Dark Spirits Poems | Examples
These Dark Spirits poems are examples of Spirits poems about Dark. These are the best examples of Spirits Dark poems written by international poets.
I don't understand it
And I never understood it
How vehement disdain can beat in the chest
And how vitriol can dance in the mind with unrest
The cold, blank stares that quickly turn to a fake smile when I turn and our eyes meet
Too late, that crooked smile can't disguise the dark, desolate eyes that bitterly speak
Yes. They speak to me in ways I can no longer ignore
Their frigidity penetrates my warm heart; my heart feels, so it knows how they abhor
Why? But how could this be the reality?
When I thought we were loving friends and family
Fantasy, what a painful fantasy to live
And all because love is what I wanted to receive and give
I never understood it
And never will I understand it
Hallow’s Eve, when spirits return
And on Styx’s shores, a darkness churns
Lost souls vanish to the veil
Lamenting cries rise up from Hell
Omen hangs high in Stygian sky
Where witches watch with a wicked eye
Eldritch winds whisper a woeful tale
Echoes of death ride on the gale
Night-creatures creep with dreadful bale
Silk word play crosses in two and subtle mind games,
both entangle me; whetting my appetite for war.
Served as a weaponized aphrodisiac;
sharp double edge sword hors d'oeuvre.
Lured toward a subtle intoxication;
true motives ceremoniously exposed.
You trace the contours of my every word;
the renegade now juxtaposed.
We traverse to foreign places unaware;
time itself intensifies, yet slows.
Demons spill from lips to fan the flame of desire;
our spirits overflow.
Autumn's, veil, misty,
Intrigue prowls-horror’s echo,
Halloween's chill creeps.
Masked-truth’s cleaver guise,
Secrets whisper ‘mongst shadows,
Fear stalks-night’s cruel jest.
Spirits Of The Night
A witch has cast an evil spell,
and opened up the gates of hell.
Pouring out upon the ground
the ghosts of hell are spirit bound.
Among the stones row on row
they rise this night, stand and grow.
Incessant shrills that fill the sky,
in the dark we hear their cry.
Souls so cold and full of fright
spirit wraiths that fly by night.
All, whom dare to wander there,
knows that evil lives out there.
Monsters, Zombies, Ghosts and Ghouls
playing by their own rules.
Hideous creatures of the night
call to the heavens spreading fright.
In the streets, they run and play
Trick or Treat is what they say.
By
Josehf Lloyd Murchison
At Halloween
At Halloween, just a few nights ago,
I saw a sinister dark and tangled wood
Beside a town where two rivers flow.
Entering by hidden paths not many know,
There an old and crumbling castle stood
At Halloween just a few nights ago.
From that castle a hooting owl flew low,
Leading me through that dark and tangled wood
Beside a town where two rivers flow,
Ancient halls lit by shaded new moon’s glow
Where spectral guardians in armour stood
At Halloween just a few nights ago,
I was lost in that place dark spirits know,
The owl perching in that haunted wood
Beside a town where two rivers flow
Close by that castle old where shadows grow
And silent ghosts of warriors stood
At Halloween just a few nights ago,
Beside a town where two rivers flow.
10/31/2022
Entered into Halloween Poetry Contest
By Emile Pinet
A heavy colored shirt,
composed, requires a
hot dark drink, scotch
puts fire in the soul...
A light garment,
cheerful colored, demands
spirit of life of a
vibrant drink... champagne.
A joyful effervescent... !
A contagious beer...!
is health for the spirit
of us... !
Howling wind at new moon and its noise,
winged seeds and debridge in determined voice.
Darkness and dusted sculptures in cold demand,
fierce presence of ghosts in dust of sand.
Bending, waving, cracking trees in form to this,
rendezvous with dangerous power harmonies.
Restless spirits taken on regions of dark air,
creating memories of vulnerability still there.
Hearing the rapture coming with a banging door,
excited dust whirling of the floor.
Voices from the kingdom of venerable souls,
crying for respect as the tumbleweed rolls.
Omens of natures for the sensationalized race,
divine virtue for seers reborn through grace.
Wakeful in the eye of the storm to consecrate,
the useless masks for airborne virus that mutate.
The soul that rises with us from dust to dust,
needs earth elements as immunity trust.
In utter nakedness of faith we do come,
weaving spirits of trust that takes us home.
A lone black crow
sits on a limb of a tree
amongst a crowd of trees
that surround the townhouses.
The trees' silhouettes
are drawn on the brick;
on the shingled roofs;
by the Sun this Late January.
