Here is a list of Dark Poetry Poems ordered by Most Commented, posted by members. Read poetry, post your own poems or comments. Poems on these pages are copyrighted © by the authors who entered them. Click here to post a poem.
Feeling in the Mood
I felt it. My heart speeding up. The tingling going thru my whole body. It had been so long since I had this sensation.
I could just give into the temptation.
But I try to rein myself in. Knowing it is about to escape and run loose for the world to see. Oh my I cannot let that be.
My heart is pounding like rain on a tin roof. The quick pitter patter. I turn to you and I speak calmly. Looking you directly in the eye. You see there the truth.
But you choose to ignore. And go on your way. Big mistake. It is not your day.
I pounce on you with the venom of a rabid dog. Now you see. You should not have pushed me.
All the rage I have felt and fought for so long. Was trying to escape. I was trying to keep it in. To let it go like this would just be wrong.
I make my way to my car and close the door. Start the engine I let it purr not roar.
But me I was in a full roar. Just barely left you in time.
If you think I scared you. You should have been me.
I was scared of this new side of me.
I went home and thought, and I knew.
Even though you were wrong I was too.
The way I let the anger envelope me.
Should never be.
I could just give into the temptation.
But I try to rein myself in. Knowing it is about to escape and run loose for the world to see. Oh my I cannot let that be.
My heart is pounding like rain on a tin roof. The quick pitter patter. I turn to you and I speak calmly. Looking you directly in the eye. You see there the truth.
But you choose to ignore. And go on your way. Big mistake. It is not your day.
I pounce on you with the venom of a rabid dog. Now you see. You should not have pushed me.
All the rage I have felt and fought for so long. Was trying to escape. I was trying to keep it in. To let it go like this would just be wrong.
I make my way to my car and close the door. Start the engine I let it purr not roar.
But me I was in a full roar. Just barely left you in time.
If you think I scared you. You should have been me.
I was scared of this new side of me.
I went home and thought, and I knew.
Even though you were wrong I was too.
The way I let the anger envelope me.
Should never be.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2010
About this poem:
Do not stuff anger for long periods of time. Mental note to self.I'm A Ghost
I'm a ghost,
you walk right through me.
I wish I could feel you,
that brief second we are one.
Or know what you are thinking.
When your mind,
passes through mine.
And what you are seeing,
when our eyes are inline
Is it me?
Couldn't be,
I'm a ghost.
You see right through me.
you walk right through me.
I wish I could feel you,
that brief second we are one.
Or know what you are thinking.
When your mind,
passes through mine.
And what you are seeing,
when our eyes are inline
Is it me?
Couldn't be,
I'm a ghost.
You see right through me.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2010
Post Comment
Pestilence
It isn't at all
Very hard to remember
The first time it was seen
In sickly heaves and shudders
From sighs and groans of the Earth
Like Pandemonium rising in the depths of Hell
A new terrestrial architecture approaches
Like violently spawned mountains
Formed by the colliding masses
These walls, these gates
Though not simply rock
Rise up against each other
Seemingly assembled yet toppling
Falling half over again as they rise
Onto itself, and rising up again
Nigh unto the heavens they go
A self-propagating shame in madness
Green fields and pasture are slowly consumed
By the slow but tenacious upheaving soil
As if forced to vomit buried secrets
By some vengeful cosmic emetic
Come now to wage Justice
With familiar, cryptic images
Made the worse by their suddenness
The nature of their appearance here, now
Regardless to apparent sickening disfigurement:
Behold! These symbolic castles of humankind!
