Poetry Topic

For all of you who want to share your poetry, please post and discuss it here so its easier for everyone to find.

Enjoy!

Tags: Poetry

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Permalink Reply by Blake McFarland on July 25, 2012 at 22:35

O'er the tempestuous tides there lies
A tomb, that tells the tale of a time.
A tale of untimely terror told
By an undead maiden atop her throne.

Permalink Reply by Blake McFarland on July 25, 2012 at 22:36


Everyone tells me that we write a lot alike, but i have not read much of his work.
Siiri Cressey said:

Mmmm.  Do you like Poe much? :-)

Blake McFarland said:

'Twas at twilight dim --
B'neath the waves there came a hymn,
A lustrous chant -- daylight's vale
A shadow perch'd atop her sail...

Permalink Reply by Siiri Cressey on July 26, 2012 at 19:27

You aught to; it is awesome.  I highly recommend Steampunk Poe.

Permalink Reply by Nutsack of Filth on August 23, 2012 at 4:18

Painful.

Permalink Reply by Siiri Cressey on August 23, 2012 at 17:47

The Kingdom Of Spruce is Maine, where I live.

Ha'ants Of The Kingdom Of Spruce

By Holman Day

The sheeted ghosts of moated grange
And misty wraiths are passing strange;
The gibbering spooks and elfin freaks
And cackling witches' maudlin squeaks —

— They have terrified the nations, and have laid the bravest low,

But intimidate a woodsman up in Maine ? Why,

bless you, no! Merely misty apparitions or some sad ancestral spook

Serve to terrify a maiden or to warn a deathmarked duke.

But the P. I. scoffs their terrors, though he'll never venture loose

'Mongst the ha'nts that roam the woodlands in the weird domains of Spruce.

He'll mock the fears of mystic and he'll scorn the bookish tales

Of the fearsome apparitions of the past, but

courage fails In the night when he awakens, all a-shiver in his bunk,

And with ear against the logging hears the

steady, muffled thunk

Of the hairy fists of monsters, beating there in grisly play,

Horrid things that stroll o' night-times, never, never seen by day,

For he knows that though the spectres of the

storied past are vain,

There is true and ghostly ravage in the forest depths of Maine .

For even in these days P. I.s shake

At the great Swamp Swogon of Brassua Lake.

When it Witters and glabbers the long night

through, And shrieks for the souls of the shivering crew.

And all of us know of the witherlick

That prowls by the shore of the Cup-sup-tic.

Of the Side Hill Ranger whose eyeballs gleam

When the moon hangs gibbous over Abol stream;

Of the Dolorous Demon that moans and calls

Through the mists of Abol-negassis falls.

And many a woodsman has felt his bunk
Tossed by the Phantom of Sourdna-hunk.
There's the Giant Spook who ha'nted Lane's
Old wangan camp and rended chains

Great iron links of the snubbing cable —

As though they were straw — who was even able

To twist the links in a mighty mat

With which he bent the forest flat

From Nahma-kanta to Depsiconneag

Acres and acres — league after league;

Striding abroad from peak to dale

And laying on with his mighty flail.

Oh, fie for the shade of the manored hall,
A fig for a Thing in a grave-creased pall,

For wraiths that flitter and flutter and sigh,

With flabby limbs and the sunken eye!

The woodsman recks not ye, frail ghosts,

But he knows and he bows to the deep wood's hosts,

Who sound their coming with giant breath,

Who mark their passing with storm and death,

Who shriek through blow-downs and howl o'er lakes,

And he hides and trembles, he shivers and shakes

When he hears the Desperate Demons loose
In the weird dominions of grim King Spruce.
Permalink Reply by realm of dark on October 18, 2012 at 0:52

so this is just a song i wrote in my spare time, its my first one so no harsh thoughts

Burning in heaven

for as far as I recall I have tried to follow your steps
but all that u had ever had for me was...

pain!!!!
All father, why have you cursed me with His punishment?
Why am I the one to pay the cost of sin?
in heavenly hands I went
but from holy zenith
you drop me..

All father, I cry out to you
from the scorching carrion of hell
which you have set for me,
reverse

standing in front of the gates to hell
fear of its majesty and unholy god
turn back, with speed to you
with a great big wish to enter, holy reign

but fate was set, your will made
I was not to succeed mighty power

fear of death and love of god
prevented hells clutch on weak immortal body
but for god he had wished for a burning crusade
rest upon my soul

standing in front of the gates to hell
indifference between father and dark
lord forever to walk the lonely earth
in shade from divinity and its angels

six feet under's love,
why now should I care for what has to happen still?
Back and forth the eternal war, I take no part

but such hate could not vanish from a vanishing soul
He would not let me out, for its is my burden
to carry unjust punishment, death, hate.

“so it is this you seek, almighty!
bring over your weapons of torture
I shall embrace, used to this life you burdened me
only so much damage can be done, I fight you!”

standing in front of the gates to hell
oh god how blind now I see
where power reigns, and sin I adored
nests where the light could not shine

blind now I see
He reigns over the weak

hope you enjoyed and pls tell me if you think i should do more

Permalink Reply by Siiri Cressey on October 18, 2012 at 18:31

Do you have music to go with it?

Permalink Reply by realm of dark on October 19, 2012 at 3:12

no, im not in a band haha

Permalink Reply by realm of dark on November 17, 2012 at 3:42

Invisible Lullabies

years of utter agony and oppressive pain,

put my name into innocent minds,

and fear, oh the so adored fear,

of people as they watched the transformation

into the enemy

but I was not always so cold

once upon a time, where visions through a childish eye

would see a world, all surrounded by

where heaven, a never ending playground

was only two steps from him.

Then lust, a demoness

swept across the sea,

from where she bred to where is lay,

bringing the unwanted stories of a never ending reality

of pain undivided from freedom wished happiness.

So chained to the wall in her dormitory

my sight watched as my carcass heart

on the floor now rested

a million golden pieces midst the dirt

and dust of sinful anger.

But I was not always so cold

before the burning, where memories lay abandoned,

her prowling eye spied the perfect victim

to whom she will bring her doom.

Then love a, destroyer,

would bring punishment to foolish hearts

who followed, mindless of the fangs he hid

behind his veil of drafted lies.

Watching this cadaver, breathing,

laughing at the dazed, who chose,

thinking and hoping of a world where lies lay dead

and he would reign all bringing happiness

as the bent lord had falsely promised.

I was not always so cold,

where memories, lost

and dreams would see a beautiful eden

was the joyful in a lucent white dress

given by an angel who touched,

with the lighting hand the innocent, blessed mind

of holy child.

These visions fade,

burning, aflame in eternal loss

my plea to the sky sees no return

so face the truth, forever cursed

by reality whose lament ceases only

before death and its pleasures.

But it not for pleasure I wish this malediction

upon face of mankind, the beloved creation of God

but for darker reasons I wish for it to burn

in the same flame I tasted

and my word will be fulfilled by action

whose cause forever will be my burning desire

to drive this thriving blade in every meaningless mortal.

So cold...

Permalink Reply by Nutsack of Filth on November 27, 2012 at 18:36

So what's the problem?

House The Misfit Graves said:

I wish it was always dark outside.

That's the time i feel alive.

When the suns up It feels like

Sunshine's darkness

Permalink Reply by Siiri Cressey on November 27, 2012 at 21:21

Maybe House is just nocturnal.

1qy2i28wljvjcPermalink Reply by 1qy2i28wljvjc on November 30, 2012 at 22:36

Now I get an impression of gotham.

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