Dark Poetry

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  1. couturepopcafe profile image61
    couturepopcafeposted 13 years ago

    In another forum, MrMidNight asked the question "Do you think you are a dark poet?"  Several comments came in but there were no examples of the writings of the 'dark' posters' works. 

    Please post here perhaps between 2 -10 lines of some of your 'dark' work or comment on what constitutes 'dark' poetry.

    censored by e.lee caleca

    ripped from the quiet pool
    knife to my brain
    the courts' authority exposing the flood of my cradle
    the middle seat, narrow and pragmatic, is unable to win me favor

    and so before i taste the breath of the wind
    i am flushed away with antiseptic nonchalance
    my name drizzling down the drain in some surgeon's footpath.

    1. prettydarkhorse profile image63
      prettydarkhorseposted 13 years ago

      The Cimmerian shade sets in
      Then the dark, lonely agonizing night
      And the agony of a crying tormented soul
      The distant crying of a wounded heart

      Feeling the dark vast abyss of voidness
      Of a love that is a prisoner of herself
      Intertwined in the darkness of dreams
      Until the night he held me in his arms!

      dark poetry with tinge of love

      1. yazoogal43 profile image39
        yazoogal43posted 13 years agoin reply to this

        Dark, oh yes that undefinable bauble. the idyosycracy of  poe unbridled and other hopefuls, dark as related to what? the neutality of words. the persona of the fearful? one more word to define that which is not known to begin with. dark is unknown so cannot legibly be written about.

    2. Jaggedfrost profile image59
      Jaggedfrostposted 13 years ago

      If I speak not of darkness,
      not even a refrain
      the blood flowing from pen tip
      answering for pain
      it dwells in my cave under my name
      a place to hide from you
      wallowing in shame of feelings
      unfit for my self
      as my fingers itch
      for the knife on the shelf.

    3. SylvieReisdon profile image60
      SylvieReisdonposted 13 years ago

      like a monster
      creeping inside me
      I must keep you at bay
      if only for my sanity
      why is it you keep lurking inside my head
      ready to engulf all my thoughts
      ready to make me do the unthinkable
      I wish you would just disappear
      but there you linger
      somewhere I do not know

      This is only part of the actual work.

    4. Jaggedfrost profile image59
      Jaggedfrostposted 13 years ago

      ahorseback 24 hours ago:

      Are dark poets always as
      unsettled as I.
      Once I had the chance
      and lost it.
      and now.....now.
      The darkness of the night
      skies give way to stars.
      And the wolf moon dances for
      pennies at the circus......
      Yes....Yes I am dark
      and getting darker still.
      Are you too afraid
      to look me in
      the eyes?

    5. couturepopcafe profile image61
      couturepopcafeposted 13 years ago

      sidereal hour

      the mystery of death is revealed
      the magic deception is life's slight of hand
      angel wings flutter upon my breath, soundless wards of my rage
      death is not a painful thing, deep jewel of night
      drown me in thy quay
      for i have fallen to sweet relief...

      listen...to the air...lucious sound of emptiness...

    6. Jaggedfrost profile image59
      Jaggedfrostposted 13 years ago

      Tis Dark to deal
      with  the light of minds
      flighty or ungrounded optimism
      causes to rub
      two brain cells together
      forcing humanity to admit
      that not all is gayety's
      and light inspiration
      but serious contemplation
      of the consequences
      of human vagrancy.

      You could also just cheat and mention gratuitous amounts of blood, gore, despair, and death but where is the fun in that?

      1. couturepopcafe profile image61
        couturepopcafeposted 13 years agoin reply to this

        ...human vagrancy.       hmmm.

    7. Fluffymetal profile image76
      Fluffymetalposted 13 years ago

      I wake to a nightmare

      In the daylight of my life

    8. Jaggedfrost profile image59
      Jaggedfrostposted 13 years ago

      lol why thank you Esspweb

    9. profile image0
      zampanoposted 13 years ago

      Why is it so dark ?
      Why do I feel so cold ?
      I remember a warm spark of a fire glittering gold
      me and my love, total abandon in our couch mould
      crossing the night to a new sunrise arc
      carrying hopes, laughter, pages of life to unfold...
      Alas, the journey went astray.
      Begone night and day, somber shadows come to lay
      like a hunter net upon a prey...
      Now silence and stillness freeze in acceptation
      of an eternity not of memories but oblivion
      Aaaaahhhh !

    10. know one profile image60
      know oneposted 13 years ago

      When I recently joined and began posting hubs the first posting challenges were 1) Title (I generally don't) and 2) Category - where was the one for Dark?! I've never thought to categorise them before - they just are what they are. Anyway, I would consider the following poem "dark" - but then, it's just whatever it is to the reader, depending on where they shine their own light.

      They were never far apart: her
      mirrored self, hate, and heart.
      She got up close – just close
      enough – to see the flaws to
      pull apart. No more could she
      step away and blur the line
      between what she loathed and
      what was fine than she could
      say no to the Devil’s lair, it
      held the strongest sway over
      her despair. Her heart was
      broke, it cared nothing for
      life beyond the bathroom door,
      and so she bled from the open
      wounds of a razor tongue and
      reflected moon. She would say
      goodnight to loneliness, bid
      empty farewell to what could
      never be missed - except that’s
      a lie the mirror told, it fed the
      hate and made her bold, but it
      never planned for the hollow
      when her image was lost to
      the black angel’s yen.