Concrete and steel first produced there
Brick and block soon there, up, forced
Twisted materials slowly forming
The common sights with which we know
But twisted beyond normality in any sense-
A hospital, it slowly was made, in some mystery
Somewhere from under the soil, pushed into reality
But dark and broken, crumbling bricks birthed upwards
Gathering darkness in the clouds and sky above
It's ugliness broke first on dawn's horizon
Seeping, too, as it grew, oil and filth
From each of it's window and doors
And smoke from out it's roof
Broken, damaged, in every aspect
A symbol of help, of hope, of mercy
Slowly and constant it creeps out by hours
Decimating around it all to which it makes contact
It grows, it grows! Like sickly urban sprawl, everywhere
Unceasingly, into the city, it's masonry tendrils take hold
And there is no relief to be had, and no one to make any stand
Against such twistedness- A unknown surrealist's disease
Against the ghost of the dead, of the phantasm of war
It churns, higher and higher, it's infirmary towers
And, now, and again that vulgar seeping tar flows
A thick and choking blackness insistent to pour
Sometimes instead darkly crimson as if blood
And then once more blacker than night
It is the precursor to the advancing hell
Which has come to seek who knows what souls-
For those whose apathy offered the opportunity
Or who motivated the impressionable to take up action
For those who willfully disbanded community just to fight
Or for all of those whom attempted to keep it at bay
Without so much as thought for their dear fellows
Who for them and all the others risked lives
No one knows what madness has caused it
Or if it crawls forth with purpose
All they know is that perhaps
They must deserve this
And have no power
To stop it
Very hard to remember
The first time it was seen
In sickly heaves and shudders
From sighs and groans of the Earth
Like Pandemonium rising in the depths of Hell
A new terrestrial architecture approaches
Like violently spawned mountains
Formed by the colliding masses
These walls, these gates
Though not simply rock
Rise up against each other
Seemingly assembled yet toppling
Falling half over again as they rise
Onto itself, and rising up again
Nigh unto the heavens they go
A self-propagating shame in madness
Green fields and pasture are slowly consumed
By the slow but tenacious upheaving soil
As if forced to vomit buried secrets
By some vengeful cosmic emetic
Come now to wage Justice
With familiar, cryptic images
Made the worse by their suddenness
The nature of their appearance here, now
Regardless to apparent sickening disfigurement:
Behold! These symbolic castles of humankind!
Concrete and steel first produced there
Brick and block soon there, up, forced
Twisted materials slowly forming
The common sights with which we know
But twisted beyond normality in any sense-
A hospital, it slowly was made, in some mystery
Somewhere from under the soil, pushed into reality
But dark and broken, crumbling bricks birthed upwards
Gathering darkness in the clouds and sky above
It's ugliness broke first on dawn's horizon
Seeping, too, as it grew, oil and filth
From each of it's window and doors
And smoke from out it's roof
Broken, damaged, in every aspect
A symbol of help, of hope, of mercy
Slowly and constant it creeps out by hours
Decimating around it all to which it makes contact
It grows, it grows! Like sickly urban sprawl, everywhere
Unceasingly, into the city, it's masonry tendrils take hold
And there is no relief to be had, and no one to make any stand
Against such twistedness- A unknown surrealist's disease
Against the ghost of the dead, of the phantasm of war
It churns, higher and higher, it's infirmary towers
And, now, and again that vulgar seeping tar flows
A thick and choking blackness insistent to pour
Sometimes instead darkly crimson as if blood
And then once more blacker than night
It is the precursor to the advancing hell
Which has come to seek who knows what souls-
For those whose apathy offered the opportunity
Or who motivated the impressionable to take up action
For those who willfully disbanded community just to fight
Or for all of those whom attempted to keep it at bay
Without so much as thought for their dear fellows
Who for them and all the others risked lives
No one knows what madness has caused it
Or if it crawls forth with purpose
All they know is that perhaps
They must deserve this
And have no power
To stop it
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Apr 2010
About this poem:
Pretty long-winded.I wrote a story about this concept, and this is something of a recap on the general premise.
The idea, originally, was of all these destroyed buildings, reminiscent of bombed warzones, which would rise our of the ground, half demolished, but larger than ever, seeping oil and tar, smoking as if on fire, unexplained, across the land, destroying whole landscapes and cities.
