"darren" poems
(This poem doesn't belong to me. The rightful owner is the author Darren Shan who wrote the Demonata and the Cirque du Freak book series. This poem is from his first book of the Demonata book series: Lord Loss.)
Lord loss sows all the sorrows of the world, lord loss seeds the grief starched trees
In the center of the web lowly lord loss bows his head
Mangled hands, naked eyes
Fanged snakes his soul line
Curled inside like texture sin
****** curdle sheets for skin
In the center of the web vile lord loss torments the dead
Over strands of red, lord loss crawls
Dispensing pain, despising all
Shuns friends, nurtures foes
Ravages hope, breeds woe
Drinks moons, devours suns
Twirls his thumbs till the reaper comes
In the center of the web Lush Lord Loss is all that is left.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 12:19 PM UTC
Oh deep, dark depression,
my uninvited guest,
the persistence of oppression
is precluding my life’s zest.
The dark before sunrise
of a dawn that just won't break,
suppressed by a thirst for my soul
that only sorrow can now slake.
The wisps that you are weaving
are clouding my damp eyes,
a cold and cloying shroud
that’s covering all that I desire.
A void, with sides so steeply etched
and burning with cold dread,
I’m trembling now with fragile fear
and wondering if I dare tread.
Your shadow wraps me in its arms
to hold me once again,
a old familiar friend
that’s feeding fast upon my pain.
A symbiotic succor
and reluctant shield of sighs
from the turmoil of a life
that turned to tears before my eyes.
And the sleep within my veins
now washes over silent souls,
a mind numbing response
to a desperate, lonely call.
I’m crying out from within the prison
of this decaying fragile frame
and I hide my face behind a smile
from relentless passionate pain.
Oh deep, dark depression,
my uninvited guest,
the darkness you are dealing
leaves my soul with little rest.
Now your fog has engulfed me
to the edges of my world,
I hope and pray that one day soon,
my wings will be unfurled.
Written by Darren Scanlon, 2nd June 2014.
Revised 20th August 2015.
©2014 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 6:59 PM UTC
It was a glorious night for a moonlit flight
On Barry my Big Berkshire Boar
Huffing and puffing like flying was nothing
Over the treetops we’d soar
Well I never knew, that other pigs flew
As Darren came circling down
Sat proud on top his Gloucester Old Spot
Wow! What a wonderful sow
I’m sure I can claim that Darren was the same
As his jaw nearly dropped to the ground
For Darren and I, had pigs that could fly
And you don’t really see that around
“Hey your pig flies!” Darren wailed with surprise
“And we only just met for a drink”
“I didn't know you, had a flying pig too
Just what would the other guys think!?”
So we soon made a pact, with our secret intact
Everything worked out just fine
Now we’re both out at night, when the weather is right
Racing our rare flying swine!
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 6:27 AM UTC
Have you ever heard the tale
about the hedgehog with no spikes,
such a sweet little boy
who all the other’s didn’t like?
A case of alopecia,
there was nothing they could do,
such a sad little hedgehog
who cried and cried, “Boo-Hoo”.
But soon the lad grew older,
he wanted to look more lush
so onto his back he tied himself
a little scrubbing brush.
His friends, well they just laughed at him
and bullied him all the more,
until one day, he'd had enough
and walked out through the door.
For years not much was heard of him,
his mother, she did fret
for she’d heard about the busy roads
and trouble, in which, he could get.
But life had turned out fine for him
and soon he’d found a place
where he could earn a little living
and put smiles on many a face.
Within the railway station
with his brush upon his back,
a jumping and a jiggling till
the queue would start to clap.
People travelled from miles around
just to come and watch the show,
their trips no longer boring
they would leave with faces aglow.
But what’s the hedgehog doing
to make the people come to see?
What makes them laugh and cheer
and fills their hearts with so much glee?
You've never seen a shoe shine stall
with such a special knack,
for the owner was a dancing hedgehog
with a brush upon his back!
