Your Poetry Dot Com

Welcome to Your Poetry Dot Com - Read, Rate, Comment on, or Submit Poetry. Browse Poetry Forums, or just enjoy other parts of our poetic community.
One of the largest databases of poetry on the net, now over 198,500+ poems!

Poems On Site: 198,500+ Comments On Poems: 427,000+ Forum Posts: 105,000+

Custom Search


Welcome !	Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link	03-July 20:59:20 AEST

Menu

· Our eBay Store

· Error Submit

Poetry

· Submit Poetry

· Least Read Poems

· Members Listing

· Old Site Post 2001

· Old Site Pre 2001

· Poetry Archive

· Public Domain Poetry

Stories

· Stories (NEW ! )

· Submit Story

· Story Topics

· Stories Archive

· Story Search

Community

· Our Poetry Forums

· Our Arcade
100's of Games !

Site Help

· FAQ

· Feedback

Members Areas

· Your Account

· Members Journals

· Premium Sign-Up

Premium Section

· Special Section

· Premium Poems

· Premium Submit

· Premium Search

· Premium Archive

· Premium Topics

Fun & Games

· Jokes

· Bubble Puzzle

· Cross Word Easy

· Word Hunt

Reference

· Dictionary (Rhyming)

· Site Updates

· Special Content

Search

Top

Help This Site

· Donations

Others

· Moderators

Our Other Sites

· Embroidery Design Store
· Your Jokes
· Special Urls
· JM Embroideries
· Public Domain Poetry and Stories
· Diamond Dotz
· Cooking Info and Recipes
· Quoof - Australian Story

Social

Array ( [sid] => 82597 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => ''Necropolis...'' [time] => 2005-02-02 06:18:27 [hometext] => "Inspiration Exhumed..." [bodytext] => The lych gate chain has been shattered,
And
Feet patter through a ghostly yard.
Brushing through rime,
As a cat through thr golden corn fields
of midsummer.
Bathed in phosphorescence,
Willow-the-wisps in the ebony paved
skies of winter.
Their words are spoken in tongues,
Poetry,
Written by the Gold leaved scribes of he mind.
Faces hidden beneath the cold blanket of night,
Yet their eyes are like crystal stars in an azure heaven,
And their hands are red with blood and guilt.
They arrive like a bustling church at our head stone,
They run vermillion fingers over our epitaph,
And our sacred words drip as if written in paint.
Our skins are as wilted and desecrated as
Rose petals in sand,
Sifting through the gilded hour-glass of time.
We are the muse,
Creativity in a grave,
Our coffin fit for inspiration.
Coveted like redemption.
They are avaricious in our demise.
We are the Nereid's.
As beautiful as doom.
As dead as faith.
And now...
The dirt has been shifted from our
splintered oak sarcophagus,
And there is nothing between our
'six feet under'
And the crowd at our tomb.
As our rest in peace is broken,
For now we lay.
Exhumed.

(c) Bethanie Martell, 10th December 2004 [comments] => 1 [counter] => 191 [topic] => 13 [informant] => xMizeriex [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )

''Necropolis...''

Contributed by xMizeriex on Wednesday, 2nd February 2005 @ 06:18:27 AM in AEST
Topic: DarkPoetry

The lych gate chain has been shattered,
And
Feet patter through a ghostly yard.
Brushing through rime,
As a cat through thr golden corn fields
of midsummer.
Bathed in phosphorescence,
Willow-the-wisps in the ebony paved
skies of winter.
Their words are spoken in tongues,
Poetry,
Written by the Gold leaved scribes of he mind.
Faces hidden beneath the cold blanket of night,
Yet their eyes are like crystal stars in an azure heaven,
And their hands are red with blood and guilt.
They arrive like a bustling church at our head stone,
They run vermillion fingers over our epitaph,
And our sacred words drip as if written in paint.
Our skins are as wilted and desecrated as
Rose petals in sand,
Sifting through the gilded hour-glass of time.
We are the muse,
Creativity in a grave,
Our coffin fit for inspiration.
Coveted like redemption.
They are avaricious in our demise.
We are the Nereid's.
As beautiful as doom.
As dead as faith.
And now...
The dirt has been shifted from our
splintered oak sarcophagus,
And there is nothing between our
'six feet under'
And the crowd at our tomb.
As our rest in peace is broken,
For now we lay.
Exhumed.

(c) Bethanie Martell, 10th December 2004

Copyright © xMizeriex ... [ 2005-02-02 06:18:27]
(Date/Time posted on site)

Advertisments:

Previous Posted Poem | | Next Posted Poem

Sorry, comments are no longer allowed for anonymous, please register for a free membership to access this feature and more

All comments are owned by the poster. Your Poetry Dot Com is not responsible for the content of any comment.
That said, if you find an offensive comment, please contact via the FeedBack Form with details, including poem title etc.

Re: ''Necropolis...'' (User Rating: 1 )
by ladyfawn on Wednesday, 2nd February 2005 @ 06:45:18 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

brilliant, creative, and clever... keep writing:) hugs n' love nessa

@->>->:-

While every care is taken to ensure the general sites content is family safe, our moderators cannot be in all places; all the time. Please report poetry and or comments that are in breach of our site rules HERE (Please include poem title or url). Parents also please ensure that you supervise your children well when they are on the internet; regardless of what a site says about being, or being considered, child-safe.

Poetry is much like a great photo, a single "moment in time" capturing many feelings and emotions. Yet, they are very alive; creating stirrings within the readers who form visual "pictures" of the expressed emotions within the Poem. ©

Opinions expressed in the poetry, comments, forums etc. on this site are not necessarily those of this site, its owners and/or operators; but of the individuals who post items to this site.
Frequently Asked Questions | | | Privacy Policy | | | Contact Webmaster

All submitted items are Copyright © to their submitter. All the rest Copyright © 2002-2050 by Your Poetry Dot Com

All logos and trademarks in this site are property of their respective owners.

Script Generation Time: 0.052 Seconds. - View our Site Map | .© your-poetry.com