Here are some Goth poems-these are one of my greatest specialties!
Magic Night

There is more light than the full moon here,
Donned in masks and full black robes,
Screams of torment pierce the air,
Flashes of curses and the parting of souls,
Tonight the skies are dappled with stars,
While the group is dappled with bodies,
Of hopeless Muggles, stand no chance,
The Dark Lord raves with no passing glance,
For the sympathy that comes,
To most who see their ashen faces,
The faces of those about to die,
The faces of those who cannot be saved,
And here I stay, beholding the apparitions,
Their wands out and are blasting baout,
One of them belongs to my significant other,
Pale pointed face and sleek blonde hair,
Even here, I can see his cold grey eyes,
Calling me such as a Siren does,
"Come my dear, this is the night,
This is the night be ruled with fright!"
Thus, beyond the Shadow of Doubt,
This, my friends, is Magic Night.

Loves to hate
Uses his head
Cunning as a Serpent
Ill of intentions
Union with Darkness
Slytherin, in heart, mind, and blood

Malevolent aura
Astute in judgment
Light of cleverness
Fickle to be sure
Onward for the cause of evil
Yes to vile deceit

More coming, including more character acrostics

Not-so-Goth poems-I get the distinct impression a lot of people don't feel comfortable reading Goth, so...

Determined
Rival of Harry Potter
Angry
Cracked
Only Slytherin

Manipulative
Artistic
Longs to be great
Frigid
Onto the idea of Pureblood supremacy
Yearns to gain his very own powers

(Frigid can also mean an overall stiff and cold aura. That is what frigid means in this context.)


Never to be messed with
Always looking like she has dung under her nose
Rivetingly mysterious
Carries out her vile intents in silence
Interesting
Secretive
Slytherin, as pure as they come
Acclaimed partner to Lucius Malfoy

Mystical
All Shadows
Lurking
For the right moment to show her
Own true Dark Colors so
Yonder days Terror may be complete

i didnt really understand your second post, but i found the 1st one really lnteresting and i liked it. kewl job! check out mine if u wana- it's under 'marauder poems'

Thanks for reading-I will be SURE to check your out. :hello:
By the way, the second posts? You know what acrostics are of course?
Well, part of that could be that there arelly are very few personality traits that are listed in the books for Narcissa, so I simply conjured up an image that I thought fit. God knows what she is really like, but I believe some of that is accurate to all pictures.
The 5th book proved that Narcissa is no goody-goody. :hello:

wow. I'm just... wow. Magic Night is really cool! So glad I found another Lucius fan! Yay! Write more pro-malfoy poems! Ah, the power of blonde.....

Blonde is the best...I have blonde hair you know... :lol:
Goth style, once again.

What to Feel

Here are all the things I feel,
Betrayal,
Because my sister did not free my Lucius,
Melancholy,
For I want to see him so,
Fear,
For it is hopeless and what if I am next?
Anger,
For the insult to my passion,
Hope,
For all this adversity, we will be stronger,
Joy,
For I know wxactly what to do!

This preceeding one describes Narcissa'a feelings after her husband's imprisonment.
And so does this one, but here it actually describes the plan.

Long Sought Refuge (The Chamber under the Drawing Room Floor)

So silent, so dark,
Thus far untouched by outsiders,
My love imprisoned,
My fury released,
I dwell here once again.

It is my wish to make them pay,
To curse as he himself has threatened,
Carry out his noble work,
Testimony to my faith.

So my Lucius, you will see,
I swear to make you proud of me,
For beneath our drawing room floor,
Horrors for the doomed in great store.

No one shall suspect a thing,
So clever is my cunning facade,
For I, Narcissa, yes, Dark Witch,
Have no time to waste on sadness.

See, it's like a sequel.
This lest one for now describes the Tom Riddle's and the Basilisk's rule over Hogwarts in CoS

Stony Demise

Oh, those Mudblood wand'rers,
The very ground they trod,
Echoes with the ominous,
And so soon they face.

Slither so stealthily within these walls,
Cold and silver eyes,
Wait to meet the gaze of the ill-fated,
Strike thee and thee dies.

The blood of the enemy* drips,
So warm and rusty-red,
With thy fingers, you depict,
My reign of terror lies ahead.

Purge the school of the Children of Filth,
Cleanse the school of Dishon-rable stain,
I shall bring about so swiftly,
Their pitifully Stony End.

*Rooster-the crow of which is fatal to the Basilisk. Ginny used rooster blood to write the ghastly messages on the wall.

More coming soon, if you keep reading!
Including Lucius Malfoy-specific poems. Yes, he is the greatest! :hello: :sorcerer:

Yay! I'm just so glad I found another Pro-Lucius person out there! Can't wait for ur new poems!

Here are a couple of shorter ones.

The Galleon Master

The laws and morals of loving fools,
Mean nothing in the face of gold,
Silver, bronze, and charm,
And of this my great tales are told.

Hidden within is rise to power,
Deeds of terror, deeds of Dark,
Yet the Darkest will lose that steely sheen,
Facing the glory of monetary worth so stark.