*
Written by Darren Scanlon, 3rd January 2014
Revised 26th August 2015.
Artwork by Angie Caira.
© 2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.
Aug 26, 2015
Aug 26, 2015 at 2:31 PM UTC
You'll often see them running
and chasing across the plains,
a rabbit skipping and laughing
at an eagle, in great pains.
But why's the eagle running,
surely he can fly?
Sadly he’s afraid of heights
and frightened he may die.
An eagle that can't fly,
well surely that's not right,
it's just like having an owl
who won't come out at night.
But then one day the rabbit stopped
and said, “I've had enough”,
he waited for the eagle
who by now was out of puff.
“Why can you not fly my friend,
there must be a better way,
all this running so doing you in,
especially twice a day”.
“I will not fly and I'll tell you why”,
the eagle had stopped for a rest,
“I have a horrible fear of heights,
since I fell from my mother’s nest”.
“It’s ok for you just sitting there,
chewing on your carrot
but just you try catching
a pigeon or a parrot!”
“Well why don't you just change your food;
try veggies for a while?”
The eagle replied, “Are you serious?”
and couldn't help but smile.
“It’s not as daft as you may think;
it's clever, if I may say,
it'll save you all the running around,
veggies can't run away!”
The eagle thought and with a grin
ran off as fast as fast as he could.
“Where are you going?” the rabbit called.
“I’m off to find some spuds!”
Written by Darren Scanlon, 4th January 2014.
Revised 18th July 2015.
© 2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 9:05 AM UTC
Trembling hands grasping bow,
Flowers laid on ground below,
Candles burnt and tears flow,
Balloons in hand, we let them go,
Glass remains amongst the tree,
Bark stripped back, in memory,
Stories shared for all to see,
High emotion, running free,
The sun descends in golden sky,
I feel your presence walking by,
Fading son caught my eye,
Waving back, he said Good bye.
By Darren Wall
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 3:56 PM UTC
I'm hidden by barriers
That you cannot see
I'm trapped and alone
But you can see me
I'm muted by noise
That you cannot hear
My screams fall silent
I'm frozen in fear
The pressure builds
My mind is racing
You fail to see
The struggles I'm facing
The room is spinning
My heart's beating fast
Thoughts creeping in
How long will they last?
I sit here vacant
I'm traumatised
I failed to answer
You.... recognised
Pounding your desk
Screaming my name
Jumbled words
Repeating again
I don't know the answer
I want to reply, but..
I keep blanking out
I can't explain why
In front of the class
You call out my name
"I've told you twice..
I'm not explaining again!"
I'm hidden by the barriers
That you cannot see
I'm trapped and alone
Until quarter past three
By Darren Wall
Jan 29, 2024
Jan 29, 2024 at 2:31 PM UTC
Somewhere in between
the waking and the dream,
I can feel you close to me.
Just before times hands
reshape the desert sands,
I can feel you reach for me.
In the blink of tear stained eyes,
watching weary to the skies,
I can see you cry for me.
In the breaking of the dawn,
in the dew upon the lawn,
I can see you smile for me.
In the bright rays of the sun,
in the new day just begun,
I can feel you warming me.
In the beating of my heart,
that once was torn apart,
I can feel you healing me.
In the shadow of the past,
from the dawn unto the last,
I can hear you call for me.
As I take my last deep breath,
as I fear the grip of death,
will you please just wait for me?
Written by Darren Scanlon, April 2013.
This revised version written 15th March 2015.
©2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 10:48 AM UTC
So there’s a girl across the street
A girl to whom he’s grown accrete
A girl he’s just to scared to greet
But yet still he sits and hopes
You see she’s in love with Darren
However Darren’s in love with Karen
And Karen sits and stares at Bob, who’s probably gay, probably not,
But still he drools over Linda,
Who’s stare is blank and barren,
Pointed at the anti-nerd, football loving, guru Darren.
