So I sat down and tried to write a bit of poetry tonight.  After what seemed forever, I finished and thought it was pretty decent, I mean it was not Poe but good for my first time.  So I showed it to my wife and after she read it and quit laughing, 20 minutes later, I decided to scrap it and start over.  I did like any humiliated person would do and turned to the internet and found a Goth-O-Matic Poetry generator.  I figured hell it could not be any worse that what I just wrote. So here it is. 

Dark Love 

 It is a night of sorrow, a song of ethereal pain,
wolves vent their loneliness. The beautiful one
rises.

Mist shrouds her pale form,
an everlasting wanting.

Her ebon hair cascades over
pale and delicate shoulders, and her
full crimson lips part slightly, to taste the
life streaming from the
pale flesh beneath her.

Now a night of ecstasy,
I thirst.

 Lesson learned is that just because others can write good poetry does not mean you can.