The idea, of course, was some kind of supernatural justice against the world's inability to solve problems- Taking the form of the exact imagery war has caused, and yet somehow worse, darker, more abysmal, and inescapable as it consumed country, city, nations whole, slowly, slowly.
This is somewhat of a constraint, as I've forced the writing into a kind of wave- Ideas expressed must be shorter, shorter, shorter, longer, longer, longer, switch, switch back, in form. 'Wave' form, if you will! lol
If You Were My Angel
Woke up today in the still light of dawn
With my mind gone astray and the radio on
Then I picked out the mask I would wear for the day
And I cast myself into this same awful play
And the people of faces I see are the dark
Like the wet side of riverside rocks in the park
I finesse my way through and I swallow my screams
But they're all shreds of bitter-root bark in my dreams
But if you were my angel I know that I would
Claw my way back from this neck of my woods
Then I'd try to climb down from this razor-wire fence
Yes if you were my angel, it would all make some sense
Fail to plan, plan to fail, isn't that what they say
So I plan to wear blisters the rest of my days
Where the rough side of everything real rubs me raw
'Till I'm tempted to put my own neck to the saw
But if you were my angel I know I'd calm down
And I wouldn't daydream about breaking the ground
With the hammer I stole from the God of distress
Yes if you were my angel I'd clean up this mess
With my mind gone astray and the radio on
Then I picked out the mask I would wear for the day
And I cast myself into this same awful play
And the people of faces I see are the dark
Like the wet side of riverside rocks in the park
I finesse my way through and I swallow my screams
But they're all shreds of bitter-root bark in my dreams
But if you were my angel I know that I would
Claw my way back from this neck of my woods
Then I'd try to climb down from this razor-wire fence
Yes if you were my angel, it would all make some sense
Fail to plan, plan to fail, isn't that what they say
So I plan to wear blisters the rest of my days
Where the rough side of everything real rubs me raw
'Till I'm tempted to put my own neck to the saw
But if you were my angel I know I'd calm down
And I wouldn't daydream about breaking the ground
With the hammer I stole from the God of distress
Yes if you were my angel I'd clean up this mess
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Feb 2010
About this poem:
Women should be able to identify with this poem easily. I worked with a man who based all of his hideous behavior on the fact that the woman of his choosing wanted nothing to do with him. I wrote the poem as if I was speaking from his perspective, but the man was in every way repulsive, I'm very glad that I am not him!
Ankara
I wait as others wait...struggling to see...and to find release....
Those words have haunted me,
Chasing me as I dream.
This soul is ancient as all time,
Knowing no reason but what Ankara deems.
I've known this soul before,
Submitted willingly to his requests.
Been obedient to his love and knowledge.
Ankara is restless and in pain,
Yet I know I cannot soothe.
His soul and mine are not destined,
To reach in this here and now.
Yet, gladly I would steal one golden hour,
Away from time.
And wrap my wings around him,
And caress this soul.
Ease the pain that Ankara carries within,
Shield him from more, in that golden hour.
Each second blending into minutes,
I see unfolding before me, what our souls have been.
Ankara knows my name,
Yet I must not know mine, due to my shame.
For this here and now is my lesson,
My pain.
The golden hour passes and releasing,
Ankara from me, I set him free.
Waiting sadly, yet gladly, knowing
That Ankara knows my soul.
Knows that his pains is,
But a moment in the eternity of time.
I know our souls will meet,
When destiny has decided,
That my lesson has been learned.
Those words have haunted me,
Chasing me as I dream.
This soul is ancient as all time,
Knowing no reason but what Ankara deems.
I've known this soul before,
Submitted willingly to his requests.
Been obedient to his love and knowledge.
Ankara is restless and in pain,
Yet I know I cannot soothe.
His soul and mine are not destined,
To reach in this here and now.
Yet, gladly I would steal one golden hour,
Away from time.
And wrap my wings around him,
And caress this soul.