    11. profile image0
      Circle Kposted 13 years ago

      Just check out " Bloody Mary " on my page...Dark stuff is what i do best.Even though " Bloody Mary " i think is one of my ok ones. \m/
      Darkness can come from anywhere, even in the brightest light.
      Without one you can't have the other.

    12. manlypoetryman profile image82
      manlypoetrymanposted 13 years ago

      My stab at a little dark poetry...

      Mid-section to "Nightmare of Abstracting Thought"; by manlypoetryman:

      "And yet again...my Nightmare found me...though I tried hard to avoid...

      Yet...now confronted by its' very presence...I must view that which I've least enjoyed.

      I knew I must be again dreaming...but it was hard to feel...

      Looking around...the Nightmare was...Oh, so real.

      Everything here was set in place...to the most mi'nute detail...

      I stood to fight...but all I did was fail.

      I paid a heavy price...My Nightmare had come true...

      There was nothing I could change for now...Nothing...I could say or do.

      Welcome...to my own worst Nightmare...Sorry...you had to come along...

      I'd tell you that it will all work out...but then...I might be wrong !

      I was going along...At ease...and in quiet rest...

      Now...managing Life's curveballs...struggling...at best.

      I will give the moment...its' expected diligence...though I don't know how I'll get through...

      Until I awaken from this Nightmare and come back once more...I'm alone....there is nothing anyone can do !

      For it was a Nightmare of Abstracting thought...which truly drove me to be insane !

      The screams I had were internal...the thoughts...though quiet...caused me great pain."

    13. mylife=adventure profile image60
      mylife=adventureposted 13 years ago

      The reasons obvious to still open eyes

      As the world painted its open skies

      He would sit under and protrude his skin

      Think this is the only way to win

      Many others could claim his twin

      Thoughts progress towards what is spent

      His liquid angel had already been sent

      Than a drive to see what he can find

      Could be small could be white

      Could make him fall or lose his sight

      didn’t matter if it took away his mind

      Almost the point to the scandal

      To finally go off to lose his handle

      If you could live in that bag

      Would you see all that drag

      He had nothing to his name

      Only holdin out for the fame

      Always endin in unnerving shame

      That point to life is havin fun

      As the one and forgotten son

      Made his list of goals on a board

      Only had one to add than no more

      Sadly it was only for the next score

      Thoughts could burn you to the core

      Take it from everything you could want

      Dreams to others don’t mean squat

      Streams together are hardly fought

      So hed run and cower

      Let it fill with its gutless power

      Itll all be gone by the hour

      Wish he had time to look back and ask

      For maybe one more pack

      Too late its gone never more

      Sit and cry on all your fours

      Is this fair for him to blame

      The reasons he never came

      On all this mixture he has got in his brain

      All it built up in his snot

      Hed say yes but prolly not

      Just like that hell die alone

      The brightest star ever shown

      Everyone will cry and moan

      Although some will know

      All about his late night show

      And understand maybe better for him to go

    14. Ben Evans profile image62
      Ben Evansposted 13 years ago

      A silent vengeance
      sits lifeless and vast.
      On the face is a look
      that is aghast.

      Fear is an inner merchant
      of torment and pain.
      Death is an ending
      so we're no longer insane.

      The snake is pure black
      as he slithers between the breast.
      An ashen skin makes contrast as
      the eyes show rest.

    15. Jaggedfrost profile image59
      Jaggedfrostposted 13 years ago

      You liked that did you Couture?

    16. Arthur Fontes profile image75
      Arthur Fontesposted 13 years ago

      The Undesirable

      The Public:

      Everywhere is bustle all around the town.

      Everyone is rushing all who wear a frown.

      Time is so important, it never stands still.

      Yet time doesn't exist to those who do not live.

      They sit in their squalor, do not dare a peek.

      Names are nothing, to all just a freak.

      Addictions are rampant life is shorter still.

      Voices in the head at night, stop them with a pill.

      Do not claim pity.

      Do not claim fear.

      For the Undesirable exists on a lower level tier.

      Hide them in the shadows.

      Put them in a box.

      If they loiter outside then we

      must change the locks.

      The Private:

      Loneliness and loss of pride turns a soul to darkness wide.

      Loss of will and grief in life turns the inner soul outside at night.

      Lie your head upon the stone, waking up to the cities moan.

      Hunger pangs and thirst to quench, discarded scraps of indulgence.

      The monkey needs to be fed as well, on the soul is where he dwells.

      Loss of pride and confidence, destroys the sense of arrogance.

      When it's time to leave the world the undesirable pleads for pearls.

    17. The Demon Writer profile image61
      The Demon Writerposted 13 years ago

      Emptiness spills from dark corners
      Nothingness oozes from vacant space
      Numbness kills all emotion
      Light seeping away
      Replaced by infinity
      Easing onward into complacency
      Luke-warm hearts
      Life begins and ends in the middle
      Fade out fade in
      Fade away
      No light shines bright at the end of the tunnel
      Never ending black whole
      Swallowing all
      Regurgitating it's undying yet already dead insides
      Onto and into the surrounding nothing
      Of our big little world

      Dark poetry is whatever you want it to be.

    18. Ben Evans profile image62
      Ben Evansposted 13 years ago

      I take of the breather
      to take a smoke.
      I stare at the clock.
      The wall looks sterile.

      I cry but am not really sorry.
      My fingers once strong
      wrap the bone.

      I look and see the sun
      graying by smog.
      It is paralyzed like me from cancer
      It is silently accepting.

      I lift my mask once again
      to give my brain a treat.
      Smoke fills the air
      and the building burns.

      The news title read.  Cigarette causes a fire.  Cause of death unknown.


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