Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Dec 2012 Brynn
Conor O'Leary
she gotta mouth full of poetry.
and a head full of humans.

her night is pacing black
to bright and
back to days
she didn’t feel
like facing.

whisper to the moon
all those crazy stories the sun doesn’t
like.

and live.
lovely.
live.
 Dec 2012 Brynn
Ahmad Cox
Fairies
 Dec 2012 Brynn
Ahmad Cox
Fairies are real
They live wild
In the glens
And in our
Hearts as well
Teaching us
What it means
To revel in joy
If a fairy appears
Don't be alarmed
Fairies can often
Be very good charms
Spreading love
And joy and happiness
To anyone who can see
All you have to do
Is look inside
Find that inner joy
That inner sense
Of play and fun
Finding that
Inner child inside
If you look in
Your heart
And you look
Earnestly
You might be
Lucky to see
A fairy for
Yourself
A fairy is
A wonderful
Friend to be had
Cherish the fairies
In your life
If you do
You will find
An inner well
Of fun and joy
And happy
Energy
Overflowing
And you will
Have enough
Love and Joy
To go around
 Dec 2012 Brynn
Pandora dO
Our dog was the best,
full of joy and so sweet.
It's too bad that you and him
can no longer meet.

He passed away recently,
it's been almost half a year,
but still I can't help crying
all these new tears.

He already had health problems
for quite a long time,
yet he kept going strong
as if he was in his prime.

Three months before his death,
in our lives a pair of ladies entered.
He didn't like them at first,
but eventually he surrendered.

He knew we'd be guarded
even after he'd gone.
That's when he gave in
and when the illness won.

The girls will stand guard
as our Ollie once would,
but holding him close again,
is what I wish I could.
Oh, how I miss him :')
 Dec 2012 Brynn
DieingEmbers
Last night I suffered 90% burns


**** your lips are hot.
 Dec 2012 Brynn
Nick
I need...
 Dec 2012 Brynn
Nick
I need a sight for my sore eyes
I need joy for my broken heart
I need rest for my restless mind
I need peace for my burning soul
I need healing for my unbearable pain
I need belief for my devastating despair
I need an end to my misery
 Dec 2012 Brynn
Byongho Lee
By: Byongho Lee & Alison Masson

Tears drip down the grey sky
A lone child walks home
Her hair, dark as the night
Sullenly does she roam

As the night turns pitch-black
A void figure appears
Cloaked in darkness and decay
Wearing a mask without fear

The specter stretches out a hand
Touching the soft, pale skin
The girl, filled with dread and despair,
Asked softly, like a violin

“What do you want?
I’m just a poor girl.”
My problems burden my shoulders
However, I cannot leave this world

Swift as a rampant blight
The hazy vision grabbed the poor girl’s hair
Darker than the devil’s fright
Escaping to his ominous lair

She wakes from a sound
A loud, repugnant tone
She was wrapped in long, white linen
Her stomach stifling a groan

Slowly, her eyes open
Slowly, see looks around
A strange place, a vacant room
With a dead body on the ground

The room, a hollow, of grey stone walls
A single ray of moon slight shown through the cracks
The castle that surrounded her, full of despair,
Cold as the blade of a murderer’s axe

The door swung open with a terrible bang
“GET UP!”  A man roared, with rage in his eyes
The startled girl could not even speak
After all she had gone through, this was her prize

He dragged her, by the hair, from her bed
And down the stairs to a candle-lit room
With braided rope, he tied her to the mantle
Engulfed in the abyss of encroaching doom

She trembled in fear as she watched the man
Tear up a floor board which then to her revealed
A box of sharpened daggers, ten in all
And at that point, her fate had been sealed

Each scream she screamed, more piercing than the last
As one after another, the knives flew from his hand
Grinning, he watched as the blood poured down
And with each of her cries, his grin grew more grand

He laughed his possessed laugh
His bellowing voice filled the vacant hall
Then he threw his final dagger
Her body, limp, on the blood-stained wall

Removing the binds that relinquished her life
The Madman hauled her with haunted haste
Making his way through a labyrinth of death
To a room that withers with waste

Thousands of skulls occupied the shelves
Uncountable organs were stocked in jars
He tore up her lifeless body, limb from limb
Then stuffed her next to petrified hearts

Dissatisfied by the crumpled form
Of a beautiful girl, now marred
He hacked off the petty head
Her stiff, pale neck forever scarred

Thrusting the head into a glass ***
Filled with water preserving her end
No amount of healing could heal her soul
No amount of life to mend

He cackled as he left the room
Remorse could never pierce his heart
He slammed the wooden door with a terrible bang
His prized collection, a gruesome piece of art

She wakes up from the distant sound
A loud, repugnant tone
Her eyes, soaking in the water,
Sullenly, she waited, alone

Her irises gleamed as she glanced around
Trying to depart her jail
Attempting to feel her fingers, or anything at all,
In terror, she began to flail

The Madman raced back into the room
With an demonic aura flickering with rage
His blazing eyes locked onto hers
Erupting acrimony exploded around her cage

“Silence!” the man roared
However, she refused to stay calm
Burning with a fury, worse than the maw of Hell
He grabbed her head with a grotesque palm

He whirled around through ripples of space
Lifting her head like a stone maul
Enjoying his twisted game
As he ****** her thrashing head at the wall

The thousands of skulls that occupied the room
Tumbled down, one by one
The madman, bewildered and bemused,
Became ever so shaken as he spun

One after another, they struck his body
Still laughter left his lips
For the thousands of skulls that rained from above him
Buried him alive as he tripped

The Madman’s body, entombed under his victims,
Forever to lie restless with his foes
Since he yielded to no guilt nor remorse
Forever shall he be sealed in his hollow
This is a gothic poem I had to write for my english class. If you noticed a difference in style, that is because my friend and I took turns writing it. I don't like writing gothic poems because I feel they are very dark, but I like the detail in gothic poems.
Next page