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Best Fear Poems

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Details | Fear Poem | |

AM I

AM  I ?

Am I Just Standing Here, or Am I Just Dead?
Am I So Full Of Fear, I Lost Myself Instead?

Am I A Nobody, that you can't defend me?
OR
Am I Just Invisible, and you really don't pretend.

Am I Blind, Or I Just Don't Wish To See?
The Love I Cannot Find Is Right In Front Of Me!

Am I Hearing the Truth,
Or Have I Just Been Deceived?
Who Can I Trust?
Who Can I Believe?

Am I So Mad I Just Can't Understand,
Or Am I So Sad I Need A Shoulder And A friend?

Is It Just Me, 
Or Am I All Alone?

***

I wrote this poem 22 years ago
I was pregnant, scared and alone:-( 

Details | Fear Poem | |

Teddy Bear-

My sweet little Teddy Bear...
Mommy gave 'YOU' to me.
Now I never sleep alone at night.
The comfort you gave, when God's sunny eyes ran out of light.

You are my sweet little teddy bear... 
You kept me company throughout the years.
I hugged you, when my eyes were full of tears.
Loving you, squeezing you. 
We both express many joyful dance of cheers.
Together we sang lullabies, without you singing one single word.
We drank from the same teacup, whispered about the pretty birds.
Now listen, as I mumble extra words into your ear.
My sweet Teddy Bear, you are always here.

We snuggled every night staring at the star frame window.
"You held my hand every-time I was lost in my own imaginary limbo.

My sweet little Teddy Bear...
I'm 11 now, and my mother loves me dearly.
Sadly she felt it's time to find me a daddy.
Little does she knows, my daddy visits every night in my dreams.

Shhhhhh!!!
Now her boyfriend visits my room and tells me not to scream.
Little Teddy bear, I never showed you fear before I fell asleep.
Little Teddy bear, tonight I do not want to count sheep. 
Teddy bear, now I hold you closer, and tighter than before.
Little Teddy Bear let me cover your ears, from the screeching door.
Little Teddy Bear, he said he will hurt mommy If I tell anyone.
Little Teddy Bear, I know you see and hear everything!!!

by; pd
You're A Little Kid Again (contest)
The View of an 11 year old

Details | Fear Poem | |

Fear Not The Wind

Fear not the fierce wind, o gentle heart
Though it may rattle the eaves
And give no ear to its whispers with nothing to impart
But shallow promises that hang, like dried, parched leaves

Listen to its mournful wails on the way to some distant shore
Leaving in its trail, the harsh rawness of a chill
And envy not; give pity instead and be sure to keep no scores
For the warmth of a gentle heart is by far, richer still

For who can fathom the baleful howls invading valleys below;
Billowing across the fragile earth and her boundless seas?
Is it in anguish that it protests; who can really know?
Or is it a mere expression of a mighty power that seethes?

Yet, judge not, o gentle heart, but like a blade of grass amidst a storm
Lay calmly into the wind; rely not upon your strength to stay strong
~*~


Details | Fear Poem | |

Hermaphrodite - Part III


?Just a stutter-step, and I over-think it?

I ask you how are we breathing underwater?
The question is the shadow of a nightmare
appearing as an Octopus -
its tentacles wrap around us,
dragging us towards the edge of an abyss.

I tear open my rib-cage,
I am fever, high-temperature fever,
licking the Octopus with the tongues of my heat.
It lets go, retreats into a crevice.
You are swallowing water with the fear in your eyes.
I shouldn't have asked that specific question -
brought it into existence.

I kiss you, push breath into your lungs.

Upon seeing figure-eights wash away your doubt,
I am now suddenly breathless.
You give me back breath to breathe,
offering us strength to breach the surface.

The Ocean is Sky; Sky is the Ocean,
Night is Day; Day is Night.
?Is this flying, or walking upside-down. Sideways?

"Look down there, can you see the Evergreen tree?" I ask.

You say nothing. Just breathe. The fear is gone from your eyes.

I close my eyes, open my eyes, 
close my eyes, open my eyes.
There is no difference, a shutter-frame of eternal passages.
We have done this before                             somehow,
flown through the doors of deja vu.

"The tree doesn't need to be sacrificed into paper.
But, if cut down, at least spread its seeds."

Why did I say that? It felt so natural.

Waves. Surging, vibrating waves.
Now, it is flesh for feeling,
breath on breath,
an elevation of sheer simplicity within sweat.
I can barely contain myself,
but when I do, again, my belly becomes an earthquake,
unleashing seismic waves
from the centre of my core....

Hermaphrodite
_____________________


Even though you already appear to be sleeping,
I feel you awake inside,
but so calm                       peaceful.

We breathe, exhale, inhale,
your body gently pushes against my chest and belly....

....before I fall asleep,
I spy the Cardinal hopping along the branch of an Evergreen tree




.

Details | Fear Poem | |

DARKNESS of the LIGHT

*   DARKNESS of the LIGHT   *

Those that fear the dark,
Have never seen what the light can do.
In this grave I will leave no mark.
Knowing the tunnel light, is the way God scr3ws with you.
I have no soul to sell, 
Someone jacked my free ticket to hell.
I lived all my life on the verge of a broken dream.
My will locked behind this iron cell.
Only he can hear me scream!
My own prisoner in this bottle shell.
To fear the dark is the devil's scheme.
Watch me as I remove my own shackles from my limbs.
Towards the light I will never redeem.
A full flavor laugh, 
For he that fears the darkness, and walks the light alone.

.                ~SKAT~

Details | Fear Poem | |

Didn't Don't

.

Didn't Don't
Somebody keeps pulling on the rope to swing the bells
   didn't don't       
            didn't don't
Don't touch it. Don't say it. Don't do it. Don't doubt it. Don't think.

