Submissions by gothicsurrealism (Daniel Long)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I have been writing since the age of 10, and still feel the same powerful energy to create a story and to intrigue those who read my work. I write dark, surreal poetry and short stories. I also have several novel manuscripts in the works I hope to publish
LOVE POEM
Published
3rd Dec 2018 10:56pm
3rd Dec 2018 10:56pm
Tear Path
I let you rest your face
upon mine,
when you feel as so.
Your river runs calm,
and free,
from its ocean.
Crossing my cheek
from yours;
quietly down.
Leaving its path
of eye-shadow
behind.
upon mine,
when you feel as so.
Your river runs calm,
and free,
from its ocean.
Crossing my cheek
from yours;
quietly down.
Leaving its path
of eye-shadow
behind.
#sadness
#love
#relationships #river
#relationships #river
498 reads
2 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
3rd Dec 2018 2:57pm
3rd Dec 2018 2:57pm
I Wish of You
To
shut out persistent
shivers,
of lonely night,
with a
fiery embrace.
shut out persistent
shivers,
of lonely night,
with a
fiery embrace.
#love
#relationships
461 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
2nd Dec 2018 8:11pm
2nd Dec 2018 8:11pm
Without You
Coming storm I am,
drifting, distant,
dampness of rain
from afar
sodden your lips.
Closer, the storm carries
in gentle arms
of swift winds,
each drop
of tear-showers.
drifting, distant,
dampness of rain
from afar
sodden your lips.
Closer, the storm carries
in gentle arms
of swift winds,
each drop
of tear-showers.
#sadness
#rain
#storm #wind
#storm #wind
461 reads
2 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
2nd Dec 2018 8:08pm
2nd Dec 2018 8:08pm
Your Irises' Cry
Those floating candles.
Passing by
along those steady streams.
A burning incense.
Dripping wax
upon those vanilla sticks.
Puddles now at their lids.
Dried to a still,
past burns are seen.
Passing by
along those steady streams.
A burning incense.
Dripping wax
upon those vanilla sticks.
Puddles now at their lids.
Dried to a still,
past burns are seen.
#love
381 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
1st Dec 2018 9:23pm
1st Dec 2018 9:23pm
My Shattering
I’m not weird, I’m unique.
Oh the power of the dark poet!
Bound to this dwelling,
days’ whispering glow
glimmers drawn shades.
Oh distant star!
My home a cellar;
your caring reach far too indistinct
to warm this mausoleum.
There’s one cadaver here.
Does it ever utter?
Am I really here?
She just passed!
From across the street,
through these prison bars,
I saw her walk on by.
Had she been a ghost too,
would have she noticed me?
Must death be the only way?
I’ll...
Oh the power of the dark poet!
Bound to this dwelling,
days’ whispering glow
glimmers drawn shades.
Oh distant star!
My home a cellar;
your caring reach far too indistinct
to warm this mausoleum.
There’s one cadaver here.
Does it ever utter?
Am I really here?
She just passed!
From across the street,
through these prison bars,
I saw her walk on by.
Had she been a ghost too,
would have she noticed me?
Must death be the only way?
I’ll...
#love
#ghosts
#graveyard #FeelingTrapped
#graveyard #FeelingTrapped
536 reads
3 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
1st Dec 2018 7:53pm
1st Dec 2018 7:53pm
Maimed Visage
There’s scars you’ve left behind
in me, on me,
emotional wounds
never vanish.
Flagellated this face,
choked this heart,
gushes of red-stained tears
from these lacerated eyes.
Scarify my cheeks
with streams of
white-hot memories
…damn you!
in me, on me,
emotional wounds
never vanish.
Flagellated this face,
choked this heart,
gushes of red-stained tears
from these lacerated eyes.
Scarify my cheeks
with streams of
white-hot memories
…damn you!
#sadness
#anger
#memories
414 reads
2 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
1st Dec 2018 1:04pm
1st Dec 2018 1:04pm
The Grey Man and His Corpse
Fierce gusts of icy sleet sheared their faces.
Behind them, deep red footprints in the snow.
A grey man carried a body, hollow of air, she was dusted in cherry flakes of snow.
A glacial tear had wandered down her stiff cheek from a moon that was once her starry eye.
Into the snowy fray these hollowed red footpaths meander on,
into his wintry, black mind no one followed.
Beyond the black, wicked spikes of leafless trees,
into the evening blue, his soulless spirit danced.
He took her frozen hand and she held on tight. ...
Behind them, deep red footprints in the snow.
