Bitter ! Now dragging dull days.
Forgotten when progress was vibrant.
All around dark, no shiny rays.
Life has no charm, lustre and glaze
Nothing to expect , nothing to gain.
Bleak, Bitter ! Now dragging dull days
Only spending time in vain.
Awaiting for last bell to ring
Yet for rest of life, wish to pray
Dynamism again to bring !
Bleak, Bitter ! Now dragging dull days.
No Victory Day when the Genocide is NOW
The Nazis were defeated in war
their ideologies simmered
germinated in the wombs of today's monsters
many may not know
Zionists and Nazis held hands in the dark
they kissed and collaborated
now the Zionists carry the flag
changed the color not the atrocities
playing the victim
while they dance and slaughter
an army in diapers, while they kill your daughters
today's Zionists
condemned by the true Jews of the land
liberate the Gaza camp NOW
As she drinks nectar from a flower, sweetness from heaven falls like dew
anointed with a gentle rain amidst sun showers she appears as if on cue
Lifting her wings she lands on a Zinnia beneath a tinted sky of April blue
flight of fancy fanning fast, fabulous marvel, she is beauty true on true
Pheromones fill the air as the males call the females to their abode
their abdomens linked tail-to-tail, and on the damsels' eggs the male seed are sowed
From thereon, dull caterpillars slowly transformed into exquisite beauties
then, to a new hope, many newborns flew, making gardens filled with cuties
She then whispered that before brightness, there was a very dark darkness~
so don’t give up on your life just because your present swims in starkness
"Learn from my life cycle," she further said, "beauties that once were can still be
so your belief in sunshine after this raging storm is paramount and key"
From then on, she became me, and I became her, and hope of a better tomorrow fills me
far from me, fear then fled—I face my problems with glee, from hopelessness my life is free
The foot of the table
rose up to adjust the shape of my chin.
It was a glooming, looming 3 a.m.
when I saw the bedside clock
through that pitch dark
that occurs at the back of an eye
when time is a few decades too slow.
The table has put itself together
once more,
bought from IKEA, it took two days
to assemble, and a lifetime
to disassemble.
Now it's just a lightless prop
for a drooling jaw.
My dad is here offering advice,
when he was alive, he made televisions
out of the spare parts
of alien spacecraft.
I have no such skills, yet I know
that time occasionally
stands at the edge of a cliff
photographing
my fleeting existence,
as if it were a Dodo
straining to remember
how to fly.
In a distance beyond my ken,
table feet clip-clop away.
Come to Now, brothers, and how!
Firewood after dark.
Compliments, O sacred cow!
Fling and flicker stark.
Could be, O my sages.
Riddles wrought in rhyme.
Time, bequeath thy ages!
Prime o'er Soul? Sublime.
Tapping on the clipboard?
Fingernail or pen?
Dragon, will ye guard thy hoard?
Fennel, fire, and fen...
Oblique? Carelessness, critique?
Frequency, catch flame!
Will the strong succor the weak?
If they want food, claim.
Catch up on thy sleep? Dig deep.
Cross the boneyard? Creep.
Preparation! Want to weep?
Stack behind the heap!
Present in the moment?
It's better that ye be.
Rebellions to foment?
Sink foemen in the sea.
Wind, rattle the weathervane!
Let the boy explain?
Yes, before we toss in main!
After a spring rain!
Educate for poppies?
Dreamers, why wile away?
Fish for gold or crappies?
O for, some sunny day.
Fright or plight? Best be polite?
Doom and dynamite!
Gods of death, thy dun delight!
Lone in line of sight...
A moonchild under moon shadow,
hiding in the dark side of the
moon or darkness of the night, why?
Come out, come out and go under
the moonlight and see the bright
stars twinkling, like specks of gold
all over the clear night sky, pure
black like a soft warm blanket to
comfort you and make you feel
safe … hush now … shhhh …
Ruffling the feathers
Of your expectations.
Rilke to the left.
The portrait of Alf
The back of my left ear.
What unconscionable theives,
These Time Czars,
Where we live with the scars,
As joy bounces on the crevices.
I see you in the dark in some cave.
Let me be your bombastic populist.
The Strong Arm of the Soul.
Play in the light of least resistance.
My garden grows in the garden of your heart.
My every breathe is your eternal existence.
Bite the doughnut.
Press for hugs.
There is creatures of the nigh
Drop to my knees and scream at the sky
Thunder bellows and a lightning strike
The world pauses
“There can only be one ruler of the night”
Shaking I stand, blade across concrete, “Die!”
Vortices murder and unkind who will lay supine?
Rumble of the earth as hailing feathers fly
Learn something new everyday
Today… There is actually dark and light..
I may have stumbled upon something inside
Now you are talking to me, your words so tight are now unbound,
In whispers of dusk, where lost echoes are found.
A symphony silent, yet pulsing with sound,
Drawing our spirits from dark to light.
Now you are talking to me, in this fleeting hour,
Your voice like a breeze through a garden in flower.
Each syllable dances, a waltz in the night,
Casting away every trace of our fright.
Now you are talking to me, with truth in your tone,
Breaking the barriers we’ve long outgrown.
In the heart of the stillness, where secrets once slept,
We forge a new language where dreams are kept.
Now you are talking to me, as stars softly gleam,
In the hushed conversation of soul and dream.
A moment eternal, where silence has flown,
Now you are talking to me, and I am found.
To show that you care
When on your chin is fur,
Because..."All men are the same."
For, those who care will have their hearts damaged and eyes,
filled with bloodlike tears.
And once you're seen crying,
Or "whimpering", then you're a weakling.
Yet, men are supposed to be Strong.
Because, "All men are the same", right?
So, play along and tell tales
Of how strong you are
And how long in the dark you can dwell,
Fear, being the last thing you can even smell.
Now it is shameful,
To appear soft and loving
When others are rough and tough
If the blanket goes off, no need for tugging,
For you will give us another reason to laugh
Because, "All men are strong!"
For, soft and loving are qualities not suitable
For a player who knows how the ball rolls.
You can't be a man, yet not a player
That's just a wish, you're a terrible liar.
And besides, "All men are the same", right?
a small cloud passed white
against a dark blue sky
curved, for eyes like mine,
remembering eyes like yours.
a small cloud igniting
another heart
to burn along its way
that was my yesterday.
The River of Days, in ceaseless flow it glides,
Yesterday's whispers carried on the tides.
Sun-dappled fragments, like ripples on the stream,
Dim echoes fading, a forgotten dream.
Today, a shimmering drop, a fleeting spark,
Caught in the sunbeam, leaving its gentle mark.
Where memories mingle with the future's call,
A precious moment, poised to rise or fall.
With steady hands and reason's guiding light,
We carve our virtue in this fleeting might.
A seed of action, sown with mindful care,
To blossom brightly is a burden we can bear.
Tomorrow's vista, shrouded in soft mist,
A canvas waiting for the artist's kiss.
Unfurling whispers on the whispered breeze,
A symphony of maybes, rustling through the trees.
Will dawn ignite with hope's celestial fire?
Or will the storm clouds gather, dark and dire?
The river whispers secrets, yet untold,
Only time's embrace will make its story bold.
So let us gather fragments from the past,
Lessons learned, that forever seem to last.
With virtue's compass guiding every stride,
We meet the future, with hope as our guide.
For in the river's dance, both swift and grand,
Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow, hand in hand.