The dark shape of the crow
is starker than the trees' cast
of the night color; it is spectre-like,
within the arms of the spectator-like trees.
The branches are frosted with yesterday's spitting snowflakes.
Their bark is the tint of stones;
or the grains of sand on an Irish shore,
viewed on the one rainy day
of a journey so long ago.
A squirrel scurrying up the tree
is the same color-
of the rough or smooth stone,
bleached by the Sun;
of the wet sand of the shore in Ireland,
whose dunes crouch to watch the tides ebb,
to see the pull of the floating Moon.
The squirrel blends into the mourning dove
tinctures as if he were a captive
of the Winter day..
or brushstroked into an oil painting.
The crow, hue of a cold desert night,
lifts to fly away.
The shadows become new shapes
in the shifting sunlight..
they become charcoal spirits
in her sketch of an agued morn'.
In the shadows, we watch.
As you live on your life.
You think this home is only for you,
but we are always behind you.
Up in the attic, down in the basement.
We taunt you, tease you.
Make you our prey.
Draining you of your energy.
We play among your halls,
and speak to give you a scare.
You are worried knowing you live alone.
Yet you know you are not on your own.
Your heart rate rises when you smell us.
The chills make you shiver,
and the hairs stand on end.
You call out and demand to know who's there.
Knowing that only an empty space surrounds you.
Listen hard as we speak loudly,
"We're here!!"
The moonlight casts it's shadows and
old fears return like haunting spirits that will not leave
footsteps echo throughout the silence and,
in the darkness the dead reign.
Soon the endless night will close and
the sun will casts it's shadows
the dust will spell out secret words written by the ghosts
Yet, the silence will remain.
First I feel their cold dark eyes
My body tingles from their stare
I hear sounds when no ones around
For some reason, I attract spirits here
They visit me well into the night
Sometimes, they even haunt my dreams
Although they don’t speak, they stare right at me
Perhaps lost, or stuck in between
Sometimes, my senses begin to go crazy
When I look, they’ve disappeared
I’m completely aware that something was there
The experience is cold, calm, and weird
It could be somebody I know
Or it could even be a demon from hell
Watching over me and waiting to see
Can I handle life’s pain, or kill my self
The spirits dance slow under the moon
With expressionless faces, and darkened eyes
Watching me live, so eager to give
My freshly freed spirit to the afterlife
They’re attracted to me for my ability to feel
Everyone else is just numb and blind
Somehow I can sense their ghostly presence
My pain and depression make me easy to find
So I sit alone, late at night with my pen
As lightning sizzles across the sky
I can ignore the sounds when no ones around
But I can’t ignore feeling their cold, dark eyes
D.R.L.
Do the Angels Rock the Babies?
Do the Angels rock the Babies?
Oh, please tell me it is so.
When they're carried through the Cosmos;
To the place where Spirits go.
Do they sing with Angel sweetness;
A Blessed lullaby?
Do they hold them oh so gently;
And rock them when they cry?
I have often paused to ponder;
Through the long dark passing years.
Does God know that we remember?
Does He see a Mother's tears?
Do the Angels rock the Babies?
Do they kiss and hold them close?
Are they gentle care-providers?
These awesome Heavenly Host.
I know my God is able;
And I know He values man.
He will honor your endeavor;
When you do the best you can.
God's son was once a baby;
He was Bethlehem's precious child.
Our Savior once wore nappies;
Though I know the concept's wild.
There was a time in Heaven;
When the Angels must have cried.
When God gave His only son,
And for us He died.
Do the Angels rock the Babies?
Yes, I think they understand.
The pain and grief we suffer;
And how our God values man.
On Halloween the spirits rise and walk this ancient planet, once again. Put out your jack-o-lanterns to keep them away from your door. Make them scary and snaggle toothed to get those ghouls and goblins, running. Witches and ghosts are different lots so send them running from a bonfire; they’ll be sorry they met you.
On moonlit nights like,
Halloween among the trees;
Shadows will be seen.
Brother Moon casts his
Light and banishes specters,
Through the hallowed night.
In the vast velvet darkness
Of a warm summer night
Silhouettes loose their sharpness.
It's a dreamer's delight.
I'm wandering through places
And the times that aren't here.
I'm looking for traces
Of the wonders revered.
Of the spirit igniting
Every string of my soul,
Of the fate so inviting
That I'm losing control.
It will take me to new heights,
Make me feel life anew.
And through dark skies and moon light
It will bring me to you.