Competition Ends 30th September 2019 8:11pm
Go to page:


Tyrant of Words
52awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 20th Apr 2016
Forum Posts: 2293

Poetry Contest

write a poem or text about the night

Night, the hours after nidnight, dark unveiled time when dreamlands lay awakened. Night of the soul, night visions, night of virtues....
What is your defintion of the word "Night". Write about it in a new poem

All lenghts and styles
No explicit material
Be creative
One month
One entry per poet
No colaborations


picture, Hecate queen of the night

Twisted Dreamer
1awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 6th June 2019
Forum Posts: 33

Moonlight Whispers


Luna’s full this quarter’s reign
the nights not held her bound.
In its stead from starry cloaks
a vale she’s wrapped around.
Bathing glow her daughters share
whilst under evening’s cast.
Fare twilight maidens’ youth and beauty
theirs to ever last.
Her language passes on the breeze
where branches gently shake.
Such is council given softly
yet find it hard to take.
From these small hours concede thee Nox
the sky is set a blaze.
Take rest your time shall come again
children of the darker days.

Written by midevil
Go To Page  

Harry Nichols
Twisted Dreamer
United States
1awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 1st Sep 2018
Forum Posts: 10

Night Walk

I cannot separate from my selfish wandering shadow
my crooked walk, remembrance,
nostalgia in my bones
though my light turns this and that way,
I merely pause to steady my feet
when I should be searching for you.
The fleeting ghost of your future
told in the subtleties of impossible night.
It clings at my heels, a lazy jester
mocking me, telling its truth in its way
despite my attempts to hide in thick black.
where has my mustang spirit fled to
whose echo reverberates down the halls of my veins?
whose recapture proves elusive,
a dream I meant to write down before too long passed?
Written by hgnichols (Harry Nichols)
Go To Page  

Harry Nichols
Twisted Dreamer
United States
1awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 1st Sep 2018
Forum Posts: 10

Just read midevil’s. Super cool.

Brandon Hursell
Twisted Dreamer
United States
1awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 25th Nov 2018
Forum Posts: 39

Chapter 18 – They Dig Places for the Ornaments

The night was the thin purple cold of extremely late summer. Archie stood on fat planks. He felt the pin in his knee. He felt the ache in his heart, and better in his guts and the fuzzy scenery of her necrotic being.
Whisper to his neck, “Archie honey, get the keys from the box on the wall.”
Nervously, “Why? You don’t want to go somewhere now do you? Like this?”
“Like what, Archie baby?”
He is sweating a sick sweat, bile on the bumpy protrusions of his body covering. Archie was becoming inhuman.
Headlights pass. He hugs the wall and gently slides to the door frame. “I can’t go like this, darling, sweaty in my nightclothes and adornments.”
Are you going to stay here staring into my hair, the circles on my belly all night? Are you going to stay here in a fit because my eyes haven’t come out right or are you going to go out, out into the perfect air?
Damn you, Elizabeth. The material squealed and rippled as his hairless chest expanded in a fury.
Life had turned slick and gray under these sheer extravagances and pools on splintered tables. He could barely hold himself up. The stench was rising. And everywhere in the late hours of this strange galaxy, seaside and gloomy, warnings wailed in the streets and walks. Could one ever belong to him?
Written by Brando (Brandon Hursell)
Go To Page  

Tyrant of Words
52awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 20th Apr 2016
Forum Posts: 2293

Midevil. Harry and Brando thanks for the nightly shades of poetry, greets, Melia

buddydog H Faulk III
Thought Provoker
United States
3awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 5th May 2015
Forum Posts: 40

