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Best Horror Poems

Below are the all-time best Horror poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of horror poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New Horror Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Horror poems are below this new poems list.

The Horror by Grover, Suraj
Lovecraftian Horror - Tribute to HP Lovecraft by J., Taylor
Road trip ,short horror story by Mae, Miss.
Hollywood Horror by Makama, Funom
The Horror of San Bernardino by Price, Franklin
Human Horror House by Leiser, Laura
horror of heart by Hanson, Steve
OH, THE HORROR by Tidd, Jim
horror: haiku by Geiger, Paul
HOLIDAY HORROR by ALLISON, JAN

View all new Horror Poems

The Best Horror Poems

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To all the heart breakers -a ZOMBIE's valentine

Wouldn't you rather~

Wouldn't you rather be dead?
Maybe shoot yourself in the head?
Over my dead heart, I'd never want to be a zombie like you.
The sight of your limbs are rotten all the time.
All synonyms say of you looks like a 3 legged swine.
Go ahead and do us all a favor, 
hide and stash yourself away from all your neighbor. 
I think I'd rather have my eyes stuck with glue
So I won't have to look at you
When it comes to family friends, you ain't got none.
You're always gonna be called the lonely retarded one.
Who could ever love a face like yours.
not even your mother see's pass your gores 
No need for privacy when you pee
Go ahead and take a leak and drown yourself in the sea.
Don't think for one second you are irresistible 
Love making with a zombie is impossible.

Wouldn't you rather be dead?
maybe shoot yourself in the head

The time to kill yourself is at hand.
Slicing your wrist is what we recommend.  
Cut your tongue off, don't want to hear you squeal.   
Blood all over, your face is no big deal
A sword or machete will only pick up the pace
I wanna see your guts pop out your mid-waist 
Contaminated objects is a must
Anything to remove your face of disgust.
The easy part is the best
Once you are gone we will all feel blessed,
The flaw of your existence  
Is what keeps us all in distance 

Wouldn't you rather be dead?
maybe shoot yourself in the head

Close your eyes and die
No one wants to hear you cry
You said you wanted to be loved
believe me~ you're better off unloved
I say do yourself off
Anyways you've always had it rough...
Go ahead and scream
This is not a dream
Now see how you make me feel
All I want is for you to end your ugly ordeal.
I will praise this day of course
Knowing soon you'll be a rotting corpse.

happy valentine ~ TO: All My DEADBEAT X-es from Texas.


Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2012

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FORBIDDEN

~ZOMBIE NIGHT~ 

WHINING WHISPERS MOVE ACROSS FORBIDDEN LAND
Rugged ruins crumble silent through the night
Echoes of the dead roam the air
Moonlight vanishes to complete despair
Bones slowly desert distorted resting homes
Ascension of the dead -Longing to live again 

Sands of desert flip the hour glass back
WHIMPERING WHISPERS MOVE ACROSS FORBIDDEN LAND
Rugged ruins crumble silent through the night
Echoes of the dead roam the air
Moonlight vanishes to complete despair
Bones slowly desert distorted resting homes 

Taking light from where evil stays 
Feeding away leaving behind a death valley zone
WONDERING WHISPERS MOVE ACROSS FORBIDDEN LAND
Rugged ruins crumble silent through the night
Echoes of the dead roam the air
Moonlight vanishes to complete despair

Dead souls forsake the common land
Shadowing like Equinox light 
Walking corpse covered in rotten barren sand
WINDY WHISPERS MOVE ACROSS FORBIDDEN LAND 
Rugged ruins crumble silent through the night
Echoes of the dead roam the air

Upright, forward broken taboo 
Searching for the perfect breath of fresh air
Sounds of symbols march the ground
Searching to find their missing heartbeat
WHISKING WHISPERS MOVE ACROSS FORBIDDEN LAND
Rugged ruins crumble silent through the night


Ascension of the dead  -Long to live again 
Bones slowly desert distorted resting home
Moonlight vanishing in complete despair
Echoes of the dead roam the air
Rugged ruins crumble silent through the night
WHEN WHISPERS MOVE ACROSS FORBIDDEN LAND

