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The Top 100 Gothic Horror/ Dark Romantic Poems By RainbowReed
This is a list of probably the best, scariest, most imaginative and strangest poems in the world.
To read the poems: go to blog view!
- 1
No Heartache Without A Heart
Djae Aroni“ No Heartache Without A HeartI’ll carve my heart out and place it in a box, my keep-sake gift to you,The continuous beating caused me pain, it had to be removed.Keep it if you must, through it if you will,My inability to smile again; it might as well stand still.Loving without return is like a question without an answer,It eats away at me; proclaim it to be my cancer.Stamp out the fading embers in the dying flame,It pains me to know that you’ll never call my name.Grief pent up will break the heart, but you already did the deed to mine,You’re like a batch of poison, vile and serpentine.Like an open wound, infect and eat away,The open wound caused by your hand has turned my heart to clay."Small sorrows speak; but great ones are silent" so I’ll purse my lips tight,Don’t make a scene, don’t cause a fuss, it’s really quite alright.There’s no time for sorrow, no time for pain,Such melancholic misery brings out no gain.I’ll take it with a smile, grinning ear-to-ear,Slit my wrists in two; it’s all your fault dear.By Djae Aroni „ - 2
Because I could not stop for Death
Emily Dickinson“ Because I could not stop for DeathHe kindly stopped for meThe Carriage held but just OurselvesAnd Immortality.We slowly drove, he knew no hasteAnd I had put awayMy labor and my leisure too,For his civility.We passed the School, where Children stroveAt recess in the ringWe passed the fields of gazing grainWe passed the setting sun.Or rather, he passed usThe dews drew quivering and chillFor only Gossamer, my gownMy tippet only tulle.We paused before a house that seemedA swelling of the GROUNDThe roof was scarcely visibleThe cornice in the ground.Since then 'tis centuries and yetFeels shorter than the DAYI first surmised the horses' headsWere toward eternity.By Emily Dickenson „ - 3
She Walks in Beauty
Lord Byron“ She Walks In BeautyShe walks in beauty like the nightof cloudless climes and starry skies;And all that's best of dark and brightmeets in her aspect and her eyes:Thus mellow'd to that tender lightwhich heaven to gaudy day denies.One shade the more, one ray the less,had half impair'd the nameless gracewhich waves in every raven tress,or softly lightens o'er her face -where thoughts serenely sweet expresshow pure, how dear their dwelling - place.And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,so soft, so calm, yet eloquent,the smiles that win, the tints that glow,but tells in days of goodness spent,a mind at peace with all below,a heart whose love is innocent.By Lord George Gordon Byron „ - 4
Edgar Allan Poe“ The RavenOnce upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door."'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door-Only this, and nothing more."Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.Eagerly I wished the morrow;- vainly I had sought to borrowFrom my books surcease of sorrow- sorrow for the lost Lenore-For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore-Nameless here for evermore.And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtainThrilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-This it is, and nothing more."Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,That I scarce was sure I heard you"- here I opened wide the door;-Darkness there, and nothing more.Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering,fearing,Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!"This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"-Merely this, and nothing more.Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before."Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice:Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-'Tis the wind and nothing more."Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt andflutter,In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayedhe;But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-Perched, and sat, and nothing more.Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore."Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure nocraven,Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore-Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,Though its answer little meaning- little relevancy bore;For we cannot help agreeing that no living human beingEver yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door-Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,With such name as "Nevermore."But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke onlyThat one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered-Till I scarcely more than muttered, "other friends have flownbefore-On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."Then the bird said, "Nevermore."Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful DisasterFollowed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore-Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden boreOf 'Never- nevermore'."But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust anddoor;Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linkingFancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore-What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yoreMeant in croaking "Nevermore."This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressingTo the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease recliningOn the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er,She shall press, ah, nevermore!Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censerSwung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor."Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee- by these angels hehath sent theeRespite- respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore!Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore.""Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!- prophet still, if bird ordevil!-Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-On this home by horror haunted- tell me truly, I implore-Is there- is there balm in Gilead?- tell me- tell me, I implore!"Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore.""Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil- prophet still, if bird ordevil!By that Heaven that bends above us- by that God we both adore-Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore-Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore.""Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend," I shrieked,upstarting-"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!Leave my loneliness unbroken!- quit the bust above my door!Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off mydoor!"Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sittingOn the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on thefloor;And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floorShall be lifted- nevermore!By Edgar Allan Poe „ - 5
The Devils Thoughts
Samuel Coleridge“ The Devil's ThoughtsFrom his brimstone bed at break of dayA walking the DEVIL is gone,To visit his little snug farm of the earthAnd see how his stock went on.Over the hill and over the dale,And he went over the plain,And backward and forward he swished his long tailAs a gentleman swishes his cane.And how then was the Devil drest?Oh! he was in his Sunday's best:His jacket was red and his breeches were blue,And there was a hole where the tail came through.He saw a LAWYER killing a ViperOn a dung heap beside his stable,And the Devil smiled, for it put him in mindOf Cain and _his_ brother, Abel.A POTHECARY on a white horseRode by on his vocations,And the Devil thought of his old FriendDEATH in the Revelations.He saw a cottage with a double coach-house,A cottage of gentility!And the Devil did grin, for his darling sinIs pride that apes humility.He went into a rich bookseller's shop,Quoth he! we are both of one college,For I myself sate like a cormorant onceFast by the tree of knowledge.Down the river there plied, with wind and tide,A pig with vast celerity;And the Devil look'd wise as he saw how the while,It cut its own throat. 'There!' quoth he with a smile,'Goes 'England's commercial prosperity.''As he went through Cold-Bath Fields he sawA solitary cell;And the Devil was pleased, for it gave him a hintFor improving his prisons in hell.* * * * * *General ----------- burning faceHe saw with consternation,And back to hell his way did he take,For the Devil thought by a slight mistakeIt was general conflagration.By Samuel Coleridge „ - 6
Online Lover
Rainbow ReedThe Wicked Come“ Online LoverCity sounds screamed and swirled,Sirens raced through neon world,Shutters shook, while ghost trucks spedLewd vacant sign flashed deep red.Her laptop buzzed and flickered,While angry parents bickered.She stared at the screen entranced,Red electric shadows danced.Angry voices drifted near,Pa sailed in on wave of fear,"Switch that off!" Screams, floating head.And get some real friends instead.Footsteps fiercely stomp away.Girl opens laptop to play,Hidden under counterpane,Waiting for the storm to wane.Port of safety, sight unseen,Message moves across the screen.Online lover wants to meet,Wild racing heart skips a beat.Laptop lies on tousled bed,Swamped in linen, glowing red.Bedding smoulders in the gloom,Smoky waves surge from the room…..In strip club across two states.Josh, fifteen, but thirty waits.Balding hair and sweating hand,Waiting for his catch to land…At the coach station she waits,Tiny girl by boarding gates,In rucksack sharpened cleaver,Lover Josh will never leave her…ByRainbow Reed „ - 7
