Home » Poems » Best » D. Edward Night » Best D. Edward Night Poems

Best Poems Written by D. Edward Night

Below are the all-time best D. Edward Night poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | D. Edward Night Poem

Twisted Irony

Yearning burns

Like severed ties,

Across the tides of time

Where our love still resides.

Twisted irony

The fates are crule

To steal us away from the others embrace.

To join us again without loves grace.

The unrequited is gut-wrenching agony.

Why do we suffer?

Mutual feelings are redirected.

My pain for her, is hers for another

All the same, unreflected.

Twisted irony

The fates are cruel.

My muse

My bemusement.

I regret nothing

Save for what is beyond our control.

Who am I, a mere man to question fate?

I must bury this now.

Am I so bold?

For my own survival my heart must grow cold.

If only for a little while.

Her smile still warms my soul.

Twisted irony.




~ 2021

Details | D. Edward Night Poem

Inner Self

Just a man alone in thought

The darkness overtakes me.

Content with the solace it hath brought

The silence, it awakes me.

Tired & weary in physical state

My soul calls out & mind berates.

Average mind of mad proportions

Why must you create such distortion?

Heart, trembling with wonder

Desire to feel torn asunder.

Find myself, rejuvenated, new day brings new life.

Different time, same old soul, anew created, retaining all its strife.

I mean not to sound cold or disconnected, habits of old formed once more by lessons unreflected.

Eyes that see time aloft, mysteries revealed.

All upon a mad man gone sane who must keep his secrets sealed.



~ 2018

Details | D. Edward Night Poem

The Witching Hour

3:00am; The hour of old souls & deep thinkers.
Dreamers though we're wide awake.
Loud hearts & silent eyes, our every thought the night to take.
Bewitching ours, the Witching hour, what mystery awaits.


~ 2020

Details | D. Edward Night Poem

We the Few

Autumn nights, cool & dark. You feel the season begin to change.
An energy shift, a chill in the air, something cometh - something strange.
Out of sight with stealth it creeps, envelopes the soul while most are asleep.
But we the few the children of dusk cherish this time of spiritual lust.
For nows the time of bones & dust, revived anew beneath the crust.
The veil thins, new life begins, & old life returns to our realm again.
As the sun sets & the moon will rise the solstice descends upon the skies.
The spirits now walk among the true, finally whole again,
we the few.


~ 2019

Details | D. Edward Night Poem

Our Salvation

Dazed and confused

With wondering eye.

Fires alight, inside their minds.

To look upon unspeakable treachery,

Sewn from ivory towers.

By day, by night.

Oligarchs and aristocrats, unsavory powers.

We fight. We fight!

Illusion crafted of contemptuous divide.

Friends versus another

is how the ruling class presides.

For apart, our might is few.

But people United finds strength anew.

Though chaos is what rulers desire,

Their armies stand ready to quell pitchforks and fire.

Violence only begets more violence.

The one thing they truly fear is civil defiance.

For the one thing that truly defeats a tyrant,

Is the one thing they are most incapable of.....

Love.




~ 2020

Details | D. Edward Night Poem

We Turn To Words

We turn to words.

For our hope, our bewilderment, our dreams and our pain.

Over and over, the same 26 letters rearranged.

Always a new story to share. Our love, or our sorrow, our secrets bare.

We turn to words to make it to tomorrow.

Poets find solace in passionate art.

We speak from the heart,

And articulate all that brings us together and tears us apart.

Raw emotion unrelenting.

Souls exposed ever ascending.

Words are timeless and unending.

We turn to words.

Tales are woven like tapestry,

Encompassing quaint mastery.

They reflect our deepest most intimate selves.

Poetry is to the heart, what music is to the soul.

A reflection of everything we are

Laid to bare on a page for all to behold.

We wear our words as both armor and scars.

We don't just write poems, we are poems. They are what we are.

After some time the poet may pass on.

But the poems live forever.

We become them.

And thus, we turn to words.


~2021

Details | D. Edward Night Poem

Enigma

A woman's heart is like an ocean;

As strong, as vast, and as mysterious as the deepest sea.

Many waves flow on her tides, and even for the bravest of souls her currents can either carry you to new horizons, or capsize you to the most bismal abyss.

For within her depths are both wonder & treachery. An enigma that even Poseidon would hesitate to tread.


~ 2020