Yes it’s really that simple,
Forget love triangle, more love enneadecagon,
Gone,
That reminds him, as it hits his head like a hadron,
Gone,
Are his hopes of him and the girl across the street.
Her features to him, were long developed similes,
They came to his brain, seamlessly, chemically,
Of course he’s never express these feelings formally,
But to him they acted as a soothing love remedy.
Her eyes were golden like caramelised sugar,
Or the enticing qualities of slowly melting butter,
Each eye, a galaxy waiting to be discovered,
And yes he means the chocolate bar.
Her hair is crimson like strawberry laces,
Which reminds him of the disadvantages of having braces,
But he braces himself as though it’s his duty,
Braces himself for an overwhelming amount of beauty.
She talks to him about all the awful things that guys do,
She then says she wishes that more guys were like you,
She says she wants that guy to show up this year,
But what she doesn’t see, is that that he’s standing right here.
So there’s a guy across the street
A guy to whom she’s grown accrete
A guy she’s just to scared to greet
But yet still she sits and hopes
You see he’s in love with her neighbour,
A chore that she knows can be a labour,
Yet she knows she can be the saviour,
Because she is even greater
So one day to no surprise, he’s looking out with eager eyes, they lock eyes, butterflies, quite surprised, more butterflies, they remain like that til sunrise, emotions start to normalise, then fluctuate because of those **** butterflies.
So there’s a girl across the street
A girl to whom he’s grown accrete
A girl he wasn’t scared to meet
And now they live and bond
Because that girls in love with Darren,
However Darren’s in love with Karen,
But who cares,
They have each other for the rest of their days
And beyond.
Feb 5, 2019
Feb 5, 2019 at 10:57 AM UTC
The ground is covered with snow.
There is ice on all the plants
like stone flowers.
(by Darren)
The frost is cold.
Spiky blades of grass
crackle under your feet.
(by Peter)
The sky is black,
the moon shines on the ice,
the ice is silver.
(by Sarah)
Aug 19, 2017
Aug 19, 2017 at 12:28 PM UTC
The money and the power
fit like hand in glove,
manipulating our lives
with hands soaked in blood.
Like pawns on a chessboard
we follow their commands,
cleverly manipulated
by cold corporate minds.
They reap a tainted harvest
bought with sleeping souls,
their purses bulging
as they play out their roles.
Prancing about in their
huge stately homes,
costumes adorned
with skulls and bones.
Masonic handshakes
get you into their halls,
where horrors unfold
amidst terrified calls.
And way down here
on the creaking boards,
another pawn is lost
to the bloodthirsty hoard.
Their veils are returned
as they cover the loss.
Another family bereft,
must recover the cost.
*
Written by Darren Scanlon, 2nd march 2015.
Revised 2nd October 2015.
©2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.
Oct 3, 2015
Oct 3, 2015 at 7:08 PM UTC
The stains upon the bar
tell of many sad tales
of love, loss and tragic lives;
and drink to drown out the wails.
Another washed out soul
seeks the solace of the glass,
to wash away the memory
of another broken pass.
Another wheeler-dealer,
another gambling god,
another weary player
bet his life upon the sod.
The rings around his eyes
mark the toll of tell tale signs,
the vacant stare, unshaven chin,
you read between the lines.
Just one more shot to dull the sting
of a life that’s breaking down,
another drink to hide the lines
of another washed out frown.
He staggers out
onto harsh lit streets,
head gently spinning
on unsteady feet.
He knows that it's near,
he can hear the call,
just over the road
and down past the mall.
Shuffling along
with an unsteady gait,
cell phone ringing,
who cares, it can wait.
Eyes now blind
behind stinging tears
but it's not enough
to allay his fears.
And there it is
in a hazy dream,
a small footbridge
over a lazy stream.
He grips the rails
with trembling hands,
there’s no point telling her,
she won't understand.
Then just for a moment
he catches a glimpse
in the soft flowing waters
and it makes him wince,
for the wretch that he sees
is not the man that he knows;
there’s a stranger staring back
from dark waters below.
