This page is specially prepared for dark poems. You can reach newest and popular dark poems from this page. You can vote and comment on the dark poems you read.
With You In My Life
My Life was a book of empty pages,
Some shredded in rages,
Others crayoned in black,
Proof how my life was a wreck.
If you have forgotten water lilies floating
On a dark lake among mountains in the afternoon shade,
If you have forgotten their wet, sleepy fragrance,
Then you can return and not be afraid.
The room is full of you!-As I came in
And closed the door behind me, all at once
A something in the air, intangible,
Yet stiff with meaning, struck my senses sick!-
Edna St. Vincent Millay
My Super Man
In the dreams I dream
Only you visible in thee
My perfect human
With a pale skin you were handsomely made
While it flawlessly divines itself during the shine and the rain,
All the while it stands boldly upright;
Keeping the thought of being colossal away,
While people are trying to bring it down;
She sought to breathe one word, but vainly;
Too many listeners were nigh;
And yet my timid glance read plainly
The language of her speaking eye.
Rain On Me
Dry as a dessert i am
Would you rain on me once again
I chased you down the dark corridor
I couldn't find you
Machineel In A Cassock
The guiltless shepherd
is a collared machineel in a cassock
He bears pretty tasty apples
That accord him innocent and benovelent looks
Do memories last forever?
This thought runs through the mind of thinkers.
Memories are destined to fade,
But your most important memories,
A snake came to my water-trough
On a hot, hot day, and I in pyjamas for the heat,
To drink there.
In the deep, strange-scented shade of the great dark carob-tree
D. H. Lawrence
That was a curious dream; I thought the three
Great planets that are drawing near the sun
With such unerring certainty begun
To talk together in a mighty glee.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
War With Myself
"No, please, stop, I don't want to go over this again", but it said
"just one more, it wouldn't strain a muscle. It's not the first time remember?"
How sad i gave into desires, known to my soul as unclean
Raped by my urges. Lonliness, shame, disgust, worthlessness are what I know.
The dreams escape outdoors when your minds winddows are opened by the eclipse of the dark , dance fashioned in vivid neon rainbow colors on the white walls ,get wrinkled on the object that stand inside your bedroom but can they come true … in the present time and place ?
A Winter Night
When biting Boreas, fell and doure,
Sharp shivers thro' the leafless bow'r;
When Phœbus gies a short-liv'd glow'r,
Far south the lift,
A Smuggler’s Song
If you wake at midnight, and hear a horse's feet,
Don't go drawing back the blind, or looking in the street.
Them that ask no questions isn't told a lie.
Watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by!
Sitting alone that night
Trying hide her fright
Pulling her sleeves
thinking if the demons ever leave
When skeptically he bellied on back to the arid sea
To escape the spirited insurgency from disgruntled land owners
The alligator did not shut out his rule
It knew it lived by the bereavement of other creatures
Behind him lay the gray Azores,
Behind the Gates of Hercules;
Before him not the ghost of shores,
Before him only shoreless seas.
Where and what is silence ?
In the stillness of nature,
In the dark night with the glowing moon,
In the cold grave,
The knight came home from the quest,
Muddied and sore he came.
Battered of shield and crest,
Bannerless, bruised and lame.
Three times I had the lust to kill,
To clutch a throat so young and fair,
And squeeze with all my might until
No breath of being lingered there.
In The Bayou
Lazy and slow, through the snags and trees
Move the sluggish currents, half asleep;
Around and between the cypress knees,
Like black, slow snakes the dark tides creep-
Wave Of Tears
The water that silently moves to the shore
reminds me of what I used to live for.
The sleepless nights
created the fire that burns, but never lights.
Iam A Poet
Iam a poet
i have been writing for a while
for both the black and white,
of late none of my literature
The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard
And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,
Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.
And from there those that lifted eyes could count
When a man starts out with nothing,
When a man starts out with his hands
Empty, but clean,
When a man starts to build a world,
The Slave Dealer
From ocean's wave a Wanderer came,
With visage tanned and dun:
His Mother, when he told his name,
Scarce knew her long-lost son;
An Eastern Ballad
I speak of love that comes to mind:
The moon is faithful, although blind;
She moves in thought she cannot speak.
Perfect care has made her bleak.
IT is not to be thought of that the Flood
Of British freedom, which, to the open sea
Of the world's praise, from dark antiquity
Hath flowed, 'with pomp of waters, unwithstood,'
Mon Reve Familier [english]
Oft do I dream this strange and penetrating dream:
An unknown woman, whom I love, who loves me well,
Who does not every time quite change, nor yet quite dwell
The same,-and loves me well, and knows me as I am.
A Hand Axe
I know not a hand axe,
Cathartic is my poetry and rhyme.
I pen in the darkness,
when my sun sets in the east.
The Sack Of The Gods
Strangers drawn from the ends of the earth, jewelled and plumed were we;
I was Lord of the Inca race, and she was Queen of the Sea.
Under the stars beyond our stars where the new-forged meteors glow,
Hotly we stormed Valhalla, a million years ago!
Song Of Myself
I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
Little By Little
“Little by little,” an acorn said,
As it slowly sank in its mossy bed,
“I am improving every day,
Hidden deep in the earth away.”
Almost Lost My Love.
Its a pretty day today, I love days like these because the cold soothing wind that blows is a reminder of you being by my side no matter what comes. The clouds that shelter me from the sun remind me of how the thought of you keeps all the dark memories away. The slight rain feels like your kisses filled with love and compassion making me sure of good and kindness in this world
But today isn't a pretty day although it's like the ones i look forward to the most, but just like most things i ruined it.
The clouds are darker than i remember and the thougts they bring darker still.
The slight rain mirrors my eyes and no matter how much the clouds and I cry we cant wash my guilt away.
People Like Candles
*PEOPLE LIKE CANDLES*
*"The world would have been a better domicile to dwell in, if our impediments are equally solved. But nay, some are like candles"* *paciolo pen saint*
Paciolo Pen Saint