Lady In black
Rainbow ReedThe Wicked Come“ Lady In BlackShe follows me from room to room,Footsteps echoing in the gloom. Softly her boots tap up the stair,Scents of lavender fill the air. In mirrored reflections, she waits,Her fractured face just stares and hates. I catch glimpses of long black dress,Wrapped tightly in loving caress. Then vanishes into a mist,I breathe in the air that she kissed. Black eyes watch as in bed I lie,They laugh and tease, I slowly die. No one believes that she is there,Just following me everywhere. I can never be at my rest,Its’ always me and silent guest.By Rainbow Reed „ - 8
Mirror
Terry Youll“ The Mirror There's someone in my mirrow he isn't always there He looks a little like me with the same quite bushy hair He is not there all the time only when i look And even when I'm reading he has the exact same book He scares me rigid worse every day Hope when I break the mirrow he will go away, But I can't break the mirrow cos if I do he may Be around for ever And just deside to stay By Terry Youll „ - 9 Stevie Smith“ Not Waving but DrowningNobody heard him, the dead man,But still he lay moaning:I was much further out than you thoughtAnd not waving but drowning.Poor chap, he always loved larkingAnd now he's deadIt must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,They said.Oh, no no no, it was too cold always(Still the dead one lay moaning)I was much too far out all my lifeAnd not waving but drowning.By Stevie Smith „
- 10
Invictus
William Ernest Henley“ Out of the night that covers me,Black as the Pit from pole to pole,I thank whatever gods may beFor my unconquerable soul.In the fell clutch of circumstanceI have not winced nor cried aloud.Under the bludgeonings of chanceMy head is bloody, but unbowed.Beyond this place of wrath and tearsLooms but the Horror of the shade,And yet the menace of the yearsFinds, and shall find, me unafraid.It matters not how strait the gate,How charged with punishments the scroll.I am the master of my fate:I am the captain of my soul. By William Ernest Henley „ - 11
Dream Girl
Rainbow ReedThe Wicked Come“ Dream GirlShe floatsOutside my window.Calls softlyIn my dreams.Tells me I amNot Alone.Black dress flutteringAll about her.Glowing face ofFinest Silk.Watching me throughShimmery veil.Scratches window withSharpened nails.Bright eyes begging,Long tongue lickingCaressing blackenedRosebud lips.Waking in aDreaming world,I open windowShe fliesIn.Vision of beauty.A waning moon.Drawn from CracksInside my mind.Beckons me withLong sleeve flapping.To creaky window sill.She jumpsFallingInto Darkness.RustlingSounds of flight.I followDesperate to belong.Gusts of hopeBlow By.I jump.I fall.The path bleeds red.As smiling sweetly,She swoopsTo feed.By Rainbow Reed „ - 12
The Fear
Robert Frost“ The FearA LANTERN light from deeper in the barnShone on a man and woman in the doorAnd threw their lurching shadows on a houseNear by, all dark in every glossy window.A horse's hoof pawed once the hollow floor,And the back of the gig they stood besideMoved in a little. The man grasped a wheel,The woman spoke out sharply, "Whoa, stand still!""I saw it just as plain as a white plate,"She said, "as the light on the dashboard ranAlong the bushes at the roadside--a man's face.You must have seen it too.""I didn't see it.Are you sure----""Yes, I'm sure!""--it was a face?""Joel, I'll have to look. I can't go in,I can't, and leave a thing like that unsettled.Doors locked and curtains drawn will make no difference.I always have felt strange when we came homeTo the dark house after so long an absence,And the key rattled loudly into placeSeemed to warn someone to be getting outAt one door as we entered at another.What if I'm right, and someone all the time--Don't hold my arm!""I say it's someone passing.""You speak as if this were a travelled road.You forget where we are. What is beyondThat he'd be going to or coming fromAt such an hour of night, and on foot too.What was he standing still for in the bushes?""It's not so very late--it's only dark.There's more in it than you're inclined to say.Did he look like----?""He looked like anyone.I'll never rest to-night unless I know.Give me the lantern.""You don't want the lantern."She pushed past him and got it for herself."You're not to come," she said. "This is my business.If the time's come to face it, I'm the oneTo put it the right way. He'd never dare--Listen! He kicked a stone. Hear that, hear that!He's coming towards us. Joel, go in--please.Hark!