there is a vastness here
where a small breeze,
the size of a decaying sorrow
wakes the cold again
which may be all that’s left of me.
where a diamond pale haze of stars goes on eternal
like sound that has found a final silent shape
on a black sky where it means everything
It cannot speak off.
it’s empty out here, and cold.
cold enough to reconcile
the frozen cries, the kidnapped voices
and the silences that move
with certain cadaveric contractions
along the frozen emptiness
and In the morning when I look out
the previous evening remains
in its blank, cold, unforgiveness
even though I sang for them in
the eternal extensiveness of
the freezing cold, the stones
still cry with mouths opened wide
while the small icy wind and unsympathetic
moon subdue the apricot flowers,
Now the piercing cold day Is no longer enough
For all comprehension escapes me
suddenly jumps with fury hurling terrible hostilities to the sky,
as wandering ice spirits without homeland
begin to groan with a vast and vacant voice.
And frozen hearses, with muffled drums
and tragic music, slowly pass in my being
conquered, weeping, freezing
this atrocious iced and despotic place
plants its black flag in my soul
Now I do confess through boreal breath
I don’t think I will ever see the
Red Tulips again
In the desperate times I hear it call my name
No, not again please spare me
The horrible, haunting horrors
Like a leech, draining me leaving me with despair
Who is he or she that calls my name
I dare not say, for it haunts me
Lurking in the depths of mind, oh how awful
I could live my life forever in glee,
but when the light fades I’d rather die
Oh God please have mercy, I beg and plead
It begins to attach to me
To my mind sinking to my heart spreading to my limbs
Im hopeless, how can i get rid of this burden
Antagonizing, the pain is physical you can see it in my eyes
Listen carefully making no mistake and you can hear it in my voice
The darkness leers leaving me with tears of sadness
I wouldn't dare wish for it on any innocent soul
For let it devour me after all I must deserve it
For it is a monster that I have created and it only seeks for me
This is my first dark poem.
"Have You ever noticed, that in the words a poem - Poe(m), a poet - Poe(t), poetry - Poe(try), a poetess - Poe(tess) is hidden the last name of the mighty poet and writer Edgar Allan Poe? So, He has to be the greatest master of poetry?" - ©Copyright: Sasha Raven
I long to write
And elegant ballgowns
Something with more meaning
Then simply feeling down
I long to write
Of romeo and Juliet
Symbolic and deeper then most see
Oh thou arent very good with writing
I long to write
Like egar allen poe
Or any inspiration i claim to love
But instead i write of the dead things
That roam through my mind stirring
Pound pound pounding
My mind is constantly aching
She's but a young child
Cry cry crying
For attention she seeks but it keeps dying
Plays and music will not be wrote
Of the things i write
For they are not artistic
They are but a jumbled mess
Never knowing where to place
Now I'm rambling
On and on and on
She goes sad and chaotic
And screaming repetitive words and pleas
I adore the poems and songs
That at face value seem
Like they are about love for another
When truly they ring about darkness
Oh sweet child
Your love keeps thy so warm
But it's breaking into a storm
I watch you try to sleep
Why do you weep?
Dost thou not realize thy beauty?
Stab thy heart into shreds
For i cannot breath without the
But i cannot smile when thy fills my blood with led
Sweet little girl
You have made no sense
Get on your knees and repent
For you will never be
My head was filled with so very mamy words this morning i had to get them all out
I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me
Cried the bleeding man in his last breath
He voided his bowels
The rigor mortis kicking in
And thus began his journey of death
The funeral was closed casket
There wasn’t much left to show
A poem recited
The priest going on
“Darkness there and nothing more”
The years went by, the man’s legacy forgotten
And so did the memories that once seemed so sweet
That’s how it goes
In this dark twisted world
Please stay tuned for some more Sesame Street
I've never been great at poetry;
The process always fails for me.
While mister Poe and Shakespeare last,
My writing ends up in the trash.
Their writing style, lost with age,
Their wisdom hid in ev'ry page,
The glory given where it's due -
These are things I cannot do.
My writing's forced; theirs doth flow.
I say it blunt; they say it slow.
Those areas that bless and move
Are places where I can't improve.
So why, with my lack of skill,
Do I keep on writing still?
With such a hopeless case as this,
You'd think I would already quit!
There was a time when I did -
My desk was shut; my pen was hid.
Then something occurred to me
Which changed it all instantly.
If Dr. Seuss had Shakespeare tried,
And Mr. Poe glorified,
And given up in dismay,
We wouldn't have his books today.
So keep on writing how you do
With that style unique to you.
Put your mind into use
(You just might be another Seuss)!
I’ve loved your *** since the 11th grade. There were a few years when we went our separate ways, in due time we both knew we should of stayed.. Our lives were in ******* shambles.. Each passing day I would gamble, I’d hope, I’d pray.. Maybe I’ll see him this time, *** would I even say?? Hey love, I’ve missed you... Still remember the day when I first kissed you.
I remember 9/11 was a day of much conflict and disarray
But in Reseda, California, we put the egos, pride and ******* at bay..
Shared our dreams, we talked about life, what it’s like without each other and what it all means.. there’s a fine line between love and hate. there’s no madness without love. I don’t really believe in fate. When it comes to matters of the heart there ain’t much you can say
It’s ok, I wouldn’t have it any other way.. cause you’re my man crush everyday
I write about how much he ****** me off all the time..
But there’s a reason why I put up with it
I love him.....