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Violence Halloween Poems | Violence Poems About Halloween

These Violence Halloween poems are examples of Violence poems about Halloween. These are the best examples of Violence Halloween poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Rhyme | |

The Undyings' Curse

Deep in the earth, a crypt of rock
slumber guarded by casket locked
Lips grope silence ‘ever more
 rasping thought, remembers whispered lore
Outstretched palms the roots do clench
tranquility stilled by festered stench
And eyes, sleep caked, are propped ajar
ignites no life, but collapsed star

Burned blades sigh, Winds’ dying gasp
bones brittle snap within her clasp
A lonesome howl the moon does draw
vigil broken, it twists its maw 
Upon an arena of endless stone
the granite gates they’ve passed alone
And entered a world of burning eyes
eluded the judge of smoldering cries

A faultless gait, no stumbled draw
a reaping brought  by scythe and claw
Opal edge which shrouds a cause
aberrant blade shapes nature’s laws
Dictate a script, the stars can share
an open secret, a language bare
Steps continue, feet are drawn
across gray grass, undying pawn

Copyright © Avery Swarthout

Details | Verse | |


For Alicia Ann Lynch

“I don’t wanna die
 I’d rather dance my life away”
    ~ Prince, “1999” from the album 1999 (1982)

What purpose the celebration of this ritual
Wearing the fears that we face
The better to demonstrate our winning over them
Or the better reason for a party

What purpose the crafting of this message
Depicting the face of the terrorized
The better to make known the fears we must face
Or the better sense of crudeness

What purpose the shooting of this messenger
Firing not being good enough
The better to admit fears too big to face
Or better stick with denial

What purpose the floating of this apology
Passing judgment on a powerful symbol
The better to speed the mob on its witch hunt
Or better be sorry to lose the race
    ~ Thanks Always Returns

Copyright © Thanks Returns

Details | Free verse | |


Does it not shimmer to the shine, the steel blade
Of dead reckonings ultimate design, cold is
Its fine edged point, a slicing masterpiece,
Of revolutionary engineering, behold deaths
Chopping silver anvil, the guillotine!
Polished by rags dipped crimson blood,
Washed by virgin waters of the fallen innocent,
From the martyr to the beggar thief,
It mattered not, to this abomination of
Humanities creation.
It wished nothing more except to be fed,
The head stones of the living, reveling in their
Screams of pain, and savoring the victims liquid
River of bodily fluids of terrors anguish.
A flashing chopping block, held and fastened,
By two wooden beams, apparatuses executioner,
Welding a suspended sword of destiny, at a
Ropes pivot center of weights mass,
Of crime or injustice!
The hooded condemned kneel underneath this,
Metal toothed demonic demon, praying
Their deaths to be swift, begging God
For salvation's intervention, but the beast
Awaits hungrily, demanding his tributes prize,
A bloody sacrifice of flesh and bone!
It almost seems to be a living entity,
Waiting, anticipating the carnage that is
To come, as the celebrating crowds gather.
Death’s grim reaper, kicks over the bags
Of weighted sand, just then the biting
Giant hammer clamps down, the final cut is done,
And the head basket of doom, is full at last!
The kindred brethren of the now deceased,
Yell hurray at this gruesome grandiose display,
Of carnages dismemberment and bloody
Theatrics, applauding for more!
Does it not shimmer to the shine, the steel blade
Of dead reckonings ultimate design, cold is
Its fine edged point, a slicing masterpiece,
Of revolutionary engineering, behold deaths
Chopping silver anvil, the guillotine!


Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | Free verse | |


A phantom beauty sheathed within a gown of utter darkness,
Stalks the lonely avenues of Los Angeles, seeking in vengeances
Revenge for her murder to bring him unto justice’s final damnation!
On the corner of thirty-Ninth Street she pauses, in reverence for
The mangled corpus sliced in half, and posed in displays erotic
Subjective stance for the gawking voyeurs to view, in pleasures
Oh sweet mistress of the tragic, weeping with the bloodless tears
Of deaths draining futility, again she begins the walk of the tormented
Beast, the black Dahlia of mysteries suspense, trailing in the dark,
Within her silken shroud of her burial gown, crying outwardly
 For mercy’s salvation, yet it is only the dead silence of the
Wintery breeze that answers in the stillness!
The burnt amber leaves of autumn, are crushed beneath the
Heavy feet, of a she ghost screaming within the nights empty
Hallows, beckoning unto the lord above, to return her life
Essence that was stolen by a slayers sharpened blade of 
Degradation and mutilation, why the howling banshee
Yells, why what was my crime, to be tormented so!
The newspapers deadlines read, the Black Dahlia, was
Chopped, hacked in half in the middle, scrubbed by her
Assassin killer, whom slashed her chicks into a jokers
Grimly smile!
But this ebony dame, with the eyes of graying death,
Strides within the ethereal limbo between heaven and
Hell, begging for the after life’s illumination to set her
Free, from the netting of betrayals unjustified torment!
A figure of distinction, heckles in the black abyss beyond,
This fine gentleman birthed within the household of the
Elect, tact’s another trophies photo upon his wall of
Glories victims, she the women known as Elizabeth Short,
The black Dahlia!
Within this doctors black leather bag, lies secrets never spoken
Of in the light of day, clean are his instruments shimmery to the shine,
These slashers sharpened slicers cutting without mercy’s discrimination
Of depths degree, to please this serial killing physician of death!
Within the house holds of the elect and wealthy, a gentleman
Chameleon hides, protected by the birth rights of the cultured
Upper class, no one suspects this learned man of any wrongs doing,
The perfect cover, to stand right out in the open acquiescing others,
Of the bloody deeds his done!
Within the vaults of deception, on the high hills of rich and famous,
A demonic doctor of death, waits in the shadows for an unsuspecting
Victim to stride within his butchering claws of death, and the black
Dahlia searches for him, seething with vengeances fury!


Copyright © cherl dunn