--I don't hear him now. But please go in.""In the first place you can't make me believe it's----""It is--or someone else he's sent to watch.And now's the time to have it out with himWhile we know definitely where he is.Let him get off and he'll be everywhereAround us, looking out of trees and bushesTill I sha'n't dare to set a foot outdoors.And I can't stand it. Joel, let me go!""But it's nonsense to think he'd care enough.""You mean you couldn't understand his caring.Oh, but you see he hadn't had enough--Joel, I won't--I won't--I promise you.We mustn't say hard things. You mustn't either.""I'll be the one, if anybody goes!But you give him the advantage with this light.What couldn't he do to us standing here!And if to see was what he wanted, whyHe has seen all there was to see and gone."He appeared to forget to keep his hold,But advanced with her as she crossed the grass."What do you want?" she cried to all the dark.She stretched up tall to overlook the lightThat hung in both hands hot against her skirt."There's no one; so you're wrong," he said."There is.--What do you want?" she cried, and then herselfWas startled when an answer really came."Nothing." It came from well along the road.She reached a hand to Joel for support:The smell of scorching woollen made her faint."What are you doing round this house at night?""Nothing." A pause: there seemed no more to say.And then the voice again: "You seem afraid.I saw by the way you whipped up the horse.I'll just come forward in the lantern lightAnd let you see.""Yes, do.--Joel, go back!"She stood her ground against the noisy stepsThat came on, but her body rocked a little."You see," the voice said."Oh." She looked and looked."You don't see--I've a child here by the hand.""What's a child doing at this time of night----?""Out walking. Every child should have the memoryOf at least one long-after-bedtime walk.What, son?""Then I should think you'd try to findSomewhere to walk----""The highway as it happens--We're stopping for the fortnight down at Dean's.""But if that's all--Joel--you realize--You won't think anything. You understand?You understand that we have to be careful.This is a very, very lonely place.Joel!" She spoke as if she couldn't turn.The swinging lantern lengthened to the ground,It touched, it struck it, clattered and went out. ByRobert Frost „ - 13
Resume
Dorothy Parker“ ResumeRazors pain you;Rivers are damp;Acids stain you;And drugs cause cramp.Guns aren't lawful;Nooses give;Gas smells awful;You might as well live.ByDorothy Parker „ - 14
Death Of A Garden
Krystal Asher“ Death Of A GardenA mist enshrouded gardenSown with faded memoryOne so long forgottenAs if eyes had never seenI can tell in the twilightNothing here still growsEach vine lay shriveledIn some dark reposeLeaves curl upon themselvesAs if in the instance of demiseThey cringed from their destructionWith terrified surpriseSkeletal floraLong bereft of huePainted now with hoarfrostFor the wanderer to viewA withered necropolisNaught but dust for soilAnd did one yearn to salvage itThe land would not reward the toilA sudden realization dawnedI stilled on the path I treadThe garden was my heartAnd it was truly deadI sat on that broken roadNumb with epiphanyHow could something dieAnd no one seem to see?Once there was beauty hereYet no one realizedAnd no one mourns the passingWhen a secret diesBy Krystal Asher „ - 15
Behold the Grave of a Wicked Man
Stephen Maria Crane“ Behold The Grave Of A Wicked Man Behold, the grave of a wicked man, And near it, a stern spirit. There came a drooping maid with violets, But the spirit grasped her arm. "No flowers for him," he said. The maid wept: "Ah, I loved him." But the spirit, grim and frowning: "No flowers for him." Now, this is it -- If the spirit was just, Why did the maid weep? By Stephen Maria Crane „ - 16
Dying is Fine But Death
E.E. Cummings“ dying is fine)but Death ?obabyi wouldn't like Death if Deathweregood:for when(instead of stopping to think)you begin to feel of it,dying's miraculouswhy?be cause dying is perfectly natural;perfectlyputtingit mildly lively(but Death is strictlyscientific& artificial & evil & legal) we thank theegodalmighty for dying(forgive us,o life!the sin of Death „ - 17
Innocence Turned Evil
Karen Burger“ Innocence Turned EvilThe distant snow on ancient pathmy darling, daughter, dearshe climbed the distant hillhair of Gold and skin of WhiteBlue eyes filled with broken tearsstill an evil woman creepupon the village laid in snowa shadow fall across the yardthe sun is Black, the wind is coldnow she lay there in the snowred with innocence, devil's brideBy Karen Burger „ - 18
The Wicked Come
“ The Wicked Come is an exciting, sinister collection of Dark Romantic and Gothic Horror poetry featuring many new twisted exciting poems from horror writer Rainbow Reed.All the poems are written in a different form or style some amusing, some eerie and some just wicked. The collection explores the darker side of humanity, what happens when people love too much, when sanity crashes against madness and meet the characters that inhabit the shadow lands of society: the gourmet detective, the doctor with unusual hobbies, the unnatural gardener and other fascinating creatures. „ +Add New Item
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