Ease the pain that Ankara carries within,
Shield him from more, in that golden hour.
Each second blending into minutes,
I see unfolding before me, what our souls have been.
Ankara knows my name,
Yet I must not know mine, due to my shame.
For this here and now is my lesson,
My pain.
The golden hour passes and releasing,
Ankara from me, I set him free.
Waiting sadly, yet gladly, knowing
That Ankara knows my soul.
Knows that his pains is,
But a moment in the eternity of time.
I know our souls will meet,
When destiny has decided,
That my lesson has been learned.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Sep 2010
About this poem:
Dream poem
Larkspur
Through the half closed teak wood door
Hypersensitive, shy moon's light surpassed,
Oh beauty, Holding the dream whilst thy bath
What is in thy mind?
Filled with unending desire
Drenched in the lake of shyness
Attracting desire to thy tenebrous womb
In the last hour of night
You espied a relentless ride;
Arum flower witnessed the holy act....
Committing the act thy decided to hide
My Friend, hiding finger's touched thy space
The economics of need can't be undarkened
A clover was offered at thy feet
Awaiting thy response, days surpassed
The courier of dream hath come
Putting an end to the endless wait
Shocked at the earthly present,
A tide hit the chambers of pride
'Goose-foot' was thy answer
Hypersensitive, shy moon's light surpassed,
Oh beauty, Holding the dream whilst thy bath
What is in thy mind?
Filled with unending desire
Drenched in the lake of shyness
Attracting desire to thy tenebrous womb
In the last hour of night
You espied a relentless ride;
Arum flower witnessed the holy act....
Committing the act thy decided to hide
My Friend, hiding finger's touched thy space
The economics of need can't be undarkened
A clover was offered at thy feet
Awaiting thy response, days surpassed
The courier of dream hath come
Putting an end to the endless wait
Shocked at the earthly present,
A tide hit the chambers of pride
'Goose-foot' was thy answer
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Sep 2010
About this poem:
....!The Crippled Wise Old Man Said.....
"The wise old man said..'there are two types of anger my friend, explosive and implosive'....don't riddle with me wise man I said, get to the point and be narrative, explain yourself, stop being evasive..
"I am a wise man for a reason, so please be patient with me...you'll be better off in life if you just listen to me, wait and see"...
"Such impatience for one so young, you remind me of me, carried me a gun in my waist, wanted to put the world to right, my gun, my self ritious attitude and me"
"Go ahead then wise old man, fill me with your history, don't nibble on the barrel, pull the trigger and let me hear your tall story"
"Okay young buck, here it is...went to McDonald's on a day when I was penniless, brave, stupid and absolutely fearless"
"I want a Big Mac just like in the picture, all plump and full with all the trimmings, don't scam with a bun with a gurhkin and soggy fillings"
"Here you are sir, that'll be £2.99, as he handed me a carton, anything else for you sir..'no..that'll be just fine"
"Opened me the box, what the hell is this i said..it's flat as a pancake, it's nothing like the picture, there's no shape to it, where's the big thick burger, and the juicy tomato and relish that go's with it?
"Pulled my gun from my waist and demanded to speak to Ronald McDonald, and not the management..wanted justice, fairness, a burger not a waffle"
"I'm sorry sir but Ronalds gone home, the cheeky little bugger said..All i had was a feeling to shoot this pointless squirt in the middle of his forehead"
"A struggle ensued with me and son of Ronald...we fall to the floor, the gun go's off, I moaned and groaned, just like in the picture, i wanted a McDonald's....
"So here I am young Buck, crippled for life and wheelchairbound, for that bullet shot through my spine...justice was served of course for my stupid fearless act of crime...and since that day I swore to myself and made a lifelong pact....
If you want a big fat burger, make it yourself.......
"I am a wise man for a reason, so please be patient with me...you'll be better off in life if you just listen to me, wait and see"...
