Goth poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of goth poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on goth are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
I speak out with pain, I charge with anger I change when needed, I adapt to changes I’m afraid of nothing, fearless as ever I’m friends with the demons and spirits They follow wherever I go Some protect me, some
Madness burns like a candle Blustery night haunted with Anna No clover or wild grass grows No laughter sighs in the wind Only the moan like a cemetery The sea wrestles with ghosts I have drowned in sorrow Sanity has
Like clouds scurrying from the sun- they dawn love to come forth. In them lies a world meant to be free- from all inhibitions for a feat! They are the tambour- that drives away all that is goth. Their waves
Long lazy day Cool summer nights Skipping along Flying emotional kites Eyes gaze your way Is it really you A fluttering hope Leaving me blue My heart skips a beat How do I compare Eyes down to feet A flower
I long for lost horizons, for castles in the dale For wise and mighty dragons, and painted ships that sail For wizards in the towers and kings upon the throne Enchanted swords a-blazing, swift arrows straight and long I long
Run along the gentle slope, And meet me by the tire swing. Smell of dry grasses rides the air, Opium clouds sleeping feverishly above, Hot rainwater sloshes gently, In the belly of the tire. This solitary tree, Filled with broken
It was a killing line. Walking on razor wire, when toes would not leave the sky and heels will not touch the ground. Myths and legends were becoming a witchcraft. Are you ready to eschew the classical script and write
Because of too many nightmares I’m visited by the dead those familiar persons with ordinary words with hobbies and bad habits so homy , we ride together on the horse or in the small car we fall asleep in the
Though words are cheap, and often said, By the tongue of fools, some are lead. In the darkness of night, they lay await, To guide the weak, to their fate. When they gain, their victims trust, Then they cause, their
Another minute without you, has passed, As sands pour grandly in a timely fall, And so did leaves that on the ground have massed, When they obliged to heed the Winter’s call; But wintry days lingered, to fill my life,
It was haemolysed the homeless night. Flagellation will bring out the truth. The bloody kerchief was thrown on a crowd. A new comet was sighted. Dust and ice were near the tears. Sun was rising. Something fell in the lake.
Somewhere in between slumber and arousal the twilight zone scoops a fistful of memories. Atrophied limbs. Mottled skin. A cancerous face haunts. Not afraid but I am anxious. Life has not yet ebbed away. I scramble for sparks, my hands
Every little flower that blooms, Every day the sun when rise, Every night the moon when shines, Give you the wish to fly high! When in the darkness yiu fall, When in the crowd yiu get lost, Just close your
A snowflake lands on barbed wire A world emotionless stretched by a liar A freedom of speech when it’s truth we desire A preacher can preach but I’m not for hire A ruling class made by slavery minimum wage provider
Of all vice in the world under discipline Laziness – a Curse – is like a Saccharin. Sweet as pipe, sonorous as violin Wicked as a snake, ill-mannered as Bedouin; Laziness creeps in secretly body within And remains there undisturbed
Just another fortnight, I walked down the corriders crossing hundred lives at various forks breathing,struggling. wondering,watching In the meantime another promising life passed away to glory someone went berserk snuffing out a hundred more with blazing guns.. Lives limping back
Our freedom began with the historic words At the midnight when the world sleeps India will awake we did wake to freedom It’s now the sixty ninth year of freedom But what sort of freedom is this A handful of those
I stand before you on the edge, A risen cliff above the ocean. Many times my life I’ve pledged, Followed the book and went through the motions. But you’ve forsaken me, my Lord. And I hear nothing but the wind.
As I ponder upon the color in my life a friend brought, I fall into a boulevard of meanings which is difficult to sort, Which compounds a lot of emotions together making a heavy stout, The satisfying talks that I
Tonight I will not sleep I will call you in my eyes. My hands were trembling when I opened the book. Words you uttered long back tumbled out ashen-faced. I started burning inside. Where did we take a wrong turn?
You toppled the invisible burning the unburied buttons joining the history of names. Will I be able to communicate with straw to find out the age of the unarrived seeds? There is too much violence in green blood. The broken
Inspiration for true love, you always remain, With your ineffable look and idyllic thoughts, Your dulcet expressions are very iridescent, When two lovers are kissing in garden. Joyful love making in the dark deep forest, You will never jilt our
Sometimes you cry. And that’s okay. It doesn’t make you weak. It never means you’re frail. It means you’re strong… Stronger than they know. Sometimes you have to let some bad out to make room for more strength. And, my
When I look in the mirror of my reflection, I see just another human being swallowed up in depression. When you look in the mirror do you like what you see? Is the self esteem absentee? Are you only 5″
Brave is nothing without proof But believe me I do believe I am brave Perhaps you will see that Maybe now Maybe in the generation Or maybe not It starts with the nature of you I am braver Than yesterday
An old boar squirrel has made a home in the tall skinny house across the street. he must think himself lucky to have the space. I watch him build his treasury on the jade kitchen linoleum dark nuts arranged like
Hopes filled and mostly disappointed A few of succeeded giving a courage A year called that at the end of midnight Put a comma and it continues same as In a cycle we ride the cycle Beyond the horizon some
I lay in bed Listening to the hammering rain Pit pat pit pat Beating on the window pane I gaze at these racing drops Hitting a different note each fall Spreading the fragrance in the air Of their rendezvous with
Isabella of Aragon sitting high up upon her jewel stoned throne. Patron monarch of saints, scholars and the arts. Noble woman of the heart. Isabella of Castile Spanish Queen quiet surreal. Well and he came to her with a bargain