Reach down into my fathomless pockets,
So to carry out my clever plan,
The ease with which I meet my desires,
Is nothing I couldn't bear to stand!

Lucius Malfoy's wealth is frequently his refuge!

It is Below Me

The stinking mold, the freezing dampness,
The cavernous empy space,
That space that supposedly once held my emotions?
No-for such things are below me!

This wretched place that serves no purpose,
In spite of the bars and formidable seas,
Even the foulest, these Azkaban gaurds-
Such things are below us both!

I shant stay, to soothe their fear,
Nor succumb to the dominance not of the Lord,
The Lord Voldemort I and fellow Death Eaters proudly serve,
Nearly all others-they are simply below us all!

It is not my wish to withold my service,
Neither my wish to bow to thee,
Thee who are the object of my enmity,
It is you who are all quite simply below me.

By the way, I have a character FF too-called the Youngest Follower. It has lots of excitement, evil, Death Eaters, blah-blah-blah-do i really need to spell it out?
Just as a final dash for motivation though-it has a lot-a lot-of Lucius!
Want to take a look? I solemnly promise to to both equal, well deserved, and fabulous justice. :evil: :evil:

Nicely done Lucio! I'm addicted to your poems! :flowersmile: Great job!

Here's another one.

How Lucius felt when he proposed to Narcissa.

My Lovely, The One

Silv'ry orblike eyes, flowing blonde hair,
Shrewd expression on that thoughful face,
Tall and sturdy, pale like the moon,
It is Narcissa, my lovely, the One.

Clever, witty, Dark, melancholic,
Striking, powerful, and yes choleric,
By all Forces, Malevolent,
It is Narcissa, my lovely, the One.

Here, my dear, I present this ring,
Oh the joy I promise to bring,
Do accept, with heart and soul,
For you are Narcissa, my lovely, the One.

How I hold you dear to my heart,
How suited we are, both Forces of Dark,
No Wizard and Witch were ever so bonded,
For we are Lucius and Narcissa, the Team, the One. :sorcerer:
Enjoy!

Dark Sorceress

Do you know who I am?
Seen my face in the Daily Prophet,
A Most Wanted Witch, perhaps?

Do you know what I am?
A lovely young wife of an upstanding Wizard,
All but behind Manor doors?

Do you know the job I do?
The helping hand on my husband's shoulder,
the deaths of so many Mudbloods our doing?

The answers are no, yes, and yes, and why...

You've never caught a glimpse of my face,
A Dark Witch here, such an incredible place,
Such a danger iminent,
Should by now, some vision sent?
No, for I am that, a dark Sorceress,
I am that face that's hidden in the shadows

The Power of Blonde

Lucius and Narcissa,
The Dark Dream Team,
The absolute cleverest of the lot,
Ah, the Power of Blonde.

Narcissa, the Mistress,
The artful Death Phantom,
Slipping by, not leaving a trace,
Behold, the Power of Blonde.

Lucius, Upstanding Ministry Master,
Keeper of the Galleons' Power,
Heart as icy as your stare,
Ah, the Power of Blonde.

Partners in life and in crime,
Superior, merciless, and sublime,
The silvery sheen of white-blonde hair,
That Dazzling Power of Blonde!

AAAAAAH YOU WRITE ACROSTICS!!!!! I THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY PERSON WHO DID THAT! ok im done! those were all amazing! i loved them! (but i seriously did think i was the only person who wrote acrostics! very very very very very very well done!

Ha, ha! The power of blonde! Really good! Nicely done! :flowersmile:

Yes, I love acrostics!
Here's one.

Snakey
Lethal
Yearning for power
Treacherous
Hence the name
Ethereal
Ready
Intelligent
Never to be defeated.

Sinister

Sinister is in my nasty smile,
Sinister is resting within my deep pockets,
Sinister is reflecting in silver eyes,
Sinister is Lucius Malfoy.

Sinister is in my odd shaped face,
Sinister pervades my aura Black,
Sinister is waiting, poised to strike,
Sinister is Narcissa Malfoy.

Sinister is fleeting as the Snitch,
Sinister is slick, and handsome too,
Sinister is the pride and joy of the Night,
Sinister is Draco Malfoy.

Sinister is blind to all but power,
Sinister is perceptive of obstacles stolid,
Sinister is real and resting here,
Sinister is the world as it is made.

That was cool. All the sneaky sounding S's! Masterfully done!

Okay, back to work.

Knockturn Alley

Meeting all your Dark Arts needs,
Favorite of the Master Great,
Dodgy, dusty, the likes of Evil,
Don't want anyone to catch you down there.


Poisonous candles are lit by Night,
The strayed are devoured by the Darkness,
Driven to the Other Side,
You're never getting out of there.

Do I dare enter the Alley?
I feel its eyes watching me closely,
I feel its clutches immersing me,
Hauntingly, tauntingly, joylessly,
Scornful.

I was half asleep when I wrote this, but I think it is an excellent poem all the same.I promise I'll have more later, but I'm still tired, okay? See y'all. :hello:

I'm sorry, but I love writing Gothic poems.

