Shadows, crawl in the cloak of night.
Slithering, seeping, and adjusting to
The dark. Defenceless, with all the might.
Failure eats into the bones. The few
Live in the dark. Blackness engulfs, invades,
Swallows all that is there. Nothing seems there
In that place, that never blinks, for shades
Of light are past. Withheld, there is no care.
Pieces lie. Unable to see, to feel,
To know beyond the consuming depths. Sight
Touch, smell lost in the mist. Where? There to kneel
Bow, surrender, be consumed whole. No fight.
Absorbed into the black. None there survive.
Surrender lingers. Nothing left but to dive.
And this is my favourite that I have written, and I want to say that it's dark. It isn't for the faint hearted and also didn't happen. I also wanted to write a poem that joked about sex and then it got away from me. But I loved writing it (I don't know what that says about me!):
I never understood sex, I mean what’s
The fuss about? All that heavy breathing
And sweaty hands clutching me, that and lots
Of drooling. In the dark. Am I being
Unromantic? It’s not you know. The act
Is more like a comedy or tragedy.
I think the breathing and screaming all packed
Into the space, I remember. Baddie
Of the piece, his mask off, his teeth bared. My voice
Gone. I can still feel that damp clammy breath
On my neck. His tongue wet, taking my choice
Away. Eventually I think death
Would have been better. Sex and I, have lost.
I found out what my friend wanted at my cost.I loved writing them for my own pleasure and loved playing with the words and forms. So poetry it's super fun to create. (For people who want to know what type they are they are sonnets).