Best Doom Poems


Premium Member Legion of Doom

howling black wolves complain to new moon,
of devastation wrought by creatures!
different from rest in size and shape,
walk on two legs, strange hairless features!

in packs behind rigid barriers,
cunning to modulate world to needs,
the rivers run dark under their feet,
trees have perished to nourish their seeds!

clouds now migrate away to the south,
it thunders and rains where once desert,
vast oceans expand as glaciers melt,
cold death now haunts where once birds would nest.

hunt us down, say are born of devil,
spare not a thought for nature’s reasons,
we hunt when hungry, the weak and lame,
but they kill for game in all seasons!

fire horrors ravage homely woods,
cuckoo laments morning with its lore, 
big herds that walked now dress their rooms,
world is wounded, earth is bleeding sore!

Horror! Horror! we cry to the moon,
our laments tear down the dark silence,
ruled by these creatures with hearts of stone,
they are destructive sans repentance!

we fear not ghosts that lurk in the dark,
nor dripping blood from a sharpened steel,
greater horror lurks where these things haunt,
a pestilence that rocks nature’s keel!

Written 3/May/2021
Funom Makama sponsored
Horror poetry contest

9 syllables each line- 
lines2 and 4 rhyme in all quatrains!
POTD 05/05/2021

Doom Bleeds and Fades

freedom lies with a shattered grace
stumbling toward atomic mythology
where answers have their sins washed
brilliantly bright as suns dyeing skin off-
colors of rumors circulating planets
of the universe pulled headlong into a night
-mare riding tattooed and complaining
about recollections of severed ghosts
(hiding in a ball of fear minds cry)

out of season the earth radiates melting
enraged stupidity the penultimate prize
(summer sunday christmas chimes)

on the edge of sleep falling awake...

ring the festival of blood into session
the birth-fangs grapple with truth no longer will 
recessions bring harvests the moon is full

...and the eye is a clogged vessel full of truth
(in relative position the evening twists elaborate
dances like guitars bending the last strings...)

a painting of a brain chips and disintegrates
like words of a schizophrenic seeking the last
wisdom hidden in the bottom of a noise 
only tasted...with the throat closing vision narrows...

the fading archetype is the last opiate of inspiration
the last leader is a shill of the lord of matter dissipating
(two raindrops collide) the core of her heart is hot
like earth it is revised toward oblivion...

...follow it it is
...night brighter than calm
...lipids sinking into servitude
...no one will digest this but all
choking dry paranoia on the fringe of town

(a different verb writes in the sky a new eternity)

...we witness the madness of a faceless doctor
scratching scripts illegible to the naked lie...

conscripted as a rat before a snake fighting its shadow
diving into the blind dream we call created angels
to save our skin from weeping generations of blood...
© Alex Roth  Create an image from this poem.

Bedroom of Doom

A child shrieks on darkness’ edge
For fear of what’s within the black
A tense reaction, shivering too
At thoughts of something to attack
But no, there’s nothing that so comes
Yet, child cries and prays for light
With blanket pulled above the brow
He does his best to cope with fright
He fears the coming of the night
And prays that all will turn out right

His eyes so close before the dawn
As sleep prevails and fear subsides
So stretching then on morning’s wake
From the bed, he leaves to rise
The fear he had was but erased
As light had won the battle well
With feet then touching on the floor
A new fear came and then he fell
As talons clawed, he met his doom
The child had never escaped his room


A Beautiful Doom

Oh Death!
Thou art fool to think that  you can intimidate me. 
No more…..
Come, 
big brother.
Let us have a party,
and we shall see who survives the night.
Come, 
big brother.
Let us hold our hands together,
and sing an ode to the past.
Come, 
shrouded in your white ribbons. 
Let us have a beautiful doom.

Ship of Doom

" Ship of Doom "

Ship of doom so sailed to sea ~
Dark her course... 'twas meant to be ~

Into seas this great ship sped ~
Her past... her history... of naught but dread ~
O'er those waves her bows did'st cleave ~
Her memories... but silken webs to weave ~

Thunder on her decks was heard ~
Yet sailors aboard spake no word ~
For ship such as she was doomed thus so~
Gone north into winds then fierce a'blow ~

Down her bows crept steadily then ~
None to know which verse thus then ~
For rime was abound on her decks those days ~
Yet aloft was fire seen from her stays ~

Off afar from crow's nest was hailed ~
As below in her belly that crew did bail ~
For her planks ridden with dark worm & rot ~
Such ship did'st sail from whence known not ~

Far corner o'globe she ran from ever ~
Home her port seen oft yet never ~
Equator her line of happenchance ~
Capricorn her thought yet not her stance ~

Now she sails a spars a'glisten ~
A'deck her men all a'listen ~
Now speaks thus such sorrowful ship ~
With voice akin to crackin' o'whip ~

Hail! Ye Lads.... heartily all ~
Sail we've had & such so a'ball ~
Now deep down Davy Jones' way ~
I'm thus bound this cold north day ~

My sprit I drive now into next wave ~
Darkness & silence I do now crave ~
Gone from me now pleazure o'sound aloft ~
For me hull is naught but now gone soft ~

I'll seek that bottom at sea's very depths ~
Were there I'll find my wager thus kept ~
With devil I’ve played throughout these years ~
Now I’ll so lay to rest all such fears ~

Sail with me now lads & lasses bold all ~
Into realms which di'dst us then enthrall ~
Gone only now our fine spark & fire ~
Quenched so by life's sodden quagmire ~

Off now go we & heads look a'forard ~
To see what 'twas behind & now not toward ~
Rocks... reefs... depth’s sandy shoals ~
These so now our woe begotten goals ~

So to break up these planks hath caused me to live ~
For as ship o'the main I was once known to give ~
Now all such gone with wild sea's winds ~
As now my time... mirrors death's sins ~

Down down down do I speed ~
In need o'sleep... dark do I need ~
Run now quickly from my decks so I say ~
Or with me in devil's depths ye shall play ~

Bouzouki in hand I now last am at rest ~
For with song always I have been best ~
Tsifteteli my dance so join me now so ~
For life is naught that which e'er we'll know ~

SeaWolf
©

Premium Member Harlot

crimson lips
stained with blood of saints
rides the beast
steers the reins
embittered roar portends doom
her end imminent


Spin a Shadorma 
Nette Onclaud
6/3/25

** Photo not my creation
© Tom Woody  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Where Are We Headed

Where are we headed? I know not where
Where are we headed? I know not why
Where are we headed? I know not how
Where are we headed? I know not to whom

Is it better to know or not to know?
Is it better on my own or with you?
Is it better if you come to me or I go to you?

Wonder is an aphrodisiac that may lead me to you
Surprise is not enticing but it may lead me to you
Uncertainty is terrifying yet exciting and it may lead me to you

Where are we headed, me and you?
Where are we headed? hopefully not to doom
Where are we headed in this world and how will we bloom?

Premium Member Doom And Gloom

Priests of Doom and Gloom:
Fear, the seat of their feigned
power. We, meaning them, know
best: follow us and be saved
or risk eternal pain and suffering~
being forever graved! Yet some, as
I, choose the worship of one word,
Love! Avoiding Dogmatic Mercenaries,
Faux stand-ins, for the one, true,
God, all merciful, unlike the Above.
© Joe Dimino  Create an image from this poem.

''Depth of Doom''

Bottomless ocean speak your rhythmical path.
Beautiful world if only a glimpse embedded in my mind.
I shall capture the essence of unknown in detail.
I sigh a slow breath.
Yet danger may soon approach.
For I will not stay but in this moment short lived.
In the depths free from sound.
Vivid sight of fish that stir larger than man could imagine.
Strengthen me,devour me not.
Oh' stellar shot....

''Attack Poetry Contest''
sponsored by..Carolyn Devonshire

Doom

They don’t believe the Earth is dying
Slowly, painfully, day by day
They think that money can fix the problems
For the few they admit, they sit and pray

They think money can fix the problems
Surgeries to make you thin
Pills to make you eat less
Cars to fit into the world’s newfound laziness

Politicians thinking they can just quit
Who are avoiding the whole issue
They say that they want to fix it
All want us to think they ‘think green’

Laziness is the new epidemic
Vaccines the new health food
When veggies cost more than cupcakes
You know this world is doomed

We’re stuck in a downward spiral
Laziness, asthmatics, childhood obesity…
What more do I need to say?
We brought this on ourselves, yet they don’t see

Factories on every corner
Driving to the corner and back
Gas guzzlers, smoke stacks, oil fires
They wonder why the sky is turning black

Las Vegas is the new Phoenix
And Michigan the Alaska
Hurricanes in January
Tornadoes in November

They turn a blind eye
Though we all know they see it
Money has all the answers
Let’s see the new cars in ’08

Give it ten years if that
Then maybe they’ll realize
The sorrowful mistakes they’ve made
They’ll be forced to open their eyes

We’re all doomed, you know?
It’s only a matter of time
Whether we freeze or we boil
Is a choice we all have to make

Stop the disaster now
If not that then slow
If we don’t do something today
Well, I think this you all know.

