Array ( [sid] => 121134 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Dark Hour [time] => 2006-06-01 21:34:36 [hometext] => [bodytext] => The old man sits to plan a
Terrible crime..
He wanted his revenge for
His wife deeds of meanness
He prepared his revenge for
Months and months on end
Until he decided, it was the
World’s perfect crime
He would target his prey
In the midst of midnight hour
He figure the darkness would
Shield him from suspicious
Eyes
He could not, would not be
Found guilty of any crime
He would lurk behind bushes
And crawl upon his knees but
The night must be black where
Eyes could not see
The instrument of crime he
Would bury..
Deep under his cellar floor
Than lay each plank as neatly
As before,
People would not call him the
Madman of hell own gates
Because all terrible things done
Know one would no..
His wife would never guess he
Plotted such a devious crime,
He wanted her to suffer in the
Worst kind of way
He counted every night until
The right moment would come
The darkest hour in the midst
Of the midnight,
I cannot say what instrument
He thought he would use,
His mind was slightly delusional
And haunted by his own fears
But all was just a dark dream
He discovered…
He awaken the next morning
Still stunned by this terrible
Dream..
He than realized how much
He loved his wife..
And could not bear one moment
Without her by his side
So he buried all his fears and
The revenge he sort in his
Dark dreams
[comments] => 2 [counter] => 297 [topic] => 13 [informant] => candysears [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Dark Hour


Dark Hour
Date: Thursday, 1st June 2006 @ 09:34:36 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: candysears
The old man sits to plan a
Terrible crime..
He wanted his revenge for
His wife deeds of meanness
He prepared his revenge for
Months and months on end
Until he decided, it was the
World’s perfect crime
He would target his prey
In the midst of midnight hour
He figure the darkness would
Shield him from suspicious
Eyes
He could not, would not be
Found guilty of any crime
He would lurk behind bushes
And crawl upon his knees but
The night must be black where
Eyes could not see
The instrument of crime he
Would bury..
Deep under his cellar floor
Than lay each plank as neatly
As before,
People would not call him the
Madman of hell own gates
Because all terrible things done
Know one would no..
His wife would never guess he
Plotted such a devious crime,
He wanted her to suffer in the
Worst kind of way
He counted every night until
The right moment would come
The darkest hour in the midst
Of the midnight,
I cannot say what instrument
He thought he would use,
His mind was slightly delusional
And haunted by his own fears
But all was just a dark dream
He discovered…
He awaken the next morning
Still stunned by this terrible
Dream..
He than realized how much
He loved his wife..
And could not bear one moment
Without her by his side
So he buried all his fears and
The revenge he sort in his
Dark dreams


This poem is Copyright © candysears


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