This is a long poem I spent weeks on, about a dark land of fantasy. I'd love a second opinion on it!




Mournful maidens masochistic,

Darkly pretty queens narcissistic,

Slip a princess the apple, poisoned, green-purple swirled,

Watched as under the force of the magic her bloodied corpse curled,

Goblins, gnomes, fairies, dwarves and witches,

Discarded potions lying in ditches,

Forming a river of rainbow spark,

Eerie and surreal in the dark,

Even teddy-bears aren’t safe and cute here,

Out from window ledges they leer,

Glass eyes flooded with crimson red,

Fanged, rough coats, they want you dead,

Unicorns are black and silvery grey,

They live in this town where it’s never day,

Not the friendly fairytale creatures with their manes the colour of corn,

These creature’s dearest ambition is to stab you with it’s horn,

Princesses like Goth Cindarellas live here,

Like gothic barbies and frozen and knowing no fear,

Suicidal vampiresses who drug themselves ‘til they don’t know their name,

For them death is the prize, life’s a rough game,

Their smudged grey pencil suicide notes,

Are all fifty pages about their misery and loathes,

Darkness and mist surrounds their cottages now,

The lilies are withered, the willows all bow,

Rain streaks the window even when the darkness is fine,

The sun never rises from behind mountains, alpine,

With all the glitter and cheer of a mortuary,

Every book is like something from Satan’s library,

Every corner you turn is fraught with murder and blood,

The darkness swamps the land like a flood,

Pictures of darkness flash through our minds,

The silence deafens, the darkness blinds,

The pixies bite,

The goblins fight,

The world crashes and clashes around us all day,

Just because we can’t see it doesn’t mean its array,

Of amazing and horrible things isn’t there,

If you could see it, it would do more than scare,

With shock, amazement and sick delight,

The fantasy land of horror and night,


The moon glares down, red, crimson and white,

On the black velvet sky the stars are diamonds, bright,

Fire rages in the burning wood,

Those flames don’t spread even though they should,

Rock music blares from the silver-stone bars,

With the hanging lanterns full of fallen stars,

Gothic angels and fairies wander around,

Wanting murderous shrieks, they love the sound,

Bodies hang from the trees and the windows of towers,

Blood dripping down like scarlet rain showers,

The body and blood of the suicides,

Soon gathered up and shoved into the river’s tides,

The river is deep with mud, blood and sand,

Not to forget all those bodies from the monstrous land,

The river flows through many of the roads,

Dusty, cracked black tarmac with ravens, loads,

The ravens pick at human skeletons and bones,

Of slaves who were once lead around and followed like clones,

The dusty roads are long and black,

The journey’s a geographical torture rack,

Dragons light the orange-brown sand aflame,

But I suppose they’re not to blame,

Their hunger rekindles their anger deep,

Now they’ve no life, they can barely sleep,

They drink the poisoned river’s drink,

Dirty water, cool as an ice rink,

The taste of the dead doesn’t bother the beast,

The ice-cold blood doesn’t deter them in the least,

This horrid little land houses an array,

Of creatures and happening that’ll keep you away.


The alpine mountains dominate,

A dark fantasy land our thoughts did create,

Our nightmares, fears, horrors and strife,

Brought this evil land to life,

Loveless, lawless road into hell,

But some creature love it, you can tell,

They lie in darkness, in misery they bask,

No emotion, soul covered in a mask,

The mermaids aren’t your fanciful sort,

They look like a fairytale that went into distort,

Hair ranging from silver, green black and more,

Evil killers to the core,

Their world is portrayed as evil and dark,

The portrayer is right, creature’s hearts are stark,

Lockets holding beads of blood, red and wet,

Hang around the necks of most you’ll have met,

Deep purple eyes hypnotize,

Real eyes realise real lies,

But not these ones that just churn them out,

Through glare of eye and word of mouth,

The house roofs are made of melting metals,

Gardens house black roses with withered petals,

The horses are silvery creatures of misery and nightmare,

Kept in a cold, dusty barn-like underground lair,

All they want is a little love,

But they’ll never go to the angels above,

These equines are the slaves of a million years,

But abuse and anguish is all the specie hears,

Land of darkness, cold and cruel,

Happiness goes against an unspoken rule,

The End

2 comments about this poem Feed