Dark Side of Light

I live in a garden
I hide from the day  
Here in the shadows
A place I choose to stay  
I wait for the night  
That’s when I feel alive  
I walk with Angels  
That didn’t survive  
The light illuminates  
All the hidden pain  
I can’t see to let go  
Only memories remain  
Here in the darkness  
I find comfort and tranquility  
I collect only dark feathers  
As you question my sincerity  
In the night I live in my dream  
With wings of feathers I do not own  
To fly among the stars without a moon  
Like lost angels without a home  
Sometimes I scream out loud  
Memories are like stones  
Like a rock they carry all the weight  
They only hurt when you crash on them alone  
Written by buddydog (buddydog H Faulk III)
Go To Page  

Dangerous Mind
9awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 3rd Sep 2011
Forum Posts: 539

Come sunrise
we prepare
for the struggle
come the night
we prepare
to sleep
like we're dead

Harry Nichols
Twisted Dreamer
United States
1awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 1st Sep 2018
Forum Posts: 10

That’s pretty badass.

Fire of Insight
16awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 13th May 2018
Forum Posts: 202

I Bid Thee Worship Me

I bid thee worship me, come eventide
When slumber’s gate hath closed on thine repose
The specter of dark pleasures there abide
Once stripped of inhibition, stark, exposed.
Like vapors, my seduction stirs, frustrates
To suffer in libido’s taunting throes
Until, to sleep, all soon capitulate
To drown as Stygian darkness doth enclose!
No mere mirage, I take you as my thrall
A supplicant to power, dark and old
In love and fear, obey my pleasured call
Upon my scroll of slaves, be now enrolled!
I am Nyx! From Chaos, was I spawned!
I’ll fill your dreams with rapture, and beyond!

Written by ReggiePoet (Reggie)
Go To Page  

Nyx is the primordial deity of the night. In Greek mythology, she predates even the Titans.

Fire of Insight
5awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 27th Feb 2014
Forum Posts: 140

night vendor

she peddles her ware
far into the night.
her dark thoroughfare
(when her prices are right)
draws suitors who hunger
and thirst for her sweets,
when vendors should decently
snooze in their sheets.

her soursops are sweet,
her sweetsops are sour;
the grapes of her orchard
men quickly devour,
who mortgage good sense
to finance vain needs,
her cherry wine sating
naught of their fat greed.

red-ribbon parfums,
dark-chocolat delights,
the fruit of her looming
she dangles in sight
of pot-bellied men
enticed by her dance,
as down in the gutters
they vie for a chance

her basket to drain
of peaches and plums,
of pomegranates and
whatever might come
to please lips and tongues
that die for a taste
of bait on the tong yet
unknown to the chaste.

© Copyright 2019 August 15
Written by cabcool
Go To Page  

Lost Thinker
United States
  profile   poems   message
Joined 2nd Aug 2019
Forum Posts: 3

My lovely Darkness

My lovely darkness

Tis the witching hours,
dark and full of gloom.
They call to me,
like the full moon.
Devils dancing in the penumbrae,
a feeling of comfort that pleads me to stay.
Night is the only time i am free
to let my demons out,
show the real me
Come dance round the fire.
Come as u are
no need for fancy attire.
Let the dark consume,
lifting your spirit,
lifting your broom.
Speaking in rhyme.
Calling out for help,
bending and stopping time.
Chanting our way into obscurity.
The night is my home,
a place of purity.
Marvel in the darkness,
bare your soul,
I'll be your witness.
A feeling of serenity,
under the stars,
calling upon an entity.
My immoral indulgence,
cloaks and daggers,
crystals and incense.
The darkness is all I've ever known.
So when the moon rises again,
step outside & Welcome to my home!
Written by Addi82
Go To Page  

Twisted Dreamer
  profile   poems   message
Joined 5th Aug 2014
Forum Posts: 52


I can't sleep
I over think
A time machine
Plays the scenes
Inside my head
A younger me  
Should have said
Should have fought
Stood up
On those hostile moments
I should have shared
Myself with him
I looked around
Their eyes bold
Laughing at us
I should have tried  
To see the rise
What could have been
Lost in Imagination
High definition
Reality foreign  
I escaped the one with you in it
What will be next  
Time forwards
Can't be sure
Stress builds up
Not seeing ahead  
Will it collapse?
Before it starts?
What ifs clogging my brain
Are they the same?
Should I quit?
Written by LUUH19 (Emeraldia)
Go To Page  

