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Evil History Poems | Evil Poems About History

These Evil History poems are examples of Evil poems about History. These are the best examples of Evil History poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse |


For I am death, the personification of pure evil,
The grand godfather, of legions of unnumbered generations.
Behold thy disciples, baptized beneath my crimson waters,
Of blood.
Then reanimated as the living undead, in mine own image,
These are my forsaken children of the Night.
Kissed by the angel of death, I'm resurrections insurrection,
Spawned in hell a creature devoid of heart or soul, yet do I
Exist, biting at the exposed throat of humanity, leaving it
Drained completely dry.
Does not the white lily turn ember red, within this the
Valley of damnation.
My throne is a black coffin gilded in golden refinement,
Residing beneath the wooden lid, the beast sleeps,
Waiting to be embraced by the darkness of night.
Slowly, emerging from mine cryptic mausoleum,
I'm famished for the taste of the living essence
Of mankind.
A gentlemen reaper of the fallen, deeply do these
Fangs penetrate into the soft flesh of humanity,
Tis a dark blessing's supernatural gift, have I been 
So given, to take life then to restore it.
Raw beasts of instinct, clinging to the ethereal
Moon, that hangs above illuminating this,
Our unholy abyss.
Welcome to a shadow nation of the unseen,
Whose roots extend backwards, to an older country’s
Unconsecrated soil, called Transylvania. 
On mine legacies crest, a red dragon with talons
Extended reaches out, grappling for powers control.
For I am Dracula, born of royal blood in life,
But in death I am a king, let these castle walls
Bleed on forever, and the hounds of hell,
Sing outside my rod iron gates.
But beware mortal flesh if you so enter,
For I will enjoy every trespasser,
Whom dares to venture within my
Sacred territory, with a fiendish smile
Upon my hungering face.


Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

Bastille 2016


Many years ago
They stormed the Bastille
Two hundred and one lost their lives
The tennis court oath however survived

Jacques had his heart with the masses
Necker could not be dismissed so easily
The storming of the Bastille was to be
The birth of a nation for all men free

And free men they were
Running naked through the streets
What they lacked in cake
The made up with in red wine

The Republique was born
A democracy in infancy
Would grow through trials and tribulations
To become a multicultural great nation

Lone angry men filled with such hate
I welcome you to Bastilles’ gate
Of medieval prisons long ago
It is there, you I shall throw

You kill in the name of a God
A God you do not know
Love has escaped from your very soul
Only hate tarnishes your bitter heart

The ghosts of Bastille are mocking
The coward who is filled with such animosity
There never shall be an escape
The soul of the dead shall eternally taunt you

A criminal with no compassion
You have only given us our determination
To battle for the peace of this great nation
You bring us tears; alas we shall turn them to wine

Naked through the streets we shall always dance!

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Silent Lies and Deception

Silent Lies and Deception

In the silence of murky waters
There slithers oily snakes of the night
Wearing masks of deception
Beware of fools singing with Stalin’s tongue

The KGB shall set you free
Drowning you in the river Volga
The cold water keeping your lips tight
Whilst the silent ones spread their deceits

Lies, lies their dirty little lies
I wonder how their tongues wag and loudly sprout
So righteous, like imams with out a doubt
I call for radio silence

When comes the clique of hate
They say they have none, and
Maybe this is true
They run out at times, spreading it to you

Those who truly have good will and peace
Growing like flowers in a botanical heaven
Never spew the bloody insecticides here on earth
That alters the genes of peace in me and you

Beware of white sheep
That howls like the wolf at the full moon
A wise man knows the meaning of silence
Silent ones simply slither sneaky prose in the night

The Caspian Sea
Holds many ghosts who if not for death
Could tell you many silent tales
Of those with a million smiles and twisted masks

Seekers of the Silent Lies and Deception

	Dead Sea and salty tombs

		Silent in womb

Notes: The last poems Angel and Devil, about mans ability for both good and evil, I continued the theme here, by describing two repressive regimes, Russian under the likes of Stalin and Putin and the Palestinian one under Arafat. The poem is either incomplete or to be continued in a second poem, as in the end I inferred the Silent one Amina, a story about the repression and hardships of women in India. An excellent book by a great author Fiza Pathan.