Somebody handcuffs my steps. Somebody determines my boundaries.
Before I fully understand free will, there is a slap on my head
      and phosphenes like stars that command my orbit.
Before I can recognize differences, there is a slap on my hand
      right hand, not left hand...never ambidextrous; 
      and time out is isolation without a trial...and I learn
                               the fear of wrongdoing
                               remote-controlling my existence,
conditional on demand, predesigned
      and easily
      and obviously
      frightened
An aborted freedom escaping into the sewer
trying not to get it on the seat

I'm the observer of other lives, not mine               
tied up and chained, in captivity 
attempting to prove an alibi 
                    for being alive.
No one cares
not even myself

Somebody pulls on the rope to swing the bells
   didn't don't       
           didn't don't
It's dirty. It's ugly. It's bad. It's poo. It's sin.

commitments, commandments... Commandments, Commitments
                               Salvation... Damnation
Sometimes deception makes them ring in a low tone. Sometimes
I do what they say, and not what they do, and not what I want, and not what I think.

                 Through   fragments   of   this   duplicity,
                                               and   this   duplicity, 
I would be able to rebuild myself,
                                and Myself, into another hypocritical being;
and the intentional perversion of the self proclaimed truth,
                                or the liar paradox,
                                will be sovereign
leading to the use of tricks and cotton swabs.

When the remorseless hours run counterclockwise,
I would be happy through imaginary experiences,
consistently depurated,
consistently believed to be true.
             
Would I dare to examine the society in which I've been educated and raised?
Would I dare rip my skin...my flesh off of my bones?
How could I blame them? How could I possibly judge them?
Order and obedience in confabulation...in conspiracy...in complicity

If somebody keeps pulling on the rope to swing the bells
If I'm the only one guarding my own cell
If I'm the jailer, and the convict, and the crime.


.



Details | Fear Poem | |

Goodbye, My Child

Where cradled canyons sing
Of ebony wood in the forest
There lies a gurgling spring
Where cockcrows sing their chorus
To the melody of singsong birds
There I’ve concealed my sensuous words
Filled with befitted signs
The saccharine whiff of my designs

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Where the fogs of night are fountains
Spills of glistened moon ignite
By distant silhouette mountains
We dance with passion of fight
Entwining ancient stance 
Mingling hand in hand we dance
Till the mountains smile on high
Near and far we spring
To pursue the realest of dreams
While the world cries at its seams
Anxious in trouble to cling

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

To where the ridges merry make 
From the beaks of wooden bright
In sparkly pools the ghouls awake
That scarce to stir our night
We watch for seekers down under
Muttering secrets in their soul
We bid them lucks of shivers
Dipping gently in
From reeds that hide a tear of a foal
Under the gentle rivers

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Far away she shall ever churn
The taciturn eyed
She’ll listen no more to turn
To the working mills beside
Or the scrubbing of the barn
May peace weave in her song
She shall wave in the yarn
To a haven known as Belong  

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

For she comes, the mortal youth
To the wild realm of her truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only her tears be found


Details | Fear Poem | |

Mirror Mirror

Your reflection is a liar
It makes no confessions 
The image reaches within
Cold fingers claw at your mind
A mirrored smile
Taunts you
Haunts you
No words spoken
Yet you hear screaming in your head
You reach out your hands
Palms joined on glass
No warmth transfers as you touch
You stare at the illusionary you
Looking back from his backward land
A place without air
Yet it is you who cannot breath
Together you bang on the glass
Cracks appear
You cut your right hand 
Blood trickles down his left wrist
As he licks it off you taste it on your lips
There it is again
That smile
Perhaps it's a smirk
What does he know
Fear rises from within
You turn to walk away
Hair rises on your neck
The sound of shattered glass
As the pieces of you fall
You were never here
All these people you used to be
Shards of glass upon the floor

Nathan's Mirror Contest

Kind of freaky it matches one of your pictures, I wrote this a while ago.

Details | Fear Poem | |

Lover's Knot

A wistful smile upon her face,
Belies the look I need to trace;
For love needs not cruel rejection,
Instead it longs for sweet perfection.

Reaching out to touch tomorrow,
Leaving all that causes sorrow;
Looking forward with such yearning,
I find joy at your returning.             

Let me taste your scent once more,
Bring back the dream we had before;
Have no fear and fear no scorn.
For buds of love will soon be born.

On your cheek the morning blush,
On your brow a fevered flush;
Like berries sitting in the cream,
You light my soul and fill my dream.
                                                
Let me quench your thirsty lips,
And taste the juice of honeyed drips;
To caress the languid eyes that sleep,
And join with mine that need to weep.

I need reach out to touch a star,
To know for sure just where you are;
For body language is understood,
Giving and forgiving all it should.

When fingers knit a lovers knot,
And find a stitch that they forgot;
Then all things that transpire,
Will feed the flame that lights the fire.

Details | Fear Poem | |

Careful Cursive

I write each letter by hand in careful cursive. 
I want every sentence to be pretty,
to look feminine and delicate -
to soften the ugliness you face everyday.
After each line, I let the ink dry.
You don't deserve smudges.
You don't deserve any of this.

My words are foolish, 
full of meaningless descriptions
of meaningless events. 
But I can't sit here at this polished desk -
in this cozy room in this quiet house 
on this peaceful street
and write what I'm really thinking.
I can't be selfish.

So I keep writing my careful cursive
on my pretty stationary.
I keep sending my meaningless letters
into the ugly world - to wherever you are.
And no matter how many times
I open the mailbox, I'm never prepared 
for that hideous stamp,
that heartless phrase:
"Return to Sender."


Written: 1/27/2013
For Michael's "Boomerang" contest

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