by;PD


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013

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Nightmares and Razor Blades

I stare at my ceiling,
I start to wonder, why am I not healing?
Then it dawns on me,
The nightmare clip starts to roll.
I shake and shiver and wince at every little thing.
I'm scared to death, 
What does this all mean?
I start to cry,
I feel as if I might die.
Then I grab my blade, 
The tears come quicker.
My breath starts to quicken,
My grip on the blade makes my knuckles turn white.
In the mirror is where I see that my ivory skin is now blotchy and red.
I tell myself, "This may be the last time, if you finally cut deep enough."
So I try my best not to make a sound 
As I sit up in bed and hold my wrist out in front of me. 
I count to three,
One, 
I put the blade to my wrist.
Two,
I start to add pressure.
Three,
I yank the blade across my skin,
It pierces and then I start to bleed.
I suddenly want it to stop, 
But there's no going back now. 
I wonder why it came to this,
I know nobody cares about me,
I know nobody is going to forget me.
Quietly I say, "I'm sorry."
But nobody is there,
No one will ever be.
I start to fade out of this world,
My addiction would finally be gone,
And so would I.
I was lost, 
Lost and angry. 
Suddenly, it was gone,
I woke up screaming.
The pain was oh-so real.


Copyright © Mackenzie Lakin | Year Posted 2013

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Devil's messiah

Drug addict hooker - raped violently and left for dead
Lying in a coma unaware of the seed that breeds inside
Months later a boy is born, but mother does not survive 
Unfortunate angel lets infant fall from her fragile grasp
Demons pounce to infiltrate child and slit angel's neck
What a shame he did not die inside his mother's womb
Doomed childhood lies ahead passed from home to home
Abused, raped and humiliated, voices plague demonic mind
As his foster parents molest him - virginal innocence is lost
Manic voices seduce him to murder them with brutal vengeance
No prison sentence - judge rules self defence - hellion is free
Bullied and mocked in school, voices return to haunt him
Hundreds of students die when food is poisoned with arsenic
He walks away with satisfaction - school never found the killer
An appetite to kill hungers inside him as he plots further victims
Randomly killing animals - manipulating and violating children
Thinks he is invincible perverting the streets as a free man
By chance he meets his demonic queen - to share their malady
Within the ecstasy of masochistic desires, he begs for more
He develops an acute messiah complex ready to rule the world
Demonic duo plan a barbaric killing orgy on an Halloween night
The predators ambush innocent children luring them with treats
Throw them into the basement to feast on them one by one
Hands tied and mouths taped no one can hear their cries of horror
Excited by their successful hunt - they engage in perverted gratification
Caught in a moment of passion the queen slips and breaks her neck
In disbelief and utter shock - angered he decides to set the house alight
As the house blazes - a moment of regret sets in and he tries to escape
but the smoke is too strong and overcomes him - he perishes in flames
When the fire brigade arrive they only find two charred bodies
No one checked the basement - the fire had destroyed the infrastructure
A new home was built over the damaged site - its owners unaware
The mystery of the missing children was never solved - nor their crimes
But the new house is always changing occupants - as screams echo in its corridors

The Silent One
21 October 2015






Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015

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I The Mirror - With A Major Contribution By Joseph May - Dramatic Free Verse


an impression of the world
stands before me
Left is right, and right is wrong, 
and the mirror reflects a melancholy song.

i the mirror
not 
the babbling brook,
or
the rippled river
whose images tell harmless lies.

i
the mirror,
who was once held in the 
weak, shivering, hands of a life nearing its end
now lay
on broken, crushed bones, crumbs
and i 
one thousand shards
the cracks
the jaded moments of my life.

i 
an unintended semblance in the raging waters
crashing against the killing rocks of the rushing falls.

never utter the curse
"it can't get any worse"

the serpent swallows the swollen cow,
swallowed - the farmer's wife,
swallowed - her son,
swallowed - the thorny toad,
the black widow spider devours them all!


i the empty frame
the bits and bites of carpenter ants.

my world 
a perverse facade
of
what should of been
of
what 
is
of
what
was

or of
what? WHAT?
less?
i guess.

NEVER utter the curse
"it can't get any worse"

whose voice 
will bring me peace,
whose rapier 
will deliver me,

who will 
burn my body whole
or
dig me a deep hole
or
throw me void of soul

into 

the waters of the screaming ocean 
who herself dies a slow painful death.

Dec 20 2015
armand 
with a major contribution by
Joseph May


Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015

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The Grim Reaper Cometh

As All Hallows’ Eve approacheth my thoughts turneth to darkest dread,
Whilst in old age I harboureth a deep fear of seeing this one’s grim head;
Methinks the Grim Reaper cometh this time with his scythe in hand,
Which striketh maximum fear in me and maketh him feel quite so grand. 

Death and darkness doth pervade this spirit’s intent from that great beyond,
And bringeth one a chilling fear if one’s destiny be unending Hellspawn;
All Hallows’ Eve is the image I conjureth of my imminent departure,
But I hopeth for divine intervention and protection during this departure.

For I shan’t want to feel the fear and malediction of the Grim Reaper’s gaze,
As he eerily walketh in the deep mist to bringeth my soul into that darkest haze;
I prayeth then Oh Lord God, haveth an Angel escort me on my final trip beyond,
And spareth me the Grim Reaper’s terrifying visit and his image of Hellspawn.

I asketh thy divine power and all goodness in protecting my eternal spirit and soul,
And delivereth them to Heaven on All Hallows' Eve most sound and quite whole!

Amen!  Amen!  Amen! 

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved - October 25, 2014
(Shakespearean Sonnet)


Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2014

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For Sale

My Heart
Used
Still beats

My Heart
Low mileage
Over rocky roads

My heart
In vaulted box
Shipping included


No strings attached



Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015

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Blood Red Moon

Blood Red Moon

Deep devouring passions bleed now from this solar eclipse 
As black blood flows from an evil army of “undead” beings 
Whose fangs hideously and cruelly pierce the veins of their 
Mesmerized and unsuspecting victims who are held at bay.

In such silence burdens prowl inside deep sad heartbeats 
As ghastly living shadows creep eerily in and knot the 
Tortured guts of a twisted scared bloodless life falling 
Under the dark macabre gaze of the Blood Red Moon.

At night uncanny black magic spells are intoned in the 
Old Latin scripture as large spider webs cast a gloomy 
Presence and envelope now all those trapped by them as 
The misted breath bleeding hearts howl to Heaven’s roar. 

Standing upon a rugged and lonely mountain crossroad 
There can be no release from the devilish glare of the
Vaunted “Blood Red Moon” whose evil presence pervades
Every breath you take and casts a demonic derisive stare.

My senses are now frozen in place as a deep chill shakes
My soul to the very core of its primordial existence as I 
React to the cutting cold of a dawning maleficent darkness 
Invading every corner and space of my psyche and existence.

The wicked jaws of a rabid beast seek now to bite and rip
All beauty from me and all thoughts I hold close and dear 
As I gasp now for life and painfully feel my tired heartbeat 
Slow as my immortal soul numbs and cries crocodile tears. 

I’m cursed now to walk alone forever as my spilled remains 
Are cut now and my ties of human existence have disappeared 
Putting me on the ground on all fours as I ponder my ultimate
Fate in the hands of a supernatural force beyond any mercy. 
 
As the shadow of Lucifer’s Blood Red Moon passes over my
Tortured face I spy a look at one demonic siren prompting me
Now to follow her as my body is placed on a sacrificial alter
And my life ebbs away as I’m kissed by spirits of the damned!

Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – October 11, 2015 
(Narrative Quatrain)


Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2015

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That Was a Human

Allow me to be disgusted at the jest
and your halfway happy surprise at the end result
of the missile timed precisely:

Did he just splatter?

And allow me to feel the brunt of the bruising
upon my saddened heart, where for others was felt,
from laughing hard.

Yes, all lives matter

Even the ones who don't bear
our national colors
our political expectations    no matter how wrong or right
For just this occasion let us get back to basics:

That was a human

ten fingers and ten toes
perhaps a wife and family to call his own
but do you even know?

            Or even care to think
beyond the face of it?

Getting kicks at watching the Live Leaks
of people being blown to smithereens      It bothers me
That one should find it amusing
Does it bother      You?

---a single tear of blue
is all I'm asking---

Who he was or what he did
what difference does it make?
When life closes the lid
all we have is the acknowledgement:

That was a human      A human

What if those pixels on the screen
were all that was left of that man's memory

would you still find it funny?

And yet still we turn to Facebook Enlightenment
with quotations that decorate a sniper in a holy moment ---

"And oh God. One more thing.
Ignore my enemies heathen prayers
and help me send those bastards
straight to hell.

Amen."

(The amount of "likes" are disheartening
and should be a sin.
Where's the "vomit button" ... ?)

Reading through the comment's section,
like poetry for the juvenile,
and the criminally insane.
No Alka Seltzer      No pills
I'm riding this crazy train unprotected
as if I'm dying for a thrill.

Dying ... at the very least.
Queasy at the vertigo of a nation
acting to love and loving to act

(Nineteen-Eighty-Four called,
they want their plot back)

And have you read empathy such as this?

ROFL, mate! That's classic!

(you have a doggie bag on ya, by chance?
I think I'm gonna be sick)

That was a human

A HUMAN!!!

And you call yourself a Man of God?
Yet still feel compelled
to pull back His Grace to your own ends

... that slippery tide
between your fingers

As if infinity could only be stretched so far;
it won't last long my friend,
before you look into that celestial mirror
scared at what you see

 Is that            me?

Yet still you wear that outpouring of love
on your neck like a trophy
as if you even deserved it.

a single tear of blue     just one
can you give it to me, son?

t h a t w a s a h u m a n

And do you even care?
Does it phase you in the slightest?
Or does a coat of arms
give you further reason to divide?

Jesus died for all      For all

All that upheld the American flag
      as equal to His words.
All who marched to the beat of the drums
      drowning out the birds.
All who bravely proclaimed: We are Heading to War!
                                       We are Heading to War!
And all those who never asked: And what for? What for?

Do you feel its beating on your soul?
S h  o   u    l     d
      I       t        a        l         k
          s           l            o             w?

(the unwritten verses
you added long ago)

It doesn't even matter now,
because all that remains
is what's been left on the page.

All that remains...

Just four sad words
like hopeless sand
slipping through my fingers

That was a human      (or at least it was)
Before Man forgot what he had,
Believing he could do better,
Egging the Almighty to play his game

... back to the drawing board, smirked the Creation

And what about you, Dear Reader?
What will the eulogizer speak
in your honor
when the lights out?

That was a monster
He won't bother you now


Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016

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Bell's on the Wind

Bits and pieces
	bits and pieces
shattered ground writhes with the moon
soft the dirt still
	wet and warm
too soon
	too soon
		too soon

torn nails shred the bell cord
tin the sound in wind wails tinkle, tinkle

the might of death, a spasms rise
no heart beat but a curse
arise, arise, on full moon’s pull
to feed a need
a zombie hull


Bits and pieces
	bits and pieces
shattered ground writhes with the moon
soft the dirt still
	wet and warm
too soon
	too soon
		too soon

no smile, no scream, no blush the rose
arm thrust horror births
skin with bits of cloth
stand now, bone bare in places
long in tooth
to feed
to feed
the Blood Moon’s Curse


Bits and pieces
	bits and pieces
shattered ground writhes with the moon
soft the dirt still
	wet and warm
too soon
	too soon
		too soon
wait not, want not, run and hide
for hunger never ending rises
death but not
pain and hell
cursed they rise
	too soon.


Date: 11/1/13
Poet: Daphne Rising




Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2013

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Halloween's Evil Visage Cometh

Halloween’s Evil Visage Cometh

Halloween’s Evil Visage Cometh now alive in this famous predestined time
Where dubious shadow shades run a riot as the ghastly ghosts of darkness,
Begin calling to all goblins, ghosts, ghouls, and witches in the graveyards;
To come alive—as black cats call out their signals to all lost souls seeking, 
Powerful black magic spells to aid the spirits of ancient alchemists as they
Brew their potions to dull the senses and conjure all the evil spirits on Earth.  

A falling silver-layer mist appears as these uncanny evil spirits invade our
Mortal plane and lost ghosts appear as hungry human skeletons looking for 
Sustenance and seem to be horrified at the stillness broken by a death-cold.
They scream as bloodless fingers touch cold shivers without a warm heart; 
And who knows for sure the sad and mournful song from an ancient grave,
As “The Undead” conjure ravenous demons seeking warm blood to feast on. 

Blended into the dust are the crows whose shadows as a “Dark Phantom,”
Begin to form and take his shape—yet fear not the potent occult light as
That special Halloween Eve super moon beams brilliant and bright making  
Its presence known as your destiny and destination are already decided as
The Ancient Alchemist beckons all of us to drink widely from his mystical
Chalice of Darkness as all malice is reconciled—the birds and beasts speak.
 
Life as we know it is offered upon the Demonic Alter as the Dark Phantom
Initiates all human sacrifices as a drool-dripping envy of all existence drops; 
And the lustful and vengeance-seeking Vampires scrape along the walls as
Sharp poisonous thorns begin tearing behind their secret inner-vision as the 
Deep-dark and dismally-damp curtains open and eclipse the radiant dawn as
An unpleasant and horrible pain visits and our heartbeats grow faint and stop.

An unending agony screams sonorously as a deafening silence falls over us. 
In this “Land of the Dead,” they make their own laws overwriting all limits,
As a vile, creeping, malevolent mist crawls down into the valley deep below; 
The Devil's Advocate slithers on in a nasty, vicious way under your own skin,
As shivering timbers of truth of a living being watches outside our bodies on 
This Halloween Eve as our individual dreams enter the Twilight Zone forever! 