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

Details | Couplet |

To All Of You

There are times we are left to cope
With situations that drain our hope

Leaving us full of despair
At how some people just don't care

About the evil that they do
To good people like all of you

We are left to somehow face
That in mankind there is disgrace

And those of us left alive
Must find away to survive

As you pick up the pieces of your life
Without your mother, father, husband or wife

And some of you God forbid
Without the love of your kids

We must band together with a brotherhood
Show that in this world there is some good

Because we are together in this deal
We try to help each other heal

We seek in each other good advice
And offer each other sacrifice

We hold each other in prayer and song
As we continue to re-build the wrong

Because what else in the world can we do
Except let the light of good shine through

The evil darkness and despair
Of a catastrophic lack of care

We want you to know you are not alone
Think of America as a giant cone

And all of us are funneling through
Our prayers and hopes to all of you

Posted for Nathan's 9-11 contest

Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |


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!.


Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |


Dead men tell no tails, or so the winds of 
Destiny’s say.
On judgment hill from on high, 
Voices do echo downwards, as the 
Noose does sway, back and forth, on the
Hangman's tree.
These gallows, of oaken branches, act as tethers,
 Shackles, holding the forsaken, souls prisoner.
Ghost phantoms cling, to it's rotten limbs,
That break beneath times endless rampage.
Regrets fallen horsemen, of the old west, 
Stand guard, sentinels on horse back,
Wearing a tarnished tin star.
God's law keepers, are  branded, sworn,
By their honor, to protect even after death,
The gates of heaven, from this spawn of hell.
Beware evil desperadoes, no mercy will
This the lord's posses show unto you, 
For these riders bare a different mark.
A silver cross of justice, given by
The Almighty’s hand himself.
Say thy prayers, all lawless men,
For on this day, does the rope tighten,
Around your neck, there is no reprieve,
No salvation for evils deceit.
Hell bound are thou, the devils breed.
But beware, there is no escape,
From this grave site.
At dawns first light, as it spreads
 Across the western horizon.
Know that yee, are one of many spirits
Doomed, to be weaved within the
Tangled limbs, called the hang
Mans tree.










Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2014

Details | Couplet |

Civil War

This evening I listen to a Rock 'n' Roll band
Their track is Civil War, as our world now expands

To us it's the same size but to others they despise
For the want of greed exists in their killer hungry eyes

Where do I start, to say of their evil spread
A different starvation leaving the world in evil dread

It's not our today's but our yesterdays years
That our history tells us, of our everlasting torn tears

Cambodia, the Lebannon, and Sri Lanka's Indian sun
Rebels who demand better at the end of a gun

Guaetamala and Peru with their Shining Path
Villagers in terror decrying it's ever last

Democracy is our power in it's controllable exist
Like the Shining above, how long will our future paths persist

Recent news in the Arabic World, has taken tyrants by surprise
For decades they have stolen with their torturing infidel lies  

I could go deeper and deeper to describe these evils acts
In wanton blood spillage, to increase civil war torn facts

For this is the world we live in, it appears we determine to live
Maybe in our lifetime it will be on our doorstep, we open, our lives will sieve


Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2011

Details | Epic |

Sept 11,the day the world stood still

It was a day like every other day, sunny and warm they said
New Yorkers smiling and happy, looking for their daily bread
Taxis were darting here and there, planes flying everywhere
Children were going to school, parents laying down the rule.

Plans were made for later that day,
Meet you at 7, no, make it 8. I'll do my best not to be late.
Don't worry baby, I don't mind at all, Just please, remember to call.

Who could have known that waking up that day,
that things would happen in an unusual way.
To change forever, the way we think and feel
The events we saw, yes, they were real.

No way to deny it, it was on the news,
With our own two eyes, there were hundreds of views.
over and over we watched, hard to believe,
what we just witnessed, what did it all mean?

What an unusual sight, that plane in flight,
just before the ninth hour, when it hit the tower,
How terrible we thought, answers we all sought
Like, why did that happen, how could it be?

That a plane hits a skyscraper, in plain sight,
In broad daylight, not the dark of night.
Was it pilot error? How could that be?
The tower was right there, for him and all to see!

That moment was special, that moment in time,
when the whole world was watching, yes, stopped on a dime.
We saw the flames burning, our hearts they burned too,
would there be any survivors?... Who knew?

Calls were made, to say I love you,
Life's been good until now, it's been good loving you.
Say goodbye to the kids for me, tell them be strong,
Tell them daddy loves them...goodbye, so long.

We saw a man falling, from way up above,
Who was that man? Did he not feel loved?
or was he just desperate, to escape the heat?
We all watched in horror, as he fell to the street.

So many were dying, it was too hard to bear,
Many just couldn't get down the stairs.
Some just stayed put, thinking help will come,
What they didn't know was, the damage was done.

The bravest ones, I saw that day, firefighters, on the way,
into the fire they would run, climbing higher and higher,
To save others lives...from that raging fire.
They did not know then, it was a tragic mistake,
All they knew was...lives were at stake.

Many escaped from the tower, running for their lives,
we saw them running with terror in their eyes.
So many people were running just like the others,
They were their fathers, mothers, sisters and brothers.

...And then suddenly another plane appeared!
Was it coincidence, orjust something weird?

When it hit the second tower, at that very hour,
it became crystal clear, that it was just as we feared,
It was not a mistake, someone asleep at the wheel,
It was an attack! that one and all, we would feel.

From that day forward, everything would change,
The world was unrecognizable, suddenly so strange.
Innocence was lost, and war came at great cost,
We learned that terror, was more than just a word,
It was what we all saw, felt, and heard.

So now here we are, so many years later,
Is your pain, grief and fear, lesser, or greater?

Only God can help us now, with all of our fears,
It is he, who promises, to wipe away our tears.
And pain, death, and all of our sorrow,
Will all be gone, in what will seem like tomorrow.

Yes, God will surely help us, I know he will.
But, still it's hard to forget, Sept 11

The day the world stood still.

John Derek Hamilton   
December 20,2012 
Final revision October 13,2015

Copyright © John Hamilton | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

War Mentality

They come from a different era
where patriotism is a just cause
they would fight for the true blue
never mind who was right or wrong

they stood staunch and egos proud
their chest out, backs straight and chins up
they come from an old style of thinking
I fight today as my father and grandfather did too.

fighting for an eye for an eye tooth for a tooth
I will die to serve my country even if its a lie
if you try to invade our land
we will come and conquer you

we are defenders of the truth
but the old timers forget
and the young ones have a narrow point of view
there was a time when the immigrants were Irish, Italians and jews

racism was rampant and that hasn't changed
Christians today still preach
'Jesus is savior they say repent your evil ways
pushing their rhetoric just like the roman empire did

amazingly America seems to be doing the same
history seems to repeat itself time and time again
war, religion, oil and what we perceive  as freedom
we invade again and again and call it defending democracy

yet the intelligence comes from spies and other governments
because they have shared interests in different types of policy
they all carefully choose their words
because one slip of the lip could trigger war as it has happened before

todays war on terrorism is a campaign designed  to instill pain 
and un-trust to drain our resources from us 
And our leader claimed up front this is not a religious war
yet he paraphrases from the bible we'll get those evil doers

you see bush fooled our religious leaders too.
he used their belief in Jesus he tricked 'em all just to get their vote
he claims he's a born again Christian and this Christians embraced him holly
but then one day bush spoke to Jesus and asked what to do with Iraq

Jesus responded Invade that country
Now dont get me wrong Jesus was not about war 
he taught of peace, love and compassion
however his message has been twisted and turned over time 

and history shows the hands of Christian religious leaders are always bloody
because they twist the truth to control dictatorship is always the goal
Bush had been plaining war before a judge handed him the seat
on his first day he signed a bill into law prevent any criminal charges against him

Copyright © Ron Flatow | Year Posted 2007

Details | Didactic |

The Guardians of Truth

Our college professor was waxing excitedly
in the bored classroom: “Our mass media
—America's great Fourth Estate—is an
unconquerable force for good in the world
with an unrivaled power to tell the truth!”

A dejected classmate interjected: “Yes,
but a force that's dirty and evil,” stirring
up a commotion in the hushed classroom.
Indeed, wasn't it our mass media which
destroyed a hapless President Carter?
Turned Sarah Palin into a ridiculed pariah?
Ignored Ralph Nader and Bernie Sanders?

Now our news media are demonizing Trump,
calling him a “hater” and “Putin's puppet”
in an anti-Trump orgy of vilification.
Our mass media feed the world with
a few crumbs of truth and half-truth—
along with countless tons of deceptions,
lies and truly Goebbelsian propaganda.

Isn't it our news media which are
brainwashing us that our Constitution
supposedly guarantees every Sunni Muslim
around the world an automatic and
unimpeded entry into America? Or that
Americans who support Trump are
"racists," "xenophobes," "sexists,"
"Islamophobes" and "homophobes"?

Our news media are a mighty force to
be reckoned with, but they are a force
that is corrupt, crooked, and dirty!
They lie, cheat, and twist the truth—
but they are usually so proud of it.

Copyright © Ross Vassilev | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |

Jesus Christ Be Praised

Jesus Christ Be Praised
By Roy Merritt

He went to see the queen of Spain told her the world was round
That he could get to the east going west that’s what he had found
He told her if he sailed the Atlantic kept going that way  
He could find the wondrous Orient could even find Cathay 

Then they wouldn’t have to go east down that long Silk Road 
And worry about the Muhammadans or bandits as they go  
And so after several tries they finally gave in agreed
And gave him the money for three ships whatever else he’d need

And so on August 3 he set sail pushing out to sea
With three ships the Nina, Pinta and the Santa Marie
And so after many tribulations pushing along with the wind
On Oct. 12 they spotted land their journey at its end

They landed in Hispaniola the natives sorely amazed
They’d never seen such a sight in all their many days
They treated the strangers kindly treated them just like kings
Treated them with human kindness amazed by many things

So Columbus returned to Spain told them of many treasures
This land could provide of many great pleasures
But by his third visit there he'd inspired much hate
The natives wanted to kill him they by now irate

He’d turned them to bondage to work as a slave 
Claiming to make them Christian, Christian to be saved 
This be the way the true Christian word
To enslave a man in bondage which certainly be absurd

Oh yes this be the religion Jesus Christ inspired
The one and only true religion soon to spread like fire
And at last it made to Europe continent of the white man
Who declared an intention to spread it to every land

And so off they went conquering Jesus Christ be praised
At the same time enriching himself turning men to slaves 
Turning men to slaves turning them into beasts 
Jesus Christ be praised Jesus Christ GIVE FEAST!

Copyright © Roy Merritt | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |

Vox Populi, Vox Dei

Vox Populi, Vox Dei
"The voice of the people, is the voice of God."  

Purple mourners
Mewling . . .
Lamenting her befuddling demise

Golden victors
Trumpeting . . 
Exalting his phallic rise


Right vs Left / Vice Versa 
“Strategie de la deception” 
Every brain a serpents egg 
In vivo insemination 


Color revolutions 
So audaciously staged
Seditiously scripted
Crafted to  enrage

Rants & Chants
Aired & Amped
On opposite crests
Dug in   Encamped

Cleft tongues flick
Bray & Trumpet
Hobson's Choice
I , or nothing at all 


Ideologues fixing bayonets
Knighted legions close ranks ninefold
Spastic lurching marionettes
Numbered by color   Every heart sold
Banners flying    Purple  &  Gold


Deboned & Cold
A Visage to Behold

"Vox populi, vox Dei,"
Mindless froth in a wormwood sea
Democracy!     Democracy!
Two-headed hypocrisy
Hail to thee      O' Polycephaly
Two Diademed Crowns    One Purple!    One Gold!

gv 2.17E

“Strategie de la deception”: Reference to a work by Paul Virilio one of the most 				significant French cultural theorists writing today.  
"Hobson's choice".  The choice of taking what is offered or nothing at all
"Polycephaly".   A two-headed or multi-headed creature

Copyright © george v. | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |


Beware, out-Lander for thy tread on the sacred ground,
Of Louisiana, guarded by the ghosts of the Mississippi,
And here the dead tell know tails, of the living's returning,
After adventuring into the darkness of the night.
Rattle them bones, sister voodoo woman,
Black magic's high priestess, cast asunder the 
Ivory teeth of the white devils, across the streets
Of old New Orleans, behold the ancient city of lost souls.
Hidden beneath the glittering mask, of La Carnival,
It is the celebration of the dead, my friend, and faceless
Figures, do toss the beads of evil, to the lustful
Crowds gathering, for Mardi-Grad's extravaganza.
Phantom walkers, without names or emotions, spirit stalkers,
Roaming the old French quarter, seeking to catch the
Innocent traveler unaware and unprotected. 
A wall of realism and illusion, thin is the veils that divide
Light and darkness, sheer vaporous mist of transparency,
Existing in this the forgotten realm, where southern
Comfort invites the living to visit, but never allows them
To leave alive.
As the flickering rays of twilight fades, swallowed whole
By the spectral invaders, the creatures of light seek refuges,
Holy places, as the church bells ring, calling unto the innocent
Make heist to salvation's shelters of grace.
In he city's center, lays a dry leathery organ, sunken
And misshapen, feel the rising, the awakening of the
Heart of evil emerging, its veins arteries made of 
Cobble stones brick, thus are the webbing's of streets leading, 
Unto the deadened heart, metamorphosing it alive once more.
Slowly bloods spiritual essence rushes through
These ethereal veins, reaching this source most
Evil, it owns this city of lost souls, unto the tolling
Hour of dawns first rays of light, crossing the horizon.
Red bricked buildings lay side by side one 
Another, in a design of Gothic manipulation, feeding
Stations made cozy for the living and dead to reside
Within, as the crimson curtains blow freely from the 
Inside out, welcome my friends to the French quarters,
The threshold's crossing, between life and death.
Hear the low thumping of the Jamaican drum,
Mixed with African tongue, chanting in rhythm's
Echoing breeze, softly spoken in whispers are the spells
Of misfortune, a vow's crimson promise, written in blood
Long ago, a demonic pack made between the spiritual native
Inhabitance and the dark heart of the Cajun Bayou.
On bloods throne the Grim Reaper does so sit, next 
To his bride, the Queen known as Mrs. New Orleans,
Both laughing in tandem, with the musical chorus
In this requiem of the dammed.


Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |

The Rotten

Analysis read—and wronged—and pulled
Lulled into our idealistic mess
Words no longer ours but hung distress
Farced in carnality—they are ruled

Soundness remains what we will believe 
And all else is but tethered nonsense
Clinched tightly in unfriendly absence
Overcome in overwrought relief

The judges judge on behalf of tongue
When ears and eyes close achingly tight
And perhaps in woe we find them right
For witches sought and bound must be hung!

Lower than the softened dirt that cures
Where worms in halves blindly come to eat
The higher crush with tormented feat
And the suns scorch what is left of hers

Answers never tried—and cured to hide
They look to superior sources
The rotten are the strongest forces
Ripened and toughened with bequeathed pride

-Iambic Tetrameter
Contest: Metrical verse
Sponsor: Giorgio Veneto
Laura Breidenthal

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |

Kingdom Lost

In summertime, the ivy climbs,
and hides the castle wall.
The king dreams of late,
that the sea is so great,
and yet - his boat is so small.
As swift as a fox and
dark as a raven on wing,
seven hundred soldiers march  
into the valley of the king.
Long overdue, a battle ensues
flanking the powers that be.
Children cry, and good men die, 
the monarch is now on his knee…
Soon the horsemen alone 
try to maintain the throne.
But the long way around
is the shortest way home.
The evening is filled
with chaos and smoke,
and the kingdom is 
stunned by it all…
Soon the sun will go down,
and in spite of his crown, 
the king will undoubtedly fall…
His rival’s strength
was mistaken,
by a king overtaken,
his life is now but a pawn.
His authority lifted,
the power has shifted –
an era of glory is gone…

Copyright © Cole Banner | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |


The shifting of many corporeal hands move across this dead cell,
A vacuums vortex, a psychic sponge, charging this battery of
Energy called the spirit board.
Paranormal phenomenon striking plate to enter realities plane
Of existence, for the ethereal challenged in crisis, seeking the
Threshold for spontaneous release, unto our spiritual realm.
Witchery’s board of trickery left in a polarized stance it
So entices the living with its tempting whispering of lies,
Incantations gate keepers wait on the other side of evils
Door way.
Memorizing the human sensory functions into a false
Sense of harmless mystery of the unexplained, it lures
These victims ever closer to weaving its spell of the demonic.
These capture being lost unto the hypnotic effects are
Transfixed unable to hit their override switch that controls
Their mental powers of persuasion, disabled is there strength
Of will power, they belong to the Ouija now.
Clasping do all for sides of the curtain of reality, times
Displacement begins in earnest, without hesitations
Momentary loll this dead cell bursts to life.
Black magic key has been inserted within the wooden
Door way’s heart and soul, a bizarre power bank draws
Forth the energy of the spiritual lost, swinging hells
Kept wide open.
The pancetta spins out of control, smashing against
The barriers of humanity, darkened ebony light shines
Through this doorway of evil and the flickering candle
Turns to a shades greenish blue wavering in the odious
The voice of a thousand screams echo in sheer delight,
We have been freed at last, broken is the trance, the boards
Hypnotic effects are dashed by the light of the dawn.
Dazed in bewilderment the voyeurs are chilled to their
Very inward bones, shaking, staring in awes amazement,
Wondering if these events really happened at all.
Then within these tented walls a voice responds to their
Questioning, laughing, as if a jackal at a fresh kill site!
Foolish mortals you know not what you have done, this
Night, but I promise thee this, laughing once again,
In a demonic under tone, none shall leave this domicile
The entry doors lock without the human touch, the
Curtain windows pull closed, a momentary stilled
Scream, then all is silent, what remains is left up
To my readers to visualize, as the final candle
Blows out!


Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015

Details | Haibun |

1140 Royal Street

The first time I met Madame La Laurie, was in 1832 When she and her third husband (Dr. Louis La Laurie) purchased me. My first impression of Madame La Laurie was that she was soft spoken, of fine breeding, and very beautiful.  

Upon her arrival, she wasted no time filling every nook and cranny at 1140 Royal Street with the finest furniture and china that money could buy. No one looking at the  plain exterior of this house, would ever expect such opulence within it walls.

She wore the latest fashions from Paris with a flare beyond rival, even by the most inducted social lights of the hour, which did not go unnoticed.  Both men and women, would stop in their tracks to gaze upon this regal beauty as she strolled down the main streets of New Orleans.

Soon, with the aide of her husbands connections through his practise, she, gained  acceptance into the higher circles of the community and began hosting what would become, the most sought after dinner invitations in all of New Orleans.

This was the one side of Madame La Laurie that the world saw, but it was I, who bore witness to the other side. NEVER could anyone have ever imagined the atrocities this women committed in her chamber of horrors on the 3rd floor as she maimed, tortured and  murdered any slave that displeased her. 


I was burned badly, when one slave, wanting to end his misery, set a fire in the kitchen, finally bringing her reign of terror to and end, where upon she  fled in her hell driven carriage, into the night, never to be seen again. 

Today, I stand here at 1140 Royal street, completely unrecognizable. I have a different face now. The only thing left one would recognize from that day, would be the old path that runs between me and the adjacent house.  

Lush green foliage now grows along its edge, in what I like to think, a remembrance to the tortured souls who died here.

Between these brick walls
Bright light filters from above
Old seeds bloom again

BUT...IF YOU DARE to walk between these walls, you...like me, THAT OLD HOUSE IN NEW ORLEANS, might see the apparitions of the tortured souls still residing there.


Poetry form: Haibun

For the contest, A House In New Orleans, sponsor, Lin Lane


Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |



In the dark shadows of the ancient past,
Creatures move within the kingdom of darkness,
Hidden illusions of faded forms of existence, roaming the hallowed
Halls in echoing’s of delusions, royal tombs shudder beneath
The grounds at leap castle in Ireland, for here the haunted remain in
Silhouetted ruins of life ethereal! 
It started with the slain royal holy priest, slain in the midst of the
Lords words of Spiritism, at his own brother’s envious sword arm,
Greed’s fever driving him with the madness of fortunes purse strings!
But a deeper evil bore itself within the bowels of the castle hidden
Keep, those murdered by impalements sharpened point edge,
Then left for the courts rats to feast upon, three cartloads
Taken by the future were these skeletal bones removed,
Unknown by names thus so buried in a mass grave of the
But this sacrilege awakened something horrid, an unnatural
Entity, a supernatural beast known as simply the elemental,
Or thing, residents in residence in this unholy place of the
Hauntings ethereal displaced!
Whom knows for which it came, this vile creature of the
Demonic darkness, oozing with the foul odor of burnt flesh,
And molds decay, the beast roams without mercy’s reverence,
Tormenting the living, driving them utterly mad at the sight of
Wrapped in the shaggy hair of the untempt dog, it has the
Piercing eyes of the hell hound, yet the boney fingers of death
Touch at the living to torment, with a playfulness of a family pet,
Smiling in a seething temperate with its wide griming sharpened
Fangs, the thing awaits for the screaming to begin!
Within this castle of pain, many lucid men and women
Have gone insane, trying to escape from this venue of evil,
But hell’s accrued castle retains a heavy toll from the mortal
Souls of humanity!
In the storms of the ages it’s been battered this collision
Clammily of stone and mortar, built and rebuilt until the
Living left it to rote and ruins ultimate decay, no priests
Words of holy resistance, can save those spiritually trapped,
But time and nature, vengeances is a force even the supernatural
Cannot resist!
But some men never learn, and have rebuilt what should
Have remained left alone, and it, the thing awaits once more
In the shadows of the past, ready to emerge at the right
Mishaps turning, and beware the evils rebirthing in the halls
Of Leaps Castle!



Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015

Details | Cowboy |

Ringo's Last Ride


It’s way back in the eighties, of  the eighteenth century,
the bad man Johnny Ringo, did stalk Arizona free,
from Lukeville  to Sonoro, he dealt his darkest hand,
and sought to take the silver, from outlawed Mexican band

With Curly Bill and Scott Corley, he ambushed smuggler’s
band, their heavy bags of silver, sure lookin kinda grand,
gunshots smoked the many, some were kept for sport,
tortured in the hot sun, without a kindred thought

Now Ringo took to spendin, his gotten gains with glee,
and tabled games of poker, he played while he was free
but Wyatt Earp got wind of  him, or so the story goes,
and shot him thru the head one day, sleepin peacefully

Now many’s took the claim, for shootin Johnny thru,
but others say he took his life cos drinkin made him blue,
and if you want to see the place, they laid his body down,
he’s in West Turkey Valley, on the other side of town

Copyright © Peter Lewis Holmes | Year Posted 2015

Details | Iambic Pentameter |


What danger's now beneath our very eyes
born of forgetfullness? 0! Time it flies!
and before long, lays to the past
the very things we should have last,
but much too soon, all memory it dies;

and then the xenophobic nature shows,
from places where you'd never think it grows
and nourished by the futures' doubt
we feed on it, and let it out
until it's grown beyond what heaven knows;

all blame is layed to any who remind,
that they are grouped into another kind,
and when we need to symbolize
what's here and plain before our eyes,
a crooked cross is all that we can find.
© vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet

Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2016

Details | Haiku |

Haiku x Two

Humble angels implore
Kaffirs unsaddle holy alms
If Kings underrate

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |





It wasn’t the Pharaohs that ruled the Nile
It was the priests that sanctioned  their style
As long as the Pharaoh kept playing ball
The priests insured that he’d never fall
To make him acceptable to poor and unshod
They elevated his position to a living god

Scams have existed for thousands of years
They prey on ones greed and mortal fears
People have been duped by the glib  tongue
Like Lenin, Amin, Castro and Mao-Tse-Tung
Cultures are swayed by the gifted speaker
Obscuring the facts from the reality seeker

Elections are  stolen with factual distortions
Twisting the truth  into diametric contortions
Demagogues and tyrants have little to fear
They just say what the masses want to hear
Independent thought can be a risky proposition
A word in the wrong setting can send you to prison

That kind of oppression can’t happen here
We’re a democracy with nothing to fear
They follow the polls ,the trends are clear
Our leaders will say what we want to hear

Copyright © John Arribas | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |


From the age of seven
they were sent down the mine.
The darkness struck terror
but they dare not complain.

With the dust and the grit
in that black evil place
they crawled through the filth
to work at the coalface.

When they cut a new seam 
it turned the air toxic.
They coughed and they choked
and struggled in panic.

When they tried to escape
they could not get away
as the exit was locked
til the end of the day.

When the coalface collapsed,
alive they were buried.
Some were never dug out
but just left there as dead.

When a child died like that,
parents offered some pence,
which the coalmine owner 
thought was fair recompense.

In that meanest mine-shaft,
with each child a cheap slave
there were many young deaths
and the pit was their grave.

Copyright © Tony Hargreaves | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Pixel Wars

Tingling toes
of the megabyte cavalry
callouses scraping
along private roads
Cascading matrices
on the plasma periphery
peasantry bleating
on official commands
Stewing a cauldron
a festering foment
watering nations
from acid-soaked cans
say the oracles
so buying a check
but electing the cavalry
leaves the infantry wet

Copyright © Aron Jacob | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |

Young Witches Buried In Shallow Graves

In the Middle Ages
witchcraft was wide-spread;
young witches were buried
in shallow graves.

The angry bard was also a monk and defended the Church,
" No witches of any age will be roaming in Catholic Florence
and allowed to practise their magic by the glow of the torch! "
From the pulpit he made his voice rise and broke the silence.

He felt the presence of the other witches who gathered 
outside the church; he trembled a little, but continued 
his speech of condemnation that to them wasn't eloquent,
" Go to sleep and never rise again " was the loud chant.  

All seemed peaceful on that Good Friday with the rain falling,
the bells of the basilica tolled to mourn the crucified Christ;
the altar was draped in purple, the glass windows were dark,  
the parishioners waited, the bard never came to the mourning.

" Mourn the barn's death! Christ forgave all sinners, he did not!"
" He burned them at the stake not as criminals but as heretics!"
" We'll protest and revenge their death so inhuman and unjust!"
The witches' chant was louder than the lament of the believers.    

Written on 5/31/2016

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2016

Details | Quatrain |

The St Bartholomew's Day Massacre

Oh bloody and evil Catherine de Medici. The queen has acted impetuously. Thousands have died because of her demands. Witness her red bloodstained hands. A wedding is a time of joy and jubilation. Instead, there is death and devastation. She thought the Huguenots would seek retaliation. It started with an attempted assassination. An attempt was made on Admiral Gaspard de Coligny. He led the Huguenot protestant party. Catherine took some Machiavellian action. She wanted to eradicate this rebellious faction. There had been widespread death throughout the land before. Peace brought an end to civil war. Margaret de Valois had married Henry of Navarre. Once again, hostility permeated the air. Killing spread from Paris to the countryside. In just a few months, thousands had died. No bloodier episode had ever been seen. The culpable party was the evil queen. I thank Wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for information I obtained to write this poem.