David Macleod
Tyrant of Words
United Kingdom
38awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 5th Nov 2014
Forum Posts: 1988

Nights of The Realm - - - for the Night Comp

May nights used to last
for twenty-four hours
deep in the bowels
of sadness and depression
where thoughts of morbidity
were worn like an overcoat
Razors practice in darkness
a cutting preamble before
a serious suicidal attempt
from plans written in blood
time, place, method all there
toxic thoughts are full frontal
flashbacks are my reality
the pain, the fear, even the smell
are daily unwanted visitors
that are impossible to avoid
the physical pain is excruciating
alcohol and morphine cocktail
on the rocks with a slice of lime
meds make minds malleable
shattered glass, broken heart
too many pieces to glue together
morphine-induced head injury
sleeping as head hits the desk
I am truly alone in the night
phone calls: None in, none out
standing on the edge of a cliff
too dark to see the black rocks
I teeter, I wobble but don't jump
I want to know what's coming next
heaven, hell, the black page
reincarnation past life progression
there is no salvation
there is no redeemer
there can be no rescue
from who you really are
life is suffering
only death awaits you
you ponder way up yonder
what the fuck are you waiting for?
My guardian angel arrives at my shoulder
she whispers "Everything will be alright."
she whispers many things in my head
she blunts all razors and sharp implements
miraculously she glues my heart back together
although many scars and cracks remain
she brings with her a vision of the light
she encourages me to taste the rainbow
her final truth stifles my breath
"Make enemies into friends, failing that
walk away from those toxic demons"
did not become a fan of human love
Human love in my experience is toxic
alcohol continues to be an enemy
but that is really ok as I walk away
I made friends with the pain
using razors just for shaving
thought of morbidity no longer a foe
I made friends with the loneliness
the isolation, even the depression
but only when I made friends of the dark
I could see and befriend the light
My nights are not so long now
I fill my hours with positive distractions
no longer a deadbeat poet
I am a becoming
Written by David_Macleod (David Macleod)
Go To Page  

Thought Provoker
4awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 13th Jan 2019
Forum Posts: 77

The Night

Have you heard about the time      
what they call the night?      
Well if you ain't, check out this rhyme      
and I’ll fill you in , Alright?      
So it’s that period that comes around      
straight after the end of the day      
In westerns they call it ‘sundown’        
yep, that’s what  the cowboys say      
It’s also when the owls come out      
that's when they like to hunt      
When they see a mouse running about        
they swoop down and grab that cunt      
I once went walking out at night        
through the local park        
I couldn't see much with my sight      
'Cos of the high amount of dark      
In the cold distance I could hear      
Someone's pet dog barking      
In the moonlight shon a naked rear      
T’was a homeless couple fucking        
The clouds moved across the sky      
in front of the full moon      
I started to get scared so I        
whistled a happy tune      
You might know of the song      
‘She’ll be comin’ 'round the mountain’      
And I wasn't whistling long      
before my mind I started doubtin’      
As I heard somebody else      
whistling in harmony      
“Just an echo” I said to myself      
"It's my sound bouncing back to me"      
Yet I quickened up my pace      
sticking to the blue stone path      
Wishing I had a can of mace      
In case it was a psychopath      
There was someone jamming along  
I heard it loud and clear  
Joining in my song  
Causing me to sweat with fear  
As the clouds drifted away  
the faint moonlight came back      
I stopped whistling, so did they     
I took a quick look back      
But I was all alone        
there was nobody else there      
So I quickly ran back home      
and got a fresh pair of underwear        
That's the sort of thing what happens      
if you go walking out at night      
Lots of stalkings and kidnappin’s      
Now lights out and sleep tight      
Written by RexDurkin
Go To Page  

Go to page:
Go to: