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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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Human Horror House by Leiser, Laura
horror of heart by Hanson, Steve
OH, THE HORROR by Tidd, Jim
horror: haiku by Geiger, Paul
World Horror Must End by Stoner Jr, Robert
War Horror by Micuda, Lesley
The Horror of Ebola Virus Disease by Camp, Elton
Horror In Hawaii by davis, robin

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The Best Horror Poems

Details | Horror Poem | |

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

More great poems below...

Details | Horror Poem | |

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

Details | Horror Poem | |

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

Details | Horror Poem | |



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
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
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
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
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


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

Details | Horror Poem | |

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,
I put the blade to my wrist.
I start to add pressure.
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

Details | Horror Poem | |



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.

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 

       ***For Contest
       ***Trashed #2, 
       ***sponsor, Broken Wings

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

Details | Horror Poem | |

For Sale

My Heart
Still beats

My Heart
Low mileage
Over rocky roads

My heart
In vaulted box
Shipping included

No strings attached

Copyright © arthur vaso

Details | Horror Poem | |

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

Details | Horror Poem | |

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 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 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

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

Details | Horror Poem | |

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-

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

Story Poem

Copyright © Sneha RV The literature lover

Details | Horror Poem | |

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

Details | Horror Poem | |

Flanders Screams

A gentle wind asks Answered, simply, why not still Said family grieve .

Copyright © James Fraser

Details | Horror Poem | |

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

Details | Horror Poem | |


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

Details | Horror Poem | |

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 | Horror Poem | |

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

Details | Horror Poem | |

Water Wall

As he slept in tranquil dream, 
Suddenly he flew, it seemed. 
Thrown and landing on the floor, 
Shaking walls and splintered doors. 

Just as quick, the room grew still. 
Distant tremors he could feel. 
Out the door, and up the rock, 
There he stood in sleepy shock. 

How could oceans disappear. 
Then a hissing he could hear 
And a trembling, heavy roar 
Headed for an empty shore. 

Sunrise turned a greenish hue, 
As he climbed, a better view. 
Seeming far too large, he saw 
What must be a water wall. 

Thought of ancient stories told 
Of a wrath that could unfold; 
Sucking oceans with a breath, 
Spewing endless waves of death. 

Instinct quickly cleared his mind. 
Panic now, he clawed and climbed. 
Up, despite the screams he hears, 
As a village disappears. 

Once an evil came to call, 
Scooped them up and took them all. 
Now he's old, his stories wane, 
Of the morning Satan came.

Gene Bourne 




Copyright © Gene Bourne

Details | Horror Poem | |

Humble Pie

He prepared the pie
With greatest care
Within the pot 
My brains and hair
For hers had been
A lofty perch 
Just a peg or two
Would never do

Cremated remains
Formed the shell
Into the plate
My crushed bones fell
I could still see
But could not yell
The pie's aroma
A story to tell

My innards baked
Hour by hour
The smell of blood
And blackened flour
Words poured in
Enhanced the flavour
The humble pie 
For her to savour

Fork to mouth
My body consumed 
From the plate
My heart exhumed
The baker says 
She's eating crow
The taste is bitter
She eats the pie slow

The true recipe
He does not show
Humble pies plentiful
Stacked row on row
The victims many
Some you may know
If he invites you
I beg you not to go!

For Sheri's Plentitude of Pie Contest, 

I went with a halloween twist.

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux

Details | Horror Poem | |

Blind Panic

Blind panic

There was a warning came one day
It said disaster’s on its way
An old volcano in the distance
It could erupt in any instance

The molten ash came pouring out
As neighbouring village was in doubt
Folk were running to and fro
It seems they had nowhere to go.

Buildings were cracking one by one
Blocking out the golden sun
This thing did turn our day to night
As everyone was filled with fright

As the Earth did turn to lava
Many prayed to the holy father.

Vera Duggan  16 August 2014.

Copyright © Vera Duggan

Details | Horror Poem | |

Halloween Eve Black Mass Incantation

We Pray In The Name of Our Father Lucifer, 
Which wert in Heaven:

Boil, Boil plague-ridden rats and toads in oil,
With a pair of gleaming snake eyes too.
Mix in fresh hen’s blood and a rabbit’s paw,
With a touch of horse dung and a lizard’s tail too.
Add six cups of Vitriol and a tablespoon of Goldwater.
Stew, Stew this Stygian alchemic brew for ne’r six hours
During Vespers for Our Midnight Black Mass on All Hallows’ Eve.
Serve this unholy sustenance to Our Coven at midnight,
As we pray in Great Lucifer’s name for his guidance
In defeating Jehovah’s forces of good and light.
We do this in the name of Great Lucifer—The Dark One.
We seek Blackness, Darkness, Degradation, and Negation—
As Our Coven has the power of His Power as granted
By His Unholiness when the full moon’s shadow
Crosses the face of the Earth. 
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany
(October 5, 2014) (Narrative Incantation poetic format)

Copyright © Gary Bateman

Details | Horror Poem | |


Dear members of Poetry Soup, here I present my most awesome poem to date. 
It is best appreciated while listening to my mate Andy's recital. 
So please open- 
and read along.
Here goes:


When the sanctuary
Of sunlight sinks
And dark shadows
Lay across your thoughts
Spiteful talons
Scrape against your reason
Their dragging
In your mind

<     >

Out beyond your vision
In the darkness of the hour
Your doubts stir
Foul damning words
That pierce you
Slicing through your certainty
Severing the flow
Of your integrity
Chill words
Spoken so close 
They breeze past your ear
And settle like ice
On your dignity
Sounds of movement so near
That doubts brush
Your confidence

<     >

In the gloom
These doubts
Your every mistake
Real and imagined
Your honest intentions
Mercilessly proven
Your courage
And Morale
Lost in the darkness
Surrounded by doubts

<     >

Doubts twist
Blur reality
From hidden self
Igniting fear
Pupils dilating
Heart racing
Torn from your chest
Undesired self

<     >

When the sanctuary
Of sunlight rises
And dark shadows
Are chased from your thoughts
Hopeful hands
Massage your reason
Their comforting
Your mind

Copyright © scott thirtyseven

Details | Horror Poem | |

Hitler Burns

Hitler is burning
He burned yesterday
He will be burning tomorrow
He began to burn immediately 
after his last breath.
Hitler will burn forever.
He would gladly accept a drop
of cool water on his tongue
from the least of those at Auschwitz,
at Dachau, at Warsaw, at Flossenburg.

Now, he knows.

He needs no convincing;
how cruel he was,
how wrong he was,
how doomed he was,
from the moment he began
to devalue those he termed
 “useless humanity.”
Now, he understands
that each one
was more acceptable than he.

He has total recall of each 
prideful thought, callous decision,  
every brutal act, 
Now, he sees their faces
perpetually before him.

Hitler cannot escape the flames,
his torment will never end.
Yet he is not consumed.

Hitler burns. 

Copyright © Cona Adams

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A Cold Dark Yellow Unhallowed Moon

A cold dark yellow unhallowed moon smiles beguilingly
In the pitch black starless and cold empty night sky 
Suckling upon the blood and the very life force of 
Pure innocence, light, and goodness . . . .

Fear stirs eerily in the forlorn sound of a fog horn that’s
Blowing and crying a sad echo haunting far in the distance
It warns of the imminent arrival of a malevolent Hellspawn 
Force of absolute unmitigated evil . . . The Phantom Vampire.

As the Phantom Vampire materializes from nowhere in the 
Darkest shade of night blanketed in the thickest of fog and 
The coldest of night air . . . One can sense with utter fear 
And foreboding shivering sounds touching from the shadows
Creeping softly cold fingers down the spine with walking 
Fingers crawling inside a prism of frozen ice and in a mist 
Of souls crying in the presence of demons while yearning lust 
Of one blanket covering the sky’s face painted showing 
Hell’s own hideous face—an exquisite evil and a spirit
Drunken and moaning in an eternal fiery abyss of 
Suffering and howling sounding their own lust for pain 
Great darkness grips them who walk this troubled Earth
Without joy casting happiness to the lepers always and
Forever chained to the darkness and eating out hope
In the very end . . . . 

From this spider’s web and nest of dark perpetual evil
The Phantom Vampire transforms himself from ethereal
Form to his human form quite frightening indeed for
Any human being gazing at his grim countenance and
His most fiery red eyes glaring intently whenever he
Encounters an unsuspecting soul . . . and the sight of 
His razor-sharp canine teeth bring on convulsive fear 
In the hearts and minds of his intended victims . . . .

The Phantom Vampire’s ritual on the foggy nights of the
“Cold Dark Yellow Unhallowed Moon” is to drink the blood 
Of as many young innocent people as he can all the while 
Destroying their lives and tormenting their souls in an 
Unending Existence of evil and debauchery as minions of 
The Undead . . . . 

As a servant of Lucifer himself, the Phantom Vampire’s 
Principal charge is that of a “Soul Seeker”— and seeking 
Them he does quite successfully while destroying lives  
This unending process is interrupted only by the dawn of 
The next day’s morning as the bright rays of sunlight warm 
The Earth and purify and sanctify the power and purpose of 
The Almighty Lord God . . . . 

As a priest . . . a man of the cloth in this bucolic Irish village
Along the sea coast, I hold my head in shame and revulsion
At the evil escapades rendered by the Phantom Vampire
During his nocturnal visits to feed on the blood and souls 
Of our innocent people . . . .   

I always turn and talk to God while earnestly praying for their 
Blind souls through their gossamer eyelids and seeking the 
Lord’s divine protection and delivery from this most dark and 
Wretched evil . . . May the bright sunlight show them the 
Road to true happiness during the Feast of All Souls and to the 
Gates of Salvation . . . .

With no fear and with most clear purpose in mind and the divine 
Support of our Almighty Lord God in Heaven . . . I shall be the 
One fulfilling God’s charge in driving that long wooden stake— 
Blessed with Holy Water and Angel’s Dust—through that 
Evil dead putrid heart of the Phantom Vampire! 

Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem, 
Copyright © All Rights Reserved (November 6, 2014) 
(Free Verse poetic form)

Copyright © Gary Bateman

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Stones In The Honeyed Ring Of Time

Stones In The Honeyed Ring Of Time

Sitting here dejected, mere pile of bones
pleasure, just memory in darkest past.
Strip out each lie one polishes and hones
facing truth, nothing can forever last! 

Stark reality of deeds soaked in slime 
pain, a racing bird sent to torture me. 
Memories in the honeyed ring of time 
everything costs dearly, nothing is free!

Evil are the chains wrapping my crushed Soul 
Time, a sword cutting so deeply my heart.
lost hope of any future winning goal 
sad truth is ripping rest of me apart!

Pile of bones, only treasure I have got. 
Smelling meat, seeing its hideous rot!

Robert Lindley, 01-10- 2015

Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables:	140
Total # Lines:	17  (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically:	 
Total # Words:	100

Copyright © Robert Lindley

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A Demon Confesses

A Demon Confesses

I shun the light and do so cast the stone, 
rot the meat , ravenously eat the bone
Cut my way deep in every man that falls,
eat my thrills as my victim mercy calls!

Shadows, adorning my cloaks worn with pride,
once entered I rot the mind as I ride
Pain and agony my pets serve so well,
my purpose, sending 'em all right to Hell!

Long claws my daggers I do finely shine,
accept my gifts, your soul then is all mine
Dark laughter is my sweet joy letting loose,
long is you wail, your head is in my noose!

I too, serve my dark master very well
loyal demon, freed from the bowels of Hell!

Robert Lindley,
 no date- Edited today, shortened to a sonnet 
written so very long ago!

A taste of dark,
demons a reality so very stark,
I write safely within this brilliant light
spewing truth out to win another great fight..-08/24/2014

Copyright © Robert Lindley