Copyright © Robert Pettit | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

The kiss of betrayal

I heard about a name
that gave it all to the evil game
taking in vain - the son of man
a few silver coins and little bit of fame.

eternal shame
for the main event 
of his evil deeds 
for ever be a slave in chains

thrown down to the deep
away from the earth
his name was revoked  in a heartbeat - from the book
and the devil gave birth 

to the betrayal of JESS
he implanted in his heart
treason with a kiss
giving up the light for the dark

good  for wrong
life for death
and for ever he is gone
from the life giving breath

damned is he who will follow
evil man with a evil walk
so we all should swallow-the holy spit 
when GOD shall speak

don't be like the dark prince
traitor with evil deeds 
perhaps false messiah 
having sex with 7 years old kids

do forgive me if I'm wrong
but at 7 years old-still a child
at nine she gave birth to another child
another creature that has to stop being a child - for a while

mean while
emotions are running wild
thinking the messiah was reborn
somewhere in the wild

as a animal
humble eyes and fake smile
slaughter with cannibals
messiah's favorite carnival 

you could call me Hannibal
so I'll recruit another Army
to defeat the madness
and live in peace and harmony

Copyright © Diogenes Zuniga | Year Posted 2009

Details | Couplet |

ConKu In Progress

The Beheading of Thomas

Let the clowns play on heathens dirt floors
With the rabble and unwashed masses

The Squires shall reside above
With men at arms and knights of superior glove

Allegiances to kings and royal courts
Let the bishops sort out the cohorts

Be deceived not by those with no letters
Saying they are poets for the better

They worship their own idol minds
While the wise ones seek out their own kind

Seekers who only find battle
Silent ones who preach with loud voices

Forewarning to the masses
You have better choices, forget their pretentious classes

Walk among the islands grazing sheep
Contemplation rewards the humble and meek

Trumps Rubies may shine today
Under rubble I assure you

They shall be one day

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |

Born Evil

Even as a child he was cruel       As an adult he was paranoid and unstable
It was fun to torture animals  Forced thousands to flee their lands
Throwing them off high places     He was obsessed with torturing and killing
       Had his own torture chamber       Destroyed thousands of villages 
He killed his wife after one day        In a massacre he killed 60,000 people
Everyone was an enemy to him    Parents watched him kill their children
  He even killed his own son in a rage    Liked to feed people to bears and wolves
Carried a long staff and used it       He would order an execution and watch
Ordered people to be beheaded        Girls were raped and tortured slowly
    Hanged, burned, boiled, impaled      And used as target practice for enjoyment
And more, so horrible I cannot write   His torturing could last for 15 hours
  This event in history was long               He was Tsar of Russia from 1533 - 1584
He was Ivan the Terrible           He died playing chess, poisoned it is said.
June 26, 2016

Jagged Verse

Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2016

Details | Narrative |

Faith, rationality and Islam: a crisis

The world shared some turmoil; what went wrong?
that was the question, deplored the argument;
It’s all about Pope Benedict’s address
given to his old university at Regensburg
in Germany where he had taught –
a number of years with total commitment,
genuine dialogue and contribution.

His theology speaks about history and faith
its rationality and intellectual debate
meant to participate without any regret;
with relationship between faith and intellect.

The darkness of a new episode or story to tell,
barbarism that the Pope fears in this generation;
perhaps abuse and neglect of fundemental values
that’s growing  decadence of moral continuation.

It’s how he sees now the postmodern Europe,
in different ways where there are revelations;
a climate of relativism and shared influence
secularism in the service of separation.

What’s binding in his theological rejoinder
church’s original faith expressions and traditions
a cultural product of time shared with modern trust
revisited and highlighted with modern ideas.

Plato and Aristotle are indeed proponents
of Greek philosophical tradition;
their influence in the medieval Latin formation
shared some dialogue along with revelation.

What was exactly quoted in Pope Benedict’s address
referring to Manuel II Palaeologus 
“show me just what Muhammad brought that was new,
and there you will find things only evil and inhuman,
such as his command to spread by the sword
the faith he preached.”

There’s a vivid brusqueness in this statement,
however, he explained between faith and reason;
the Muslim world reacted with anger and conclusion,
that Pope Benedict had denounced the Qu’ran in its existence.

Not in his own personal view how he said it,
without any polemics to pounce on its evil meaning
Qu’ran as an unmediated word of God;
the message of the Prophet it descended –
on Muhammad; it came from God.

Hostility continued to draw the line of division,
A process of theological need and understanding
With shared witness and value in today’s relativism,
Pope Benedict had reason completely credible.

Copyright © mark escobar | Year Posted 2012