The Devil’s clever wizards and witches concoct an ancient poisonous mixture,
As the boiling cauldron of demonically-enhanced soup is stewed with care and 
Fresh toads, spiders, worms, beetles, ticks, and tiny black snakes are added in.
This unholy and potent poisoned soup from centuries past is now blessed by
The Dark One—to take life from the living and give nourishment to the dead,
As the veil between The Living and The Dead disappears on Halloween Eve!   

Gary Bateman, Anne-Lise Andresen, and Liam McDaid
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
(October 1, 2015) (Free Verse)


Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2015

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FINALLY

Finally 

Doctor, it's been 7 months 
The MEDs aren't kicking in

My dreams are getting stronger, 
The blood remains to run code red
It's getting harder and harder to get out of bed 
Dark images keep taking place inside my head 
The voices - The voices, are not all right!

I no longer lay laughing 
The screaming never stops
In irons,  my mind rattles 
Theses thoughts are all I got
In slow motion, my mind plans the perfect plot

Finally, I realize the sanity of this is perfect
Counting every single second on the clock 
At first, I could not breathe 
I felt, I was left alone, 
Broken down --- Incomplete  
In your eyes, the schizophrenia spoke loud
In my eyes, everything is dark and gray

Doctor, now listen closely, open your eyes
While the walls slowly close in on you
I have my hands around your neck
Finally, I feel my arms, the needles are gone

Finally, I realize the sanity of this is perfect
The tightening of the chest is clearing
Today I possess a little more than yesterday 
Knowing exactly what needs to be done.

DOC YOU AREN'T LISTENING!
Was it all for nothing, the bloody wrist?
The faucet constantly dripping every night
The voices I call my friends

Deep, deep down,  
I'm still a child, painting  bedroom walls
Setting fires after my mother's death 
A crazy peril in its most threatening state

Doc, here you are again,
No longer will I allow you to waste my time
With your fetish lies, trying to make me better 
The problem is not me, it was always you!
Painting pink butterflies and white skies

Finally, I realize the sanity of this is perfect
Don't you understand  she's dead!
Pills aren't going to bring her back 
Padded rooms aren't going to help me,
Help myself --- grieve  the proper  way!
Straitjackets aren't going to restrain me, 
--- from wanting to hurt badly!
Psychologically, I'm perfectly sane 
Expressing my emotions a different way.

Doctor, you're not saying nothing 
You're not moving, 
You're just sitting there pretending to care.
Doc, I hope you aren't mad?
The voices explained it had to end this way
How else could I make you listen?

Finally, the impulse is gone 
Finally, I'm going to be alright 

       by: Pd


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015

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A Girl From Darfur

I can show you where the brimstone sun has no remorse,
and where devils on horseback, have burned our homes, have pillaged our farms.
A killing spree,   the drum of guns, some tried to flee, but died,... each one.
The screams, I dream! Oh, the cries........the cries....... 
I try to mute the sound of them
For...,  I was there, I hid in fear,  was somehow spared, but now I look for 
something, ...something, ...something, here, ...someone to care.
A bit of food, a bit of shade, such bitter taste is in my mouth
A world of hate. To have no shoes,...a walking ghost.....
a blistered soul, I have no hope....  but nothing, nothing left. 
My eyes are blurred, and fires burn, a heavy world, shouts out despair.

Where are the flowers that used to bloom, where are voices, that once I knew?
There are no flowers here...just flies, in waist-deep dust, and a hot orange sun,
that coughs up sounds of fear and guns, and swords and words against my ears, I 
live in fear with no one here. 
I'm just a girl,  or at least I was....    for just a while.

I was defiled, when found by one
He spared my life, but did not see, I'd rather die than be this girl, who feels the 
shame in being free.
I once had a mother, I once had a father, I once had a brother who made me smile
Where did spirits, lift and go, when the devils on horseback came to kill? Spilling 
blood as if for fun?  For thrill? For what? 
Where were the Gods? Where are the ones who turn their heads?
In desert's dust with blood red crust.  They poisoned our wells, burned out our land, 
ravished and raped, and relished their brand......, 
nomads came, leaving shame, evil and horror came like rain.
 
Janjaweed, the name, I cannot say... I live with shame, a world, insane
I try to sleep, but I cannot........I can't forget and I am lost, the cost too much,
a swollen tongue and calloused feet,  across a land of bleached white bones
Alone, alone,....lost and done...a vanished heart......no one sees me  
There are no flowers, there are no trees, 
Famine as my lone companion, a pool of mud a home to stay,
Life drains out more every day, my belly swells....my eyes are parched,
and I can't tell
if I'm alive, or if I'm dead, dried up tears are what I shed....
Where are the flowers for my head? I've been scorned, 
all I have, and all I see is wind and rain, sorrow and pain
thorns, and dust, and a grave, that waits for me



__________________________________________________
 8/28/2014
Devils on Horseback – The Darfur genocide (ongoing) The Janjaweed (translated, 
devils on horseback) slaughter and rape the women, men and children of Darfur. As 
of today, 480,000 people have been “exterminated” and 2.8 million displaced.

Let's not turn our heads away from this, or from other atrocities being committed 
throughout the world.


Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2014

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Halloween Ninette

Beast of dark burns eyes shut quiver, cold touch. Maker of nightmares disturbing death shallow breath blood mark Feast. October 9, 2015


Copyright © Casarah Nance | Year Posted 2015

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The Bell House Tower

We seen a dim light upon top of the Bell House Tower
a dark shadow slipped by it in the midnight hour.

What was that? I asked my friend, I don't know
she said, but it sounded as if something has met
it's end.

The wind was blowing with such a strange howling
and all the city lights were off making it dark for
mysterious prowling.

A loud, maddening laughter rang through the air and
stood on our arms, every one of our hairs. We ran like
crazy down the alley way and never looked back until
the light of day.

The next morning a crowd had gathered at the Bell House
Tower and every one was shocked to see it was the bell
ringer who rung the bell, hour upon hour.

Not a sign made anyone sure of what happened, but we know
what we heard in the midnight hour, mad laughter from upon
top the Bell House Tower.


Copyright © Sharon Gulley | Year Posted 2014

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Hide and Shriek

Ten-year Randi Clay
Just moved into town -
The town of Fear Street,
Where horror pulls you down.

Enormous, gigantic calendars
She sees, hung on her street,
On October 10th is marked
In Red  - ‘The Birth of Pete.’

She makes new friends at school,
And of course - Enemies too,
Who seemed to keep on saying,
‘Beware – He’ll get you! ’

Whenever asked “Who’s Pete?”
The children turned too pale,
But at last, quite surprisingly,
They began to tell the tale:-

 
"There was a boy called Pete,
A normal 12 – year old,
Until one day he fell so ill,
And caught a horrid cold.

Alas! One day he died,
And was buried in his grave,
They thought it was the end of Pete,
Grumpy, dull, but brave.

But right from that very year,
Pete gets up on the tenth,
And enters into other kids,
For using up their strength.

It is now an annual tradition,
Of playing Hide and Shriek,
Whoever Pete makes ‘IT’,
Is the new one from that week.

Randi, the risk for you is
Too real - Heaven forbid.
You’re new to Town Fear Street-
AND PETE DOES LIKE A NEW KID."


Note: This story is based on the idea from an R.L Stine book!

Story Poem


Copyright © Sneha RV The Literature Lover | Year Posted 2014

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Medusa's Love

Medusa’s Love

Medusa is a hideous and vile creature of Grecian yore. 
Medusa, once a high priestess in the Temple of Athena,
Suffered Athena’s unforgiving wrath for violating her 
Sacred temple as she and Lord Poseidon made love there.

Medusa’s Love entices all of her naive human victims,
Up to that special mesmerizing moment of her icy shock,
As they end up unwittingly gazing into her evil, hellish  
Eyes and their bodies harden and turn to stone forever. 

You can never trust those Gods who relish in making
The plight of mortal man more challenging on Earth.
Once a perfect paragon of radiant female pulchritude,
Athena transformed Medusa into this mythic monster.  

As if this life isn’t frightening enough, with the advent 
Of Halloween Eve and the cold, dark nights preceding it;
Medusa’s restless spirit as this grotesque Gorgon can be
Conjured from her lair at the entrance to the Underworld.

From the hissing and viperous serpents adorning her head,
To the ever-present shaking death rattle of her reptilian tail;
Medusa’s sneering and unholy visage paralyzes her victims
As her fiery and demonic eyes bring them a stone cold death!