The Kiss of Death

Hooded Horrors abound this Night,
Chilling the blood of the enemies in sight,
The Moonlight cast shodows so ominous,
The Night is kissed by Silent Fright.

The growing dread of the Wizarding World,
Is pleasing to the Dark Lord, told,
By his minions and ones in power,
Of coming defeat, all voices cold.

As the sun slips by this evening,
The lucky the sunrise shall be seeing,
For sunrise bears new hope, new promise,
So many have only Misfortune seething.

Futile refuge some have sought,
Either way, they all were caught,
Do beware, as the Moon makes its presence,
The path the Hooded Horrors trod.

Love it! Gothic poems are your style and you have pretty much mastered it! Great job! :flowersmile:

Ever wondered what motivates the Death Eaters to commit the crimes that land them in Azkaban? :evil:

Wanting to Kill

My fury builds, and still I stand,
Waiting, waiting, try to hold,
My rage and torment in,
All the while, my blood runs cold.

I watch it happen, let it be,
Never letting myself cry,
I'm seeing blurry, longing, longing,
To shut my eyes.

Shut the images in my head,
The breaks of necks, the flow of
Bright, red blood on my hands,
Empty of mercy and empty of love.

Shuddering, I revel in that sight,
Caring not, their cries or pleas,
Just one blow, and so I might,
End all my rage by which I'm seized.

I crumple to the floor, yet,
And just wish my pain would go away...

See, they do this all their lives until they can't hold it in anymore, and needless to say, the effects were disastrous. :evil:

Wow- I like your poetry- write more soon!

The Voice of the Celestas

When words fail, and sight is naught,
Music successfully the answers sought,
This Night holds me captive,
In Silence I live.

There is no home, in the light of day,
No voice that is silent enough to listen,
Yet rings with the Penetrating Note of Despair,
And Mystery and Joy in my Life be living there.

Shining like the Moon and Stars,
Misting the thoughts with Blissful Contentment,
Swathing emotions of Rage and Sadness,
Nothing does this like the Voice of Celestas.

The celesta is one of my favorite instruments and a very commonly featured one in the HP soundtracks. This is what comes to mind when I think of celestas. Later, I will write about how the flute and other instruments influence me.

these are really good!

This poem reflects the feelings and perceptions of those with autism/PDD. Some of these lines are what the outside world thinks the a/PDD person thinks and feels, others are what they actually think and feel.

Veil of Silence (Referring the the autistic/PDD people who do not talk, because many do-and many do don't talk now will in the future)

Whenever she spoke, the words were contorted,
She felt so far away from the world of others,
She is0 forever silent to the world around her,
Which is constantly ringing with noise.

How do you function or have some real fun?
Not only how, what, when, where, but why
You act as you do? Inside she tells herself,
Is this a bad thing? And why?

She tells herself she is fine, the people cannot know,
Spend one day, thinking, living as I do!
Of course, those around her fall to accusations,
But this is no one's fault!

The bliss of her silent world invaded,
There is no room to mourn,
She has to fight,
To hold herself up,
To defend her weakened ability to be here...
And the fault is always hers.

The gave her a doll-she does not wish to play,
They fed her some meat on her plate, as though she'd really eat it!
When everyone watching, less and less went on,
More poking and prodding was given silence...silence...silence.

Between her and her family, classmates,
And the world- is forever drawn a veil,
A veil that never speaks or hears,
A Veil of Silence.

Hate

Hate is something,
That feeds on you,
Long before
You feed off of
It.

The Pride of the Hogwarts Houses

Slytherins, they conquer,
Gryffindors roar,
Hufflepuff, be joyous,
Ravenclaws soar.


The Fatal Dogma

Of course,
Children should be seen and not heard,
The seven words,
The Fatal Dogma,
That rules our society,
And robs the children,
Of their only defense-
Their voices.
Without their voices,
The children die silent, and bitter, and angry,
An undeserved demise.
We lose the promise,
That kept us alive,
To the self-hate,
That the Fatal Dogma bestowed,
The seven words, the Fatal Dogma,
The Bete Noir,
To all those who belive in the future of our children,
And the hope for our world.
The hard-won victories,
Of any child, of overt defense to this rule,
Crumble to ashes,
The glorious phoenix has no chance,
And not a prayer,
Of a birth after death.
By the Fatal Dogma.
The hoped for demise,
Of such a dogmatic fool,
Starts with the embracing of the truth,
The value of our children,
And their one defense.
When stripped of defense, the children become victims,
Of their own silence.
With these seven words, the Fatal Dogma,
The adults run free, single-handedly, inadvertently,
Slash the hearts and now futile wishes,
Of a child whose silence was not welcome.
When a child is a victim,
Silence the deadliest blow,
Society is a victim, it own Dogma the one culprit,
And society-and the world-
Pay the evil price of this Dogma,
And most crushing of all, is the omnipresent truth,
When children are the resilient but downtrodden victims,
When the children pay the bitterly high price,
As it is the adults who commit,
The Hideous Crime.


When you stand now broken,
As you are, as we remain,
dreams and fears alike are slain,
Here we collected their many shards,
Walk the Path of Life again.