Can someone please give me a dark poem, please?

all i wanted was to read a decent dark poem and instead you all critasized my spelling and grammer. please dont be jerks this time

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  • Anonymous
    1 decade ago
    Favorite Answer

    Ahhh, look up William Blake's "The Poison Tree," especially.... Fannie Heaslip Lea's "The Dead Faith," or Sylvia Plath's "Mad Girl's Love Song" or "Morning Song"

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  • Anonymous
    1 decade ago

    Breath deep

    The gathering gloom

    Watch lights fade

    From every room

    Bedsitter people

    Look back and lament

    Another day's useless

    Energy spent

    Impassioned lovers

    Wrestle as one

    Lonely man cries for love

    And has none

    New mother picks up

    And suckles her son

    Senior citizens

    Wish they were young

    Cold hearted orb

    That rules the night

    Removes the colours

    From our sight

    Red is gray and

    Yellow white

    But we decide

    Which is right

    And

    Which is an Illusion

    Moody Blues - Nights in White Satin

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  • 1 decade ago

    He was weak, to weak to move, and darkness seeped into his eyes. He was fading away.

    He felt himself go numb, he couldn’t take a breath, it was too hard…but he didn’t care.

    He knew he was going to die; he had known for a while,

    yet he never thought there would be no fear.

    He could feel his soul pressing against the inside of his body, trying to escape. He closed his eyes, never meaning to open them again, and his mother took hold of his frail cold hand.

    Within his mind, he wished her good-bye, and not to cry, but she would.

    He wished he could tell her he would be ok, but he could no longer speak.

    His heartbeat slowly faded into silence, and all was still. Suddenly his soul exploded through his skin like a firebird, and he was free. He spread his ghostly wings, and rejoiced in this newfound freedom. He no longer smelled the sterile stench of the hospital room, but that of a million dying flowers and it was glorious…and then there was love.

    So intense, so pure; he danced in its radiance, and basked in its amber glow. Then Death appeared before him, and offered a hand. He felt as though he could bust with joy,

    but there were no limits to such emotions.

    He took Death’s thin hand, and together, they fell into the dancing spiral.

    No more pain. No more sickness. No more nights of begging to move on.

    Say goodbye to the moon, as it passes through the night.

    Say goodbye to the summer, with its sun drenched skies.

    Lay your head down beneath the old Oak trees; blissfully, silently, eternally, sleep.

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  • Anonymous
    1 decade ago

    La Belle Dame Sans Merci

    O what can ail thee knight at arms

    alone and palely loitering?

    The sedge has witherd from the lake

    and no birds sing

    O what can ail thee knight at arms

    so haggard and woebegone?

    The squirrel's granary is full

    and the harvests done

    I see a lily on thy brow

    with anguish moist and fever dew

    and on thy cheeks a fading rose

    fast withereth too

    I met a lady in the meads

    Full beautiful - a faery's child

    her hair was long, her foot was light

    and her eyes were wild

    I made a garland for her head

    and bracelets too and fragrant zone

    she looked at me as she did love

    and made sweet moan

    I sat her on my pacing steed

    and nothing else saw all day long

    For sidelong would she bend and sing

    A faery's song

    She found me roots of relish sweet

    And honey wild, and manna dew

    And sure in language strange she said

    'I love thee true'

    She took me to her elfin grot

    and there she wept and sighed full sore

    And there I shut her wild wild eyes

    with kisses four

    And there she lulled me asleep

    and there I dreamed Ah woe betide!

    The latest dream I ever dreamt

    on the cold hillside

    I saw pale kings and princes too

    Pale warriors, death pale were they all

    They cried 'La Belle Dam Sans Merci

    Hath thee in thrall!'

    I saw their starv'd lips in the gloam

    with horrid warning gaped wide

    And I awoke and found me here

    on the cold hillside

    And this is why I soujourn here

    alone and palely loitering

    Though the sedge has withered from the lake

    and no birds sing.

    John Keats

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  • 1 decade ago

    check out Edgar Allan Poe

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