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If you are still unsure as to what exactly is an Undead PoetTM, click here to find out.

To become an Official Member of the Undead Poets SocietyTM, with all appurtenant rights and privileges (basically, bragging rights and access to some pretty undead talented poets), one must needs do the following:

  • Follow this site and add it to your blog roll
  • Follow @UndeadPoets on Twitter
  • Reply in the comments on this page/Send me a poem of your creation to post on the site (size does not matter)
  • Comment and post a link to this site on your site, blog, Twitter, etc.
  • That’s basically it. This site is a Poetry Haven for those who wish to imbibe from the fair muse’s cup.

    Rhyme on!
    (Thus spake the Undead)

    http://undeadpoets.comTM

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    213 Responses to Join Us

    1. Pingback: Friday in Verse « Tim Keeton – A Writer's Tale

    2. Pingback: Friday in Verse #undeadpoets | Undead Poets Society

    3. signed .............bkm says:

      Love it… please add me to this one… http://www.soulintention.wordpress.com

      will add to my blogroll

      • Tim Keeton says:

        Absolutely! Will do. If you would like to become a Member of the UDPS, just follow the steps above, and you will be entitled to use the UDPS Member badge shown above.

        • Hey Tim

          Thrilled to have found you Undead Poets…Is Robin Williams among you cuz he’s a pretty funny dude and bet he could help me push through writer’s block …
          😉 I’d like to send you a poem from my latest collection, but can’t find your email…please let me know where to send it, and I’ll get going on adding you to my blogroll, and on Twitter…
          I don’t Tweet much –feels like I’m yelling mundane thoughts out into a giant abyss–but if the UDPS is on there maybe I’ll give it another go…

          (Heather is now following UndeadPoets on Twitter, and sent me the following comment and a poem featured in her latest collection, Leap – Tim)

          Hey Tim

          Very cool site you have going there. Here’s one poem for now– Thanks!

          Progress

          She misses perfumed postcards,
          snail mail letters;
          conversations in cafés
          without the words,
          “hang on, I have to get this call.”

          She misses eye contact:
          knowing gazes and
          flirty glances
          that overpower
          the urge to send an SMS
          or answer the sound
          of someone somewhere
          logging into chat.

          She texts and types
          Tweets and Skypes,

          then sleeps outside
          where stars and
          fireflies decorate the
          infinite darkness.

          Heather Grace Stewart

          Author, poet, photojournalist

          http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=10472102530

          Latest Releases

          http://stores.lulu.com/heathergracestewart

          Where the Butterflies Go -Poetry and Photography

          http://www.hgstewart.wordpress.com

        • Tim Keeton says:

          Velcome Official Member of the UDPS!

          then sleeps outside
          where stars and
          fireflies decorate the
          infinite darkness.

          I like that imagery. I also really liked the first stanza. How very nicely (undead)old-fashioned of you.

          I have added your site to our blogroll, and you are welcome to use the Member Badge (above) on your site, etc. You also have Contributor rights to this site, so please feel free to wax poetic.

          Rhyme on!

        • Hey i would love to join this site my good friend penchirps (chris) has really inspired me and has given me another outlet to unleash these clutterd thoughts… i have a blog but its very new and my first one so im still working on it but its http://curtdiggity.blogspot.com/ well i guess im done with the formalities…my poem

          *I Fell in Love..*
          They were perfect and warm…. they tasted like a sweet fragance they looked delectable they smelled like the warmth of the sun, they sounded like a bright light…they were so profound that my senses lot all sense there was nothing that they didn’t deserve. I prasied them with touch and caresses, I examined their design, even the imperfections were perfect… I can’t help myself I fell in love…with your hands.

          sorry about mispellings or grammer issues.. curtis, aka curtdiggity

        • Tim Keeton says:

          Velcome! Thanks for the poem. I have added you to our blogroll and given you Contributor rights to the UDPS site. You are now allowed to add the Official Member badge to your blog, etc.

          Rhyme on!
          (Thus spake the Undead.)

        • JULIA KNEALE says:

          Hi Tim, looks like a great site.Your link is now on my blogroll.I’m sending my most recently written poem.Best wishes, Julia.

          SAMHAIN.

          Hecate told me in my sleep
          to draw a circle round the past
          with candles fragrancing cold air.
          So widdershins,I chanted peace
          and comfort to the ’60s child
          (the one I swear who looked like me).
          In pink clouds learned to laugh at tears.
          Black velvet cat,familiar now,
          unblinking all the while.
          So mote it be.

        • Tim Keeton says:

          Velcome Julia! Lovely poem.

          Hmm, widdershins rather than deosil, eh?

          I have added you to our blogroll and given you Contributor rights to UDPS. You are now allowed to use the Official Member Badge on your site.

          Rhyme on!
          (Thus mote the Undead be)

      • I love this site and am hoping to join.I write mostly poetry in rhyme,and have been published a couple of times.

      • JULIA KNEALE says:

        Wish I’d found the site sooner! Will add you to my blog roll.Cheers, Julia.

    4. signed .............bkm says:

      The Night’s Wings

      I left Walden Pond
      and met you near the wood
      you stood between
      the moss and morning
      in the shadow of the crest

      there was a moment
      one moment
      where I could sense
      more than I could see
      my vision altered
      by the pure completeness
      I felt in loving thee

      what sense- this sensibility?
      worth a mere mortals thought-
      if timelessness
      not past through
      with life’s full measure
      left unsought

      most travelers find no rest –
      on such a road
      without formal bedding
      said I to the Raven –
      “Call the night,
      and this forest becomes my heaven.”

      bkmackenzie
      copyrighted 2008

      One of my favorites…. http://www.soulintention.wordpress.com

      added to twitter and blogroll will post a link today thanks

      • Tim Keeton says:

        Verrry nice! I like it a lot.

        I believe this is my favorite stanza:

        what sense- this sensibility?
        worth a mere mortals thought-
        if timelessness
        not past through
        with life’s full measure
        left unsought

        Velcome to the Undead Poets Society, fellow (Official) Member! I have given you Contributor rights so please feel free to submit poems whenever you like.

        Rhyme on!

    5. signed .............bkm says:
    6. christel42 says:

      Awesome! Sign me up! http://christel42.wordpress.com/
      Here’s a link to my latest WIP: http://christel42.wordpress.com/2010/05/08/darkness/

      • Tim Keeton says:

        Velcome Official Member of the UDPS!

        I liked the imagery of comparing darkness with fire.

        I have added your site to our blogroll, and you are welcome to use the Member Badge (above) on your site, etc. You also have Contributor rights to this site, so please feel free to wax poetic.

        Rhyme on!

    7. Joe Suzz says:

      thanks for the invite, and yeah im in.

      please post this poem. it is rather dear to my heart.
      http://joesuzz.wordpress.com/2010/05/25/peace-beyond-understanding-a-poem/

      I added you to my blog roll, and im not sure what the blog roll thing is but your on it! lol. well, good luck,
      joe

      (Joe posted this awesome poem to his site and I have transferred it here – Tim)

      Peace Beyond Understanding: A Poem

      this is a poem I wrote when i was watching some of my friends go through so crazy storms in life. When someone’s life ends suddenly, nothing makes sense. It is easy to make sense in times of calm seas, but when the storms come; sometimes we ask God, “Why are you sleeping? Don’t you care if we drown?” But in this, we don’t have to know, nor understand, just trust that God won’t abandon us:

      What do we say?
      When the unspeakable
      Happens? And life is left in ruin?
      We see and feel the rubble,
      And we know what was,
      Will never be again,
      Will there be peace beyond understanding?
      Because we will not understand.

      If one day man would live again,
      Then I can vaguely discern a plan.
      If the grave and soil is not the end,
      And we see those loved and lost
      And hug and cry and love again,
      And hear “I’m alright, everything is alright,
      Do you see the flowers and green fields?
      The grain and corn knee high,
      And the sun suspended in mountain lined sky?”
      In that moment
      In that twinkling of an eye,
      I will feel home, and see what I could not understand.

      -js

      • Tim Keeton says:

        Velcome Official Member of the UDPS!

        I love the last stanza, particularly:

        If the grave and soil is not the end,
        And we see those loved and lost
        And hug and cry and love again,

        I have added your site to our blogroll, and you are welcome to use the Member Badge (above) on your site, etc. You also have Contributor rights to this site, so please feel free to wax poetic.

        Rhyme on!

    8. Gally says:

      Thanks again for inviting me, Tim!

      Here’s my Twitter post about UDPS: http://twitter.com/cgxlines

      Poem:

      Three Painful Turns of This Little Planet
      Poem by Christine Lines, © 2008

      Three painful turns
      ___of this little planet.

      I stepped out of the car
      ___and crossed over the divide.
      From the other side of the street,
      ___my neck fell limp,
      _____my head fell back,
      _______my eyes only had the strength
      _________to watch you leave.

      I ached already.
      I told myself not to succumb
      ___so quickly to your absence.
      So cold.
      The heat of my world,
      ____________my star,
      ____________fading.
      Only the chill clung to me,
      ___choking, piercing, draining;
      _____the icy fangs of an incorporeal vampire
      _______called loneliness–
      _________the unloved lover.

      In the dim winter morning,
      ___the sun struggled to break the horizon,
      _____my once confident strides
      _______became feeble, wasteful, useless.
      _________My head bowed down to oblivion
      ___________and watched my feet
      _____________as they advanced towards
      _______________nothingness.

      The professors’ lectures held emptiness.
      ___The music spoke dissonance.
      _____The job rewarded with discord.
      _______Going home meant crawling back
      _________to a dark corner of the world,
      ___________the once ethereal rooms overflowing
      _____________with love, passion, and security
      _______________reduced to worthless objects–
      _________________destructible, replaceable, mortal.

      Lament.
      Through the rain splattered windshield,
      ___in eyes straining to find purpose,
      _____the sky inundated sorrow,
      _______the clouds fell from the heavens,
      _________dropping to the ground in tears.
      ___________Only the red haze lingered,
      _____________drifting aimlessly
      _______________as the world slowly turned.

      Under the cold sheets of a wide, empty bed,
      ___I can only close my eyes
      _____and try to see your face again,
      _______try to find that spot on your pillow
      _________that still cradles your inimitable scent.
      ___________How long will it be
      _____________before I can no longer imagine
      _______________the warmth of your body next to mine?

      I shiver alone tonight.
      ___But I remember your heat,
      _____the light in your eyes,
      _______the dream in our hearts.
      _________I shall dream of you,
      ___________clutching memories of you tightly,
      _____________deep in the warmest part left
      _______________of the heart that belongs only to you,
      _________________waiting for you to come back to me
      ___________________in three painful turns
      _____________________of this little planet.

    9. Gaurav Sharma says:

      Hey ! I loved this !
      please add me to this…
      I want to join Undead poets
      http://gauravsharma05f.wordpress.com/
      would be waiting for your feedback

      • Tim Keeton says:

        Velcome, Gaurav!
        I have gone ahead and added your site to our blogroll and given you Contributor rights, but to become an Official Member of the Undead Poets Society (and be able to use the badge on your site, etc.), you still need to do the following:

        # Follow this site and add it to your blog roll
        # Follow @UndeadPoets on Twitter
        # Reply in the comments on this page/Send me a poem of your creation to post on the site (size does not matter)
        # Comment and post a link to this site on your site, blog, Twitter, etc.

        That’s basically it. We look forward to having you and your participation.

        Rhyme on!

        • Gaurav Sharma says:

          Title : Describe Yourself

          I gaze long and hard in the mirror,
          And who do I see staring back?
          A person I’ve known for quite some time,
          Lets take the personality-and hack!

          Close to the family, a given,
          But alone in so many ways,
          A very kind heart, though hidden,
          With loyalty that often sways.

          A good friend to those who know me,
          And I hope I would be a loss,
          But watch your back if against me,
          I’m not really a person to cross.

          I’ve sacrificed lots on the work front,
          Progressed when some turned away,
          In the end it has got me nowhere,
          And for that, someone will pay!

          I have a foundation in humour,
          But maybe my serious side,
          Stopped me from laughing as often,
          As I’ve taken this life-long ride.

          Intelligent? Yes, I think so,
          I know how to use my brain,
          My eagerness to demonstrate,
          On occasions, causes me strain.

          On the whole, not a bad person,
          And I know the right from wrong,
          I wonder if, in my life,
          I’ll be singing a similar song?

    10. bluedrew says:

      Hi Tim,
      I’m interested in giving this a shot. Let’s see, I’m already following and I have you on my blogroll. I’ve got you on twitter. Unless I’m mistaken the next step is to send you this poem:

      Unraveling
      by Andrew Viertel

      Tugging a loose thread
      A tapestry unravels
      A life examined

      Here’s the link:
      http://bluedrew.wordpress.com/2010/06/10/unraveling/

      There’s my twitter link:
      http://twitter.com/andrewviertel

      And here’s the link to my blog (it’s not all poetry):
      http://bluedrew.wordpress.com/

      I think that’s about it.

      Thanks,
      Andrew

      • Tim Keeton says:

        Andrew, Velcome!
        I had already added your site to our blogroll, and you are now welcome to use the Member Badge (above) on your site, etc. You also have Contributor rights to this site, so please feel free to wax poetic.

        Rhyme on!

    11. Faceless I Watch.

      Standing on top of the old church tower,
      Creeping up in this slow skylight hour,
      The people below like miniature ants,
      I feel like a voyeur watching them dance.

      This precipice between life and death,
      Between the unknown and angels breath.

      All unaware of my high existence,
      I hover on the old stone ledge
      Below me are the headstones,
      The faded spirits lying dead

      The ancient crumbling stone,
      Is now my own secret tomb.

      This sublime peace in the air,
      And the sunlight glistening bare
      And as the bells start to chime,
      It tells the faceless the right time.

      Its market day all canopies below,
      Red and green then all yellow in a row
      The slight wind carries fruit sellers cries,
      Barely audible to me as i`m perched up in the sky.

      And so i climb down, join vast creatures below,
      The crowd in swarms ending in a mass flow
      I gaze up longingly at the old church tower,
      And reminisce me standing alone for that hour.

      And as i look up again at the ancient roof,
      I remember the time i tasted the truth
      That up in the sky and alone for a while,
      Secret was my existence, faceless was my smile.

      © Steven Michael Pape.(2010)

      • Tim Keeton says:

        Velcome, Steven!
        Very nice work.
        If you wish to join the ranks of the undead, you are nearly there…
        It appears you still need to do the following, and then you will be an official member of the UDPS, and entitled to use the badge (above) on your site, blog, etc.:
        # Follow this site and add it to your blog roll
        # Follow @UndeadPoets on Twitter
        # Comment and post a link to this site on your site, blog, Twitter, etc.

        Rhyme on!

    12. Great site and poetry on here, one thing though is i don`t go on Twitter only Facebook but i will post a link now to this site….

      Steven Michael Pape.

    13. Time Is The Element.

      We waste our time, no appreciation,
      Time in all its cruelty and convention.
      Dead time for the prisoners pacing the cell,
      Time is pain for the evil dwelling in hell.
      No time for the ill dying in their beds,
      Or time left for relatives and words left unsaid.

      Time is our saviour our enemy too,
      Flowing like water, sticking like glue
      Work and its time all standing still,
      Excess and laughter no time to kill
      Time will stop for us one far off day,
      But be left for others to dwindle away.

      Time is the element, time is the call,
      When were talking to others or facing the wall
      Time like a tap slowly dripping away,
      Ending yet starting every single day
      Time is the wristwatch broken and smashed,
      And also the hands, frozen time in the glass.

      Time can be freedom yet time can go fast,
      We should cherish each day, for our time that still lasts.

      (c) Steven Michael Pape.2010 http://stevepape.moonfruit.com

    14. Life In A Gunsight.

      I heard on the news yet again tonight,
      Another soldier killed, life in a gunsight
      And these children fighting far from home,
      As their relatives await news by the phone.

      Blood in the forgotten land amidst all the contraband,
      And the trigger that is pulled by the youngest hand
      This government war, bullet casings on the floor,
      As the tanks thunder on and the bombs all roar.

      Agonized protests in these days of unrest,
      A mere tool of the state in bullet-proof vests
      Caught up in a web that slowly tightens,
      A thin alibi concocted for all of the frightened.

      The injuries inflicted in this human dirt War,
      Each step of co-operation, more bodies on the floor
      In this structure of long lost authority,
      A faded fundamental mode of the majority.

      Again the union jack is draped over the wood,
      The governments quoted,`This soldier did good`
      Yet War rages on, no submission and no light,
      As another innocent is lined up in a gunsight.

      (c) Steven Michael Pape.2010

    15. Through Worlds Apart.

      Through worlds apart condemmed at heart,
      All the bitter words confused, left in the dark
      This journey we all take, So much at stake,
      The immortal decisions, forced to partake.

      The essences in themselves seem to sing,
      Like the dawn birds at the start of spring.
      From the highest corners, the dark recess,
      The imagination moves at the slightess caress.

      Yet we continue, we don`t view all the faces,
      The shadows behind us kept in their places
      The red dimmed glow lights all of our ways,
      From daylight to dusk, the concrete dismays.

      A vanished illusion in sublime dreams,
      Concocted visions we have always seen
      Straining to see through darkness or light,
      Shuddering embraces of the lovers at night.

      The broken earth of these primal days,
      Pupils dilated in the fire of the gaze
      Melancholy fashion, dazzling in passion,
      Motionless existence we all try to fathom.

      (c) Steven Michael Pape.2010

    16. Yes please add me as a member.

      http://cassiopeiarises.blogspot.com

      beloved49@gmail.com

      I will send you a poem.

    17. I am not sure if this is were I post my poem.

      A Shift In Time…….

      Each Thursday she came to the graveyard. The massive gates stood ajar.
      last nights rain had brought down all the leaves.
      putting aside her buttercups that he loved so much
      she busied herself with cleaning broken twigs and leaves.
      from time to time she would stop and softly touch the
      letters she loved so much and whisper his name once or twice.
      soft tears would well in her eyes when she thought of all the
      time that had passed and how solid was the ground that separated them.

      Funny how easily the hurt and longing was still so fresh.
      suddenly the gloomy day broke and she was surround in a rainbow
      of lovely colors. She had to squint to see what she was doing
      so bright and alive were the colors. Her buttercups forgotten,
      all she could see was a dim figure haloed in swirling beauty.
      then a pale thin hand reached out for hers. A soft voice, his voice
      called out her name. Emily oh Emily my love, come my love come we have but a flicker of time.
      As she stood before him and saw the shift in time. He whispered do not be afraid. She slipped into his waiting arms, buttercups forgotten.
      Come lie down beside me that we might share eternity as one.
      Side by side they lay together. His soft words filled her mind.
      Do not be afraid my dear for this was meant to be. The shift closed and they were gone.

      • Tim Keeton says:

        Very nice. Buttercups. It always has to be buttercups.

        I have added you to our blogroll and you now have Contributor rights and are welcome to use the Member badge. Velcome!

        Rhyme on!

    18. Kavita says:

      Alright ! I have been wanting to join the Undead Poets Society ever since I came by it…
      I found the idea absolutely COOL and outstanding! A super decision by the founders!!!