With a shuddering sigh
and with tears streaming down,
he's leaning over;
feet leaving the ground.
For a moment he's flying,
so alive and so free,
he’s no longer afraid,
just a strange kind of glee.
He doesn't feel the water
as it closes overhead,
he doesn't feel the chill
for his soul has already fled.
Written by Darren Scanlon, 25th November 2013.
Revised 12th July 2015.
© 2013 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 11:02 PM UTC
You took a sip of my pain,
And mocked your fellow man.
Take the whole bottle-
Let's see if your
Still standing
Man
By Darren Wall ©
Sep 10, 2024
Sep 10, 2024 at 3:05 AM UTC
The hero of mine
My closest kin
Protector of fear
Where do I begin?
A mind of books
A wild story teller
Helping me sleep
Brothers bestseller
You took me away
On the high seas
We fought armies
Bullies and Thieves
I idolised you brother
Always by your side
Bikes from the shed
We'd go out for a ride
Long summer nights
Watching the skies
Satellites passing
Stars filled our eyes
But...
Youth escaped us
We were no longer free
The weight of life
Came down on me
The sun didn't shine
The shadows grew long
I searched for you
I tried to be strong
I missed your stories
I needed you brother
We drifted apart
From one another
I tried to reach you
But silence befalls
Keeping me out
Surrounded by walls
Ten long years
Since I saw you last
Only memories remain
Left long in the past
I really don't want
Our story to end
But our bond is..
Too fragile to mend
By Darren Wall ©
Feb 3, 2024
Feb 3, 2024 at 5:29 PM UTC
Darren this is a poem IV wrote for you, to let you know everyone misses and wishers the best for you.
We know it’s not the best of times and you are allowed to cry, but don’t worry mate because everything will be alright.
We love that smile your family and friends are there to hold you tight, and bring you cuddles all day and every night.
Make sure this memory turns out to be something nice; we all wish the best for you if ever u needs to chat we always hear for you.
As time passes by and minutes go by please don’t worry because everything will be alright.
Hope you get well soon just to let you know we always hear for you.
Jidos Reality for Darren’s cancer charity 6.3.10
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 7:03 PM UTC
I break the surface
As the water recedes
I'm no longer fighting
Washed up in the weeds
I look for the voice
Calling out to me
Feeling the sand
Away from the sea
I crawl for a while
Then stand on my feet
I take a few steps
Snow following sleet
I walk for the hills
The sun escapes me
The night draws in
Moon lights the quay
There on the pier
You waited for me
You never gave up
You kept calling me
The pain in my heart
I left in the sea
No longer distressed
I'm finally free
By Darren Wall
Nov 29, 2023
Nov 29, 2023 at 6:37 PM UTC
Take me back
To times of tranquility
In a time of peace
And mental stability
To escape my feelings
Of guilt and regret,
All the trauma and pain
I just...cannot forget
Where my mind is pure
With social innocence
Deaf to their words
Of cynical influence
Where fear is a myth
A story of fiction
Condemned by verse
To eternal extinction
I could be..
Free from the trauma
Free from the pain
I can erase my history
And walk tall again
By Darren Wall
Jul 8, 2019
Jul 8, 2019 at 5:48 PM UTC
The Black Queen of
The Hacker Scene
Blood Goth Style
And Silent Screams
Her Coding Skills
Were yet Unseen
Many were 'pwned'
By her Data Schemes
'Til she tried to crack
The Encrytion on the
Pentagons firewall
It was Her Down Fall
She got the Option
Prison Time or
Work for them
Fighting this crime
She ended up meeting
Darren who was her
Carmel Candy Joy
Their chats dripped with Cloy
She started with the FBI BAU
Cracking info and Flirts with Darren
She tracked signals world wide
Till the IP was Enprisoned
Cracking Data to Criminal Minds
What ever they ask she can find
And she's anticipated like a digital
Reader of Minds, A Fashion Fatale'
Bright pink Pigtails and
Blue Cats Eyed Glasses
With Glitter Lashes
She's a Digital Data Diva
All the Work here is licensed under the Name
®SilverSilkenTongue and the © Property of J.Flack
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 7:11 PM UTC
Memories of old,
flooding fast through my mind,
some tinged with sadness
and some, sweet sublime.
