Home » Poems » Best » Max Corvus » Best Max Corvus Poems

Best Poems Written by Max Corvus

Below are the all-time best Max Corvus poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Max Corvus Poem

A Hymn To the Night

Oh my lady Night, the dreamer’s mistress,
Enfold me within your dark and sombre shroud,
To sooth my doleful soul and show me happiness,
And unfold before me a world of mystery,
Then display your clouds to fill the emptiness,
Of bygone memories and forlorn miseries.

Instead of your embrace, upon me dreams bestow,
That morrow may not grasp until you come again,
To write what I had dreamt, do inspire me so,
What is written down I cannot forget,
Though we both are vain and our secrets keep,
We must yet await the jolly sun to set.

Allow me, my dear Night, to be your confidant,
Amidst your children rise, the evanescent stars,
When my solemn Reaper starts my name to chant,
Yet until then I shall weave my rhyme and verse,
And when your reign does pass, I must fall asleep,
Only thence may I sing my hymn to the Night.

Details | Max Corvus Poem

The Moonlight Romance

She lay on a black velvet bed,
With black roses engulfing her face,
That face so pale as moonlight, her lips red,
A mirage she is, waiting for his embrace,


So silent, a shadow, he enters the chamber,
With silent whispers, so sweet and so deep,
He walks up to her bed, his form grim and sombre,
Caressing her head says he “sleep my love, sleep”.

She raises her head and asks him to dance,
His wonder too strong; he takes off his cape,
And harpsichords play a moonlight romance,
Intertwined they dance as the moon shifts shape

His lust and her lust about to reveal,
In a tight embrace with him she shall stay,
Her virgin body and her mortal life he steals,
Changed and cold she is, forever such to stay.

Mortal she is not, he can hear her newborn heart,
Now when he is of her kind, death can’t tear them apart,
Two black shadows woosh into the night, ready for their feast,
She is his countess, and he her lover, the beauty and the beast.
 
THE WOLF’S LULLABY

Details | Max Corvus Poem

Dawn

Oh, dawn,
Awake us not,
We lay in bed, asleep,
Embraced – naked, she clings to me,
My love...

Details | Max Corvus Poem

My Lost Love

Tis midnight, no star shining,
My sorrow is nearly burning
All my soul, within me, stirring,
In my heart all hopes are dying.
As I watch you, dead you're lying,
There upon the velvet poppet,
Like a cursed, lethal prophet,
“Oh, my love! “, my poor heart crying.

But the echo still replying,
In this gloomy, hated tower,
In this late nocturnal hour, 
Still you’re lying, not replying.
It is now no more worth trying,
Begging, weeping, pleaing, kneeling,
I have lost my happy feelings,
Only lying, not replying.

You look like an angel sleeping,
Filling my black heart with sadness,
Making me a slave of madness,
Angel sleeping, secret keeping.
Now beside you I am lying,
On a velvet, so smooth, poppet,
Smiling at that cursed prophet,
Happy, cheary, almost dying.

Our bodies the spell is binding, 
And there is no more life in love.

Details | Max Corvus Poem

In Doleful Shadows I Lie

In doleful shadows I lie,
Never touched by the moonlight,
Nor shun upon by the sun,
My existence is an eternal Autumn,
And the tempest of sighs hidden by the wind,
And the rain of eternal tears,
Washes the marble slab covering,
My remains.

Details | Max Corvus Poem

Raven's Quill

As I start to write, the music softly plays,
In my gloomy chamber, with candles a glow,
Black wax dripping down, like forgotten days,
The raven’s quill that clouds and castles draws.

Incense giving off a scent of sandalwood,
And the wine, the poison from the East,
Give me thoughts that Even Seraphs would,
Yet the tender beauty sleeps within the beast.

And then the whispers come, from the shadow lands,
To give me the words, bright and eloquent,
Soft and tender thoughts like my dearest’s hands,
And my quill shall move till the ink is spent.

As the dawn arises, I’m ready to rest,
Among silk and velvet, on my mistress’s breast.

Details | Max Corvus Poem

Phantasmagoria

As my doleful gaze upon thy form hath fallen,
Garbed in the fashion of sadness or mourning,
Nightly tresses thy sombre tone adorning,
Decadent and beauteous, as a Seraph fallen.

A woebegone faerie with wings lost and broken,
Enshrouded in blackness, a sepulchral lady,
With thy pallid skin and thy heart so shady,
Thou art a graveyard angel who seldom has spoken.

Details | Max Corvus Poem

My Cloud

Tiss alive!
But dead!
My cloud!

When alive it thunder spreadeth,
And when dead it darkness shedeth ,
My little virginal cloud!

In the night it shalt ascend,
And before the night would end,
It will return, my weary cloud.

When in anguished misery
It weepeth rain the world to see,
How woe can touch the clouds.

And if the accursed sun,
Doth decide with golden scythe, 
To penetrate my cloud,

Then my cloud shalt split asunder,
Oh with rain and mighty thunder,
The entire world enshroud!

And upon the morrow next,
When thou readeth this sweet text,
Thou shalt find me yon the shroud,

Oh thou sun, I scream to thee,
Not to display bravery,
Stay away from my lovely black cloud!

Details | Max Corvus Poem

A Coffin

My heart is a coffin, to tell you the truth,
With each beat a nail to obscure your youth,
Together, upon the velvet cushions we lie,
Coverlid, our roof, lying but in truth.

Oh how sweet it is, our mourners to see,
Stricken with grief, everyone but we,
Though our eyes are closed, our hearts still do beat,
And it is so vivid to be dead with thee.

Still if it were so, a vain man I’d be,
For in this casket there is no place for me,
It is my own heart and to you belongs.

Correct me if I’m wrong, my faith is worse than death,
Missing your presence with every single living breath,
So my only one, come and die with me.

Details | Max Corvus Poem

The Only Dawn

Enfolded by the white paradise of your loving arms,
I tend to rely to you my dolorous soul’s deepest sensations,
Bemusedly seeking my own vanishing reflection,
In two blue mirrors of fathomless happiness,
Yet underneath my tenebrous shroud the sun arises not,
Without you I drown in a lake of misery and tormenting thoughts,
But when you are near my anguished soul rests in sweet tranquillity,
From wandering the marshes of deep melancholy like a forlorn spectre,
No vine bore so sweet a grape to match your deep enticing kisses,
Neither did a star from Heaven spring to outshine your angelic soul,
And no wormwood ever shall taste as bitter as solitude and absence,
As a solemn star shines brightly over a tempestuous sea or the doleful rain,
Or the sweet blossoms of spring that grow within the  ruins,
A candle you are, that illuminates my nightly discomfort, 
And though my being may dwell in shades, you are the only dawn.