      Add to Blogroll – check
      Follow @UndeadPoets on Twitter – check
      Write a poem and post it here – check
      Add link to website – check(ing) 🙂

      So… here is my poem. I am pasting it in this comment as well.. 🙂
      It might be tad too dark …but hey, it is for UDPS !!! 🙂 And I would really love to be a part of this…
      ————————————
      Undeath calling…

      In this situation dire
      I needed some fire
      This pent up desire
      I craved for satire

      My moves slackened
      And senses darkened
      My thoughts blackened
      As all hells beckoned

      My heart was slit
      And adorned with spit
      I lost all grit
      In this bottomless pit

      I then rose from my bed
      Voices cried in my head
      I wailed as I fled
      Hoping I’d be undead…
      ————————————
      I hope I “qualify” 🙂
      Thanks a bunch… And cheers to all!!

      • Tim Keeton says:

        Oh yeah, you qualify

        You have been added to our blogroll, now have Contributor rights and are welcome to use the Member badge. Velcome!

        “I found the idea absolutely COOL and outstanding! A super decision by the founders!!!”

        Thanks! Glad you think so. 😉

        Rhyme on!

    19. ziibi1 says:

      I have almost followed all the steps. I have this one the last to finish. I would love to be part of the Undead Poet Society.
      My link is http://adventuresinpoesy.wordpress.com/wp-admin/
      I share the blog with a friend. I go by ziibi/ziibi1~ English River. Here is my poem:

      The full Moon rises to the East

      She dances under the Birch
      To the music of her soul
      Bare feet against wet Earth
      Freer then she has ever known

      She dances a healing dance
      To cleanse the invisible wounds
      Buried through generations
      Deep within the soul

      She dances for all women
      Young, weak, strong and old
      Women across waters and land
      Throughout all of time

      She dances secret knowledge
      Beats of movement and song
      Mothers have taught to Daughters
      Since the days of Avalon

      She dances under the full Moon
      Encircled by the magic
      As they have for Centuries
      And will forever more

      River 7/10

    20. ziibi1 says:

      Thank you~ I’m happy to call myself a member of the Undead Poet Society. 🙂

      • Tim Keeton says:

        She dances secret knowledge
        Beats of movement and song
        Mothers have taught to Daughters
        Since the days of Avalon

        Very nice, River! Very Celtic. Very Undead.

        I have added you to our blogroll and you now have Contributor rights and are welcome to use the Member badge. Velcome!

        Rhyme on!

        • ziibi1 says:

          Thank you Tim. You are the first to acknowledge that their is Celtic influence running through it. I am wondering if I post my own poems or you do. It surprised me I had access to post or what seems like it. I apologize I’ve been way busy today to dive to deep into the blog.
          I do have a tragic love poem that deals with recurring tragedy and torment that I finished not long ago. No happy ending. 🙂

        • Tim Keeton says:

          You are free to add posts yourself. You have “Contributor” rights. That way they are posted by you, as you – versus by me, for you.

          How could I not notice the Celtic strain weaving its magickal way through your work?

          Rhyme on!

        • ziibi1 says:

          LOL! I have to laugh! I had not been on Twitter for along time. When I saw the old name I used before I changed it not thinking you would stick it on here. If someone clicks on it the page does not exist. Here is the new link: Tweets mentioning @ziibi_river
          🙂

        • Tim Keeton says:

          Duly noted and corrected on Twitter.

    21. Aight, I have completed all the steps except this one! It would be a privilege and an honor to be part of this organization!

      VACANCY

      disturbance upstairs
      heretics and harlequins
      dance and drink all night
      laughing and loving
      screams that are unbecoming
      they rattle the floors
      those loud copulating clowns
      banging on the walls
      zealots of nhillism
      chug bottles of absurd
      puke philosophy
      drenching the upholstery
      chuckles through keyholes
      enough is enough
      eviction notice this month
      time to leave my mind

    22. Pingback: Tweets that mention Join Us | Undead Poets Society -- Topsy.com

    23. Tom Woodside says:

      I would like to converse w/ the “Undead Poets Society” provided is a poem of mine as well another site where more of my poems can be read. Thank you!

      Becoming of Ignorance

      Tiring of Its mortal host,
      blood will curdle, heart will roast.
      Shedding from Its weaker being,
      this birth halts tempted breathing.
      Branching from decaying skin,
      wings of fire and veins of sin.
      No more disguising condemned eyes,
      rise until Your horns pierce skies.
      Bringing forth the cosmic dawn,
      blotting out the light of morn.
      All that is shall hastily wither,
      as It commands, colds be bitter.
      Cast your will across the seas,
      so all the depths yield to freeze.
      Mankind quiet your emphatic plead,
      for soon, no longer will you bleed.

      Copyright © Tom Woodside, 2008

      Poems by Tom Woodside

      • Tim Keeton says:

        Velcome, fellow Kentuckian! I have added you to our blogroll, and you now have Contributor rights and are welcome to use the Member badge (above).

        Rhyme on!

    24. link: http://philosopherpoet.wordpress.com/2010/07/19/the-nighttime-singer/

      I’ve added you to my facebook page, unfortunately I don’t have the time to follow tweets. I have, however, added you to my blogroll aswell! Please let me know if you need any other requirements out of me 😉

      title: the nighttime singer

      one pill
      nothing.
      except for the ether
      fragrance rising and falling
      between the pages of absence
      caught in the blankets.
      his head lies, his eyes
      continue to swim in
      the gyre of midnight.

      two pills
      flicker.
      the curves of the ‘s’
      fall off his tongue and
      leave a spiral on the ceramic.
      the morning will slobber
      its honeyed tongue, and the
      toast will jump
      up and panic.

      three pills
      somber.
      those voices sucked up their
      cold hands. the shadows
      buried the cuffs. because
      the evening wears clothes,
      clocks tick time, and tender
      ghosts morph into my bones

      tonight.
      i hear the soft sounds of the
      Nighttime Singer unfurling
      the notes of slow chamber music
      deep into my veins. my glued-focus
      watches the slow dance of velvet
      darkness hold me. She unties my
      consciousness – still hanging on
      with a white hand – and tells me
      to rest, and let the liquid night
      wash me and slowly evanesce.

      • Tim Keeton says:

        Sounds great. Velcome!

        I have added you to our blogroll and given you Contributor rights to UDPS. You are also allowed to use the Official Member Badge on your site, etc.

        Rhyme on!

    25. Greetings, my first time here^^ I wish to join this society of poets 😀

      I have follow this blog and added to my blogroll, a poem is coming right up in a few hours time 🙂 I will post the link up when i am done with it =)~

      • Tim Keeton says:

        Certainly. Velcome!

        I have added you to our blogroll, and given you Contributor rights to UDPS, so you can post as yourself (rather than as a comment). Once you post your poem, you will also be entitled to use the UDPS Official Member badge on your site, etc.

        Rhyme on!

        • Thank you so much, but one more question XD, do the poem have to follow a certain dark and undead feel, because i read through the poems that were written here, they are much more related to those side, so i was wondering if there is like a certain feel that i have to achieve in my poem =O?

        • Tim Keeton says:

          Not at all. (From the About page)

          Undead Poets come in all shapes, sizes, sexes, and genres; whether you danse macabre, have fangs, are zombie-like, or are just a living poet (and therefore “undead”), if you share these things in common with us, you are welcome:

        • We love poetry – its meter, its rhyme (or lack thereof), and how it joyously trips lightly out of our thoughts, through our pencil/pen/keyboard/quill and onto the page;
        • We write all kinds of poetry, for many different genres (not just the “macabre”) and many different age groups – from poems for children/MG/YA, to poems for any age; and
        • we are “undead” i.e. we are (most of us anyway) rather alive.