A fireside reverie shared
with eyes so bright,
an audience of innocence
and excited delight.
The crackling logs
on the fires of time,
the little rapt faces as
you feed them a line.
Of thunder, lightning,
and rain as we run!
Football, toy-fighting,
such laughter and fun.
Flying a kite that
you made on your own
out of bin bags and tape
and canes tied and bowed.
A dam in the brook,
fighting flowing water
with rocks, wood
and uncontrolled laughter.
Till finally plugged,
the waters rise
deeper and wider
before delighted eyes.
Then comes the challenge,
“Who can burst the dam?”
No touching allowed,
just throw what you can.
Bricks and sticks
and boulders and all,
sploshing and splashing
they uselessly fall.
But the water's still rising
and there's panic in our eyes,
it'll soon reach the road,
“Better run for our lives!”
But wait, what’s this,
could this do the trick?
As long as a gate post
and three times as thick.
We wrestle and heave
and drag it uphill,
pushing and pulling
and testing our will.
Till finally atop and
we let out a sigh,
this might just work,
“We'll give it a try”.
Straining and grunting
and chuckling with glee
as we swing it between us,
one...two...three!
With a whoosh and a crack
our dam is no more
as the post breaks its back
and we’re laughing on the floor.
Such innocent times,
that can still make me grin,
they live in the mind
of the sweet child within.
Written by Darren Scanlon, March 2011.
This revised version written, 17th July 2015.
©2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 11:42 AM UTC
His senses hold him prisoner
Overwhelmed and alone
Walls were his burden
The light too much to bear
The soaked linen of yesterday's news
Stained with fear from battles before
Eclectic hoarding and microwave meals
Swallows a sharp suit and a badge
Headlights cast broken shadows
Each a spectre of the past
Empty scotch and cigarette holes
A slow crawl to solitude
Light burns through a slither
Heart beating through the walls
Strangled by the sirens
That triggered him before
He needs to be cradled
Yet no one comforts him
He rocks back and forth
Rhythmic on the floor
Screams muted by paralysis
Silence pervades the void
Fractured by the rasp and
A crescendo of emotions
The warning bells pass
They did not come for him
His symphony of sorrow
Plays out to an empty room
By Darren Wall ©
Feb 6, 2024
Feb 6, 2024 at 6:33 PM UTC
Gaze into a persons eyes,
far beyond the mask
and wonder at the questions
that you’re too afraid to ask.
Gloriously gazing
into depths of deep emotion,
currents running deep
within a cool and placid ocean.
Dive into the loving soul
of one who gives their all
and marvel at the feelings
that are waiting for the call.
Deliberately diving
into strong rolling waves
risking all you have to give
for a lover, to save.
Drift along on the gentle flow
of loves deep warming spring,
exulting at the warm embrace
that begs your soul to sing.
Dreamily drifting
in waters that refresh
you feel its teasing touch
upon your warm and tender flesh.
Swim far out to distant pools
and reach the hearts horizon,
wells of clear compassion
and a strength that’s so surprising.
Sensuously swimming
and content for evermore,
at peace with the heart and soul
of the one that you adore.
...
Melt into a soul-mates sweet
and tender smiling eyes,
never again will you feel the need
to wonder how or why.
All you see within those pools,
is all you could desire,
together let your souls fly free
and set the breeze on fire.
Let your hearts set the rhythm,
beating beneath the sun,
as songs of love and joy ring out,
new life has just begun.
*
Written by Darren Scanlon, 23rd June 2014.
Revised 11th August 2015.