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
(October 1, 2015) (Unrhymed Quatrain)


Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2015

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Smiling Spitting Deadly Sins

Smiling Spitting Deadly Sins

Son of the Devil evil and twisted when his mask falls away
Through the curtains of death he turns truth into dark lies
With horrible shadows haunting over Love's light so pure
As jealousy reveals shades of a Soul’s envy at this moment

Cunningly you crawl behind colors pride with selfish hurting
Innocence casting stones—the fruits of a hideous lurking evil
Filling you with stupid silly emotions crying crocodile tears
Hate is your playground game as the Dark One takes his souls

Weeping from the deep wounds inflicted on others at your wish
While fighting one lost battle as your words burn from the ugly
Fork of your tongue while spitting venom they become a vile
Poison in which every last drop makes one’s very skin crawl

When I see the light of truth awakening in your Soul’s eyes
I really see a Hell-Fire scorching red hot who is the real you
Your pretty tongue of thy father speaks the evil words of the 
King of Lies to my heart as it is touched by the serpent’s rasp

Yet ever you can never always hide behind this perfidious mask 
And such words of beauty will not always hide what lies within 
The darkest outreaches of your Soul’s descent into damnation
For Love itself is a journey of the gentle divine and the innocent

But those who breathe the Hell-Fire can only fool us all so long
And when their mask falls away they speak with a serpent’s tongue
So vile and gruesome that they know not of Love as they strike and
Bring eternal pain holding the Devil’s sword with their blackened hand

Causing pain with greatest relish as they laugh heartily at the pain
Inflicted on others not really knowing what they hold in their hand
In hate and anger while striking out at all innocent souls as their
Double-edged sword waits for those from the depths of Hell itself

Gary Bateman, Liam McDaid, and Michael Clarke
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
August 9, 2015 (Unrhymed Quatrain)


Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2015

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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 | Year Posted 2015

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Nevermore

I write of a man named Edgar Allan Poe,
Whose dark, tortured soul could not rest,
His work is something every poet should know,
These stories are among some of the best.

"The Raven" was never more ghastly and grim,
"The Pit And The Pendulum" which tortured him,
"The Valley Of Unrest" was such a quiet place,
Where "The Sleeper" dreams in peaceful grace,
"The Murders In The Rue Morgue" were a mystery,
"The Fall Of The House Of Usher" had a gloomy history,
"The Black Cat" was dead, but suffered no pain,
"The Tell-Tale Heart" is what drove him insane,
"The Masque Of The Red Death" did conceal,
While "The Purloined Letter" did reveal,
"The Premature Burial" meant for the dead,
"Annabel Lee" was the corpse bride he wed,
"Spirits Of The Dead" found themselves alone,
"The Conqueror Worm" that fed on human bone,
"The Haunted Palace" was wandered by ghosts,
"Tamerlane" written for one he loved the most.

As the poetry flowed from his heart,
One tragic day, death came to his door,
Finally his tortured soul could depart,
He would then pick up his pen, nevermore.


Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2013

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Striking Deeply a Painful Reminder

Striking Deeply a Painful Reminder 

Striking deeply a painful reminder comes of you now.
Salt falls inside my open wound bringing untold pain.
My soul has one choice to make amidst all this pain,
Telling me the considered direction I must take now. 

Washed through a dirty ocean lining all foamed up,
We are frustrated with ourselves to no end today,
As we stand at the crossroads of our broken lives 
Asking sad, difficult questions and feeling all alone. 

Begging the wrong side for forgiveness is no fun as
We answer while looking upon two sides of a story; 
And a wounding confession of lights promises only
A flash darkness blinding out of a tragic haunted mist. 

Warm dawning radiant colors say love to us both now,
As they elicit a soothing and gentle compassion of hope;
Yet real tenderness is nothing but an illusion as deep pain
Lives inside the shadows without any remorse or apology.

Invading poison of a snake bite brings such sweet love, 
As your alter ego robs me of all my dignity and grace. 
I listen now to the stark tonal sounds of the seagulls, 
As they mix their cries over the ocean dark and deep.  

Kissing salted waves filled with the care of true angels, 
I cast now cruelly—bitter stones in the Garden of Eden,
While touching an apple once bitten never to shy away.
It’s funny how one can see such a tragedy in the daylight.  

Sacrifice a dove dancing within the light now turning dark; 
Behind the curtains a grotesque, ghastly face appears now
As the double side of your coin is exposed for all to see— 
And when flipped, the truth opens its book quite readily. 

Dropping down a snake crawls upon its soft underbelly, 
And behind the scenes people find this image repulsive,  
Since it portrays how a poisonous viper strikes fatally as
His very mask falls away for all to see his diabolical grin. 

Forbidden is the soul of who you are and want now to be; 
A sweet-talking deceiver I know too well for my own taste; 
One who really hides behind a false face but revels in his 
Deception as the dark demons mask their fear and cowardice. 
Dusk now blends into the night as death comes to life;
I realize now the hellish intent of Lucifer’s own demon
Who stares intently at me with his blackest of eyes—
I see my soul consumed now in the flames of Hellfire!