Shores of Doom and Gloom In Your Faith

Shores of doom 
Needn’t engulf the space in your mind
Where without your will gloom
Can’t inhabit until faithless fleas and spiritual sleaze find

Room and space to waylay and slay without delay
The faith you profess to possess
In a spray without a ray stray
Strung and hung when you dispossess

Your faith of the strength and depth
Which faith has sunk into its roots
In each significant step and faith breath
You smuggle and gaggle in the boots

You wear with pride as you deride the loss
You claim not to suffer in the dwarf
You call disbelief and the abandon toss
Spotted in the wharf

Where faith ought to find succor
By virtue of the pride of place
You claim to allocate to the anchor
Faith can’t in your mind squeeze from a disbelief trace in a lace

Shores of doom and gloom striving to mount
On your faith a determined assault
Within a number of sorties you dismount
As conscience pangs claim it’s no longer our fault.

Premium Member How the Red Baron Met His Doom

Alas, the famed Red Baron bit the dust.

   His last flight in his Fokker was a bust.

      Some thought Snoopy shot him down,

         But t'was a dude named Roy Brown,

            Leaving Charlie Brown and his friends nonplussed!



Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved


NOTE:  There is controversy to this very day about who and how the
Red Baron actually died.   Canadian pilot Roy Brown claimed he shot
him down but there is some evidence that he may have been hit by a
rifleman from the ground.   Here's hoping this will keep you awake at
night worrying about it!!!

Premium Member The Baneful Sonnets Doom

Dark energy spreads ink across the universe, 
dripping scarlet liquid fated by black magic. 
As the wheels spin poets' necromantic verse,
dark energy spreads ink across the universe,  
and trumpeting angels’ mighty blasts rehearse.
The baneful sonnets doom driven by tragic.
Dark energy spreads ink across the universe,
dripping scarlet liquid fated by black magic.   

Dark energy spreads ink across the universe,
As the wheels spin poets' necromantic verse,
and trumpeting angels’ mighty blasts rehearse.
The baneful sonnets doom driven by tragic,
dripping scarlet liquid fated by black magic. 
Disk dim damning polemics prosing perverse.
© I Am Anaya  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Daughters In Doom

Oh my beautiful Daughters
what have you done to the men of the Earth,
turning the roar of men's' love into notes of shame and whispers,
discoloring the gallant glow of trust with untempered lust for popular worth,

I made you to be embodiment of something sacred,
a steadfast source of Divine sincerity in the chaos of Man's struggle to be heroic,
to soothe and inspire His hope for honor, to be the hand he could hold in the tremor of dread,
in the Begining you did this much and more, exceeded the seed of my dream, making Them historic,

But you, my remorseless and rabid Girls
sought to be worshiped as a cult of marauding maidens of madness,
a horde of haughty harpies wanting glory your own, thrones tailored from supine bones,
pleasured as predators of Princes and paupers
saddistic seducers of troubadours and savants,
making " high minded " heros helpless on the cliffs of your thrills,

Oh my ravenous Daughters what have you done to the hearts of men,
what have you become with speared touch and rough laughter,
warm in love sport and cold in lip lies,
the Furies have your fame and faces framed in black flame
the day is soon when your beauty will become ashen, charms unmet with passion,
and the Furies will befriend you
adorn with thorned fashion, feed you a vulture's ration,

Nemesis is on your terrible trail of predatory travail
She to unveil the wail of your reward's gale,
my lovely Princesses, my girls of gnarled gain
a wind storm of lovers' cries flies towards you
a punishment Holy in it's honor and horrible in It's hit,
bite you shall, sixfold from Humility's tit -

J.A.B.

Premium Member Spectors of Doom

War roars above
		~ a hemisphere
		gone coal  black, 
		blasted with skin
		~ned  ash,  soot 
		~scores the  sky 
and   rubble roils; blood  can not travel on the
wind.  Lines cross,   posts cross,   peace  cru~
cified.  Food  thought,  wry humor  displayed
in fields  of grain from sea to sea.  Commun~
		nication   cut-off
		deafened by  the
		omnipresent gale.
		Fenced in safety 
		a jest. The gold~
		en fuel, isolation
		will not save us.
		War roars above
		~ a hemisphere 
		gone coal black
		blasted with skin
		~ned ash,  soot
		scores the  sky
		and rubble  roils
		Blood can  not
		travel  the wind.


An Ekphastic written in the Shape Form

After: Gray and Gold by John Rogers Cox, 1943.

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