©2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 1:13 PM UTC
My friend Terrence
was a little happy sole,
he didn't need a kennel,
nor a house or a hole.
His home was a shell
that he carried on his back,
so that all he had to do
was drop down on the track.
Then he'd pull his head inside,
followed by his legs and feet
and he’d look inside the fridge
for something tasty to eat.
If it started raining
or got too chilly cold,
his friends would run for shelter
beneath trees or in their holes.
But not our little friend,
because he'd climb inside his shell
and have a cup of tea
until the sun chased off the chill.
Wherever he did travel,
he would walk so nice and slow,
well there's no need to rush,
you might trip or stub your toe!
“And all the good things
come to those that wait”,
or so his mother told him
as he headed through the gate.
“If you’re rushing all the time
and your feet don’t want to stop
then you’ll end up getting dizzy
like a whizzing spinning top”.
His mother, how she loved him
and he loved her lots, right back
with her funny little sayings
she would help him stay on track.
So there my tale has ended,
for all you girls and boys,
and now you've met my little friend,
Terence the Tortoise.
*
Written by Darren Scanlon, 25th February 2014.
Revised, 30th August 2015.
Artwork by Angie Caira.
© 2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 10:10 PM UTC
To hold you up
if you start to fall
and fly to your side
whenever you call.
To hold you close
when dark closes in,
I’ll feed your heart
and beat from within.
To feel your warmth
and the glow of your smile,
when the clouds are parted
we can see for miles.
To hold your hand
through life's testing times,
to shield and protect
on those slippery climbs
And once the crest
has again been achieved,
to watch you sleep,
see you smile; be relieved.
Written by Darren Scanlon, 15th December 2013.
Revised 16th July 2015.
© 2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.
http://www.darrenscanlon.wordpress.com
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 5:57 AM UTC
They shed no tears as the bridges burned
A lingering stench of phantosmia remains
No pouncet box can mask the memories
Their shame leaks through guilty pores
By Darren Wall ©
May 7, 2024
May 7, 2024 at 7:08 PM UTC
In the deep dark woods
lived a great brown bear,
he was seven feet tall
but the townsfolk didn’t care
for although the bear was huge
and had fangs and long sharp claws,
all the people would make fun of him
and point out his big flaw.
Have you ever met a bear
who had nothing much to say,
who couldn’t even growl
when he came outside to play?
Well, Bob was his name
and no matter how he tried,
when he opened his big mouth
all he managed was a sigh.
Now in a nearby village
lived a little girl called Sal,
she liked the big old bear
and they’d grown to be good pals.
She was never afraid of Bob
for she loved him well and true,
she was sure he’d never hurt her,
he was gentle through and through.
“I going to stop them laughing”,
decided Sal one sunny day,
“They're no longer making fun
of my dear friend that way!”
So she came up with a plan
that was certain to succeed
and when the crowd arrived,
she sneaked up into a tree.
When poor old Bob stood up tall
and he raised his great big paws,
showing to all the people
he had long and dangerous claws,
little Sal gave the loudest roar
from the top of her tiny lungs
as he opened his enormous mouth
showing them fierce looking fangs.
The people jumped and screamed
and then ran for their dear lives,
falling over wooden fences
and some buzzing bee hives.
The bees came out and cried,
“What a terrible thing to do!”
and they chased them even further
with the threat of a sting or two.
Bob and Sal just laughed and laughed
as she dropped down from the tree
landing right upon his back,
how they giggled with such glee.
“I bet they'll all be hiding now
and wondering with a scowl,
where on earth did that silly bear
get his loud and fearsome growl?”
Sal gave Bob a last big hug
and bade her friend goodnight.
“Didn't we both give them
such a terrible old fright?
Lets do it again tomorrow
and watch them scream and run
from a poor old sighing bear,
who is really such good fun”.
Written by Darren Scanlon, 27th May 2014.
Revised 1st September 2015.
Artwork by Angie Caira.
©2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 4:28 AM UTC