In my final strength and emotion, I drop to my knees:
Almighty God in Heaven—Save me now . . . Amen!

Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – October 25, 2015 
(Free Verse)


Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2015

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Moonless Nights over South Sudan

Moonless Nights over South Sudan
heartless Moon, don’t tell me that you weren’t looking when soulless soldiers dragged me from my mama’s terrified arms in our village in Rubkona County
I know you covered your ears so you wouldn’t hear my screams piercing the fetid air as those butchers dropped their pants repeatedly ripping my body and soul apart
and I saw you cover your eyes so blinded that you wouldn’t see the stark horror reflected in my own eyes the hot tears scorching my cheeks sobbing for childhood forever lost
oh Mother Moon, Mother Moon please cover your face behind billowy black clouds so that you can’t see your daughter’s dejected, dead eyes
cowardly Moon, I forgive you even after you turned your back on me filling my days only with your dark side as I sink deeper into a black hole with no hope to guide me safely home
but helpless Moon, how can I blame you? for you’re only a mere observer powerless to defend me feeling guilty for abandoning your innocent children
Moon, you’ve witnessed it all before the torn and bleeding the tortured and maimed all tied tightly to weeping trees reeking of despair and pain
Moon, will you soon forget my body dripping with bloody shame? will anyone even remember me? am I no one…with no name? will you, Moon, mourn for me?
like you Moon, I am already ancient over a hundred years it seems yearning for freedom… waiting for death… and I’m only twelve years old
Note: This piece is dedicated to all the women and young girls who have been abducted, raped, and/or killed in the secret rape camps in South Sudan over the past two years. According to a human rights investigator, many of them are held indefinitely, tied up with hundreds of other women in these camps and used as sex slaves. Those women who escape from the sex camps are the lucky ones.


Copyright © Pandita Sanchez | Year Posted 2015

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THE HEADLESS HORSEMEN


On the black stallion of death,
Its red crimson eyes pierce through the night,
And the hell's beast breathes its hot brazen breath
Blazing against the darkness's chilling air!
Does he ride, this phantom of the dead,
Wielding vengeance's sword.
With one hand on the hilt of the blade,
The other arm reaching outwardly,
One finger pointing at his intended victim!
Screaming with a blood curdling howl,
Give me your head vermin, or I'll cut
It off myself, than laughing at their fear!
Beneath crimson fire moon, this hooded and caped,
Death's stalker, hunts down the innocent
Taking that which he desires the most
Their essence of life!
Run to the bridge's safety salvation lies
At the other end beyond.
For these waters cleansing baptism,
Could swallow him whole.
The headless horsemen cannot cross,
These blessed waves of sanctuary,
Or banished is he, hell bound for eternity.
This highway man, rides devastation’s
By ways, of the unknown.
Seeking to restore mind and body,
This Hessian with aggression,
Yearns for justices revenge, to what
Ends bequeath, he cares not, the price
To be paid, in human flesh and blood.
On Saint Hollows Eve, the horsemen
Gallops, across dead-man’s boundary,
Awaiting the stray trespasser, to trip into
His well-hidden trap.
Than striking without mercy's sake,
With its sharpened edge, steel slices
The mortal flesh, taking his prize,
The headless horseman rides away
Into the night.
Yelling, I'll return next Hollows Eve, be thee
So warned, for your salivations sake alone,
Don't tread in Sleepy Hollow after dark!.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN



Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015

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The Locked Room

''Dark things happened there....''
they say, with fading tones,
almost reaching their vanishing point,
due to unhidden fright.

Sometimes they hear eerie moans;
see dancing shadows on the space
between the door and floor; other times
whispers that make them feel as though
they will shatter like hollow glass tubes.

To stop the haunting,
they hired spiritualists to seal
the room's door with their divine will.

Candles flicker in the night,
as voices of the undead wander across the corridors.....


Publishing Date: 25/4/2014


Copyright © Teddy Kimathi | Year Posted 2014

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Closet song

It calls to me,
From the darkness,
It sings,
Ever so sweetly,
A finger beckons,
Bloody and scarred,
I can feel the terror,
Clutching at my heart,
The whispers,
The hinge squeaking,
The door softly creaking,
The covers are over my head,
My throat locked in dread,
The closet inhabited by the dead,
Calling, singing,
The crack widening,
As I begin screaming.


Copyright © Charli Pitts | Year Posted 2015