A grey man carried a body, hollow of air, she was dusted in cherry flakes of snow.
A glacial tear had wandered down her stiff cheek from a moon that was once her starry eye.
Into the snowy fray these hollowed red footpaths meander on,
into his wintry, black mind no one followed.
Beyond the black, wicked spikes of leafless trees,
into the evening blue, his soulless spirit danced.
He took her frozen hand and she held on tight. ...
#sadness
#dark
#death
#winter
#snow
616 reads
1 Comment
LOVE POEM
Published
1st Dec 2018 11:45am
1st Dec 2018 11:45am
Eye-Candles
Candles within your eyes,
illumines my shadow.
Lonely in the dim I was,
there’s now a glow to follow.
illumines my shadow.
Lonely in the dim I was,
there’s now a glow to follow.
#love
#loneliness
#night #shadows
#night #shadows
549 reads
2 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
30th Nov 2018 7:00pm
30th Nov 2018 7:00pm
Glimmer Within the Dark Poet
The world’s most surrealistic poems originate from beings who question their own grip on reality! Why is this? Because we acknowledge our differences from “ordinary”, so we’re at the advantage of possessing analytical mentalities. The study of the world around us and ourselves makes us philosophers! Words of the metaphor enrich our poetic vernacular. Dark Poets! Gothic Writers! Apostles of Gothic-Surrealistic literature! Take hold of the reins and preserve our command of the English Tongue! We’re the most audacious when writing our minds. Our work is art. I shall do my part in the show! ...
#dark
#gothic
#WritingPoetry
437 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
30th Nov 2018 6:51pm
30th Nov 2018 6:51pm
A New Light
Why should I be
what it wants?
Occasions of giving-in, may self-ascend.
Is there guiltless surrender?
Abandoning what you’ve blueprinted
and constructed for yourself.
Much of what I’ve held onto in the past
has rusted my soul.
Now, I feel regenerated.
There’s purpose I now see to fulfill.
I let go of life’s pleasures,
creating my long awaited literary form.
Incompatible with the world;
I’ve known this for half my life.
May still be fragile,
I bend not nor...
what it wants?
Occasions of giving-in, may self-ascend.
Is there guiltless surrender?
Abandoning what you’ve blueprinted
and constructed for yourself.
Much of what I’ve held onto in the past
has rusted my soul.
Now, I feel regenerated.
There’s purpose I now see to fulfill.
I let go of life’s pleasures,
creating my long awaited literary form.
Incompatible with the world;
I’ve known this for half my life.
May still be fragile,
I bend not nor...
#MentalHealth
452 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
30th Nov 2018 10:40am
30th Nov 2018 10:40am
Decapitated Mind
Beheaded I lay.
Guillotined and paraded.
Eyes of my veiled executioner
screamed a merciless human nature.
A killed man
I am.
Had I been born into noble upbringings,
would have death adjourned… egotism procuring time?
I don’t know.
I’ll just be me, no more, no less.
My body could be destroyed.
Memory’s how I’ll live on.
Even in death,
one can have touches of emotionality.
My words will be read and absorbed…
we’ll see how toxic they’ll be!
Please don’t...
Guillotined and paraded.
Eyes of my veiled executioner
screamed a merciless human nature.
A killed man
I am.
Had I been born into noble upbringings,
would have death adjourned… egotism procuring time?
I don’t know.
I’ll just be me, no more, no less.
My body could be destroyed.
Memory’s how I’ll live on.
Even in death,
one can have touches of emotionality.
My words will be read and absorbed…
we’ll see how toxic they’ll be!
Please don’t...
#dark
#murder
#death
404 reads
0 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
29th Nov 2018 6:41pm
29th Nov 2018 6:41pm
Savannah's Headstone
Sheila is and always was a schizophrenic. This misery has haunted her since the dolls in school shifted their eyes to her – whispering… she still hears them. Shrieking glasses in the cabinet… no they were only fracturing, shattering when she slammed her own head through the cabinet door. Oddities plagued her mind more so than the fresh taste of reality.
“Sorry” she’d say to herself aloud for believing nonsensical delusions, for even believing flowers come into blossom because they have eyes, parting their petals to see the sun. She still swears those dolls looked at her.
...
“Sorry” she’d say to herself aloud for believing nonsensical delusions, for even believing flowers come into blossom because they have eyes, parting their petals to see the sun. She still swears those dolls looked at her.
...
#love
#heartbroken
#friendship
#death
#graveyard
579 reads
1 Comment
DU Poetry : Submissions by gothicsurrealism (Daniel Long)