"Such impatience for one so young, you remind me of me, carried me a gun in my waist, wanted to put the world to right, my gun, my self ritious attitude and me"
"Go ahead then wise old man, fill me with your history, don't nibble on the barrel, pull the trigger and let me hear your tall story"
"Okay young buck, here it is...went to McDonald's on a day when I was penniless, brave, stupid and absolutely fearless"
"I want a Big Mac just like in the picture, all plump and full with all the trimmings, don't scam with a bun with a gurhkin and soggy fillings"
"Here you are sir, that'll be £2.99, as he handed me a carton, anything else for you sir..'no..that'll be just fine"
"Opened me the box, what the hell is this i said..it's flat as a pancake, it's nothing like the picture, there's no shape to it, where's the big thick burger, and the juicy tomato and relish that go's with it?
"Pulled my gun from my waist and demanded to speak to Ronald McDonald, and not the management..wanted justice, fairness, a burger not a waffle"
"I'm sorry sir but Ronalds gone home, the cheeky little bugger said..All i had was a feeling to shoot this pointless squirt in the middle of his forehead"
"A struggle ensued with me and son of Ronald...we fall to the floor, the gun go's off, I moaned and groaned, just like in the picture, i wanted a McDonald's....
"So here I am young Buck, crippled for life and wheelchairbound, for that bullet shot through my spine...justice was served of course for my stupid fearless act of crime...and since that day I swore to myself and made a lifelong pact....
If you want a big fat burger, make it yourself.......
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jun 2010
About this poem:
Hi People, just a tongue in cheek tale ....food in pictures never look like that in a carton box do they...
Writers were meant to be lonely
Alone in a tavern the writer needed to be.
Happiness leaking into his glass,
feeding his writers dreams.
The goodness in life did not aspire,
and neither did his marriage of last.
So here he is again making history,
In the pub trying to swallow his past.
Happiness leaking into his glass,
feeding his writers dreams.
The goodness in life did not aspire,
and neither did his marriage of last.
So here he is again making history,
In the pub trying to swallow his past.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jul 2010
About this poem:
I wrote it at the pub.
Real and fake
Real and fake
True and false
In this world
Real can be fake
Fake can be true
True can be false
False can be true
When real is regarded as fake
Fake become real
When false is regarded as true
True become false
What can we do?
True and false
In this world
Real can be fake
Fake can be true
True can be false
False can be true
When real is regarded as fake
Fake become real
When false is regarded as true
True become false
What can we do?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jul 2010
About this poem:
hope those fake ones don't bother me again and again...
Sweet Orchid sp. Genus unknown
In silence I drew my pencil
I engaged
I saw for what this was
then
my eyes did seek and there
a spacious paragraph
blinded
I had no reprieve
explosion
well noted
a drawn hesitation within colliding
the stems thirsting
a flower freshly painted
the same wondrous colorful beauty
as time wraps its sweet scent
is this still me?
of that is grown forth from me
I saw and touched all the seasons
the color of life
I so wanted to caress all that was unique
bath with you in the radiance of of warm waters
I knew the sudden brightness
no forgiveness for the darkenss
as that is what drew such beauty, upon itself
I have not waited for you
as I have never known you
"So whom ever you are"
I'm also that to you
I engaged
I saw for what this was
then
my eyes did seek and there
a spacious paragraph
blinded
I had no reprieve
explosion
well noted
a drawn hesitation within colliding
the stems thirsting
a flower freshly painted
the same wondrous colorful beauty
as time wraps its sweet scent
is this still me?
of that is grown forth from me
I saw and touched all the seasons
the color of life
I so wanted to caress all that was unique
bath with you in the radiance of of warm waters
I knew the sudden brightness
no forgiveness for the darkenss
as that is what drew such beauty, upon itself
I have not waited for you
as I have never known you
"So whom ever you are"
I'm also that to you
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jul 2010
About this poem:
http://www.amazilia.net/images/Plants/Orchids/Orchid_sp6_Ecuador.htmJust a feeling deep down
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