Best Haunted Poems
The Haunted House
Driving with my date at midnight, looking at the August moonlight,
lonely road, no one in eyesight, searching for a place to park.
Off the road a mansion ‘pearing, in the woods, back in a clearing,
all alone this mansion fearing, stands deserted in the dark…
the mansion stands there in the dark.
Vacant now for many ages, rotting as her time turns pages,
legend of her haunting rages, haunting ghosts that oversee.
Eerie winds around are blowing, in the window soft light glowing,
curiosity is growing, soft light beckons us to see…
the soft light calls for us to see.
Feel like we are strangers poaching, on this haunted house encroaching,
front porch creaks as we’re approaching, and the front door open wide.
Through the door now we are heading, on the inside odor shedding,
musty air with dust is spreading, leaving us red blurry eyed…
the dust makes us red blurry eyed.
In our ears there is a droning, down the hall we hear a moaning,
sounding like an old man groaning, leaving us to wonder why.
Down the hallway we go searching, knowing not what evil lurching,
through the door we see there perching, skeleton from days gone by…
bones sitting there from days gone by.
On the floor there is blood pooling, ‘neath the ashen bones so grueling,
such an eerie sight befooling, tell my date to turn and run.
Chasing close behind I follow, for this fear I cannot swallow,
felling like my life is hollow, thinking that my time is done…
I’m feeling like my days are done.
Wake up in a forest clearing, in the sky, sunlight appearing,
from the night my mind is veering, how I got here I don’t know.
Leaving now my gut is churning, don’t think I will be returning,
evil place my mind discerning, wrought with spirits from below…
the evil spirits from below…..
this haunted house has got to go.
August 18, 2018
The family had just moved into an old castle in Scotland;
mother, father and their only daughter, Emmie, that they loved so deeply.
Emmie was only 12 years old, and so innocent and beautiful.
One night, she was woken up by a dripping sound;
an echoing sound of water drops in a sink;
rhythmic and terrifying.
She sat on her bed, and suddenly appeared a free floating arc of strange light.
It's that time of year again: Halloween night.
Doors flew open and shut; strange voices and footsteps started.
She was so frightened, that she almost threw up.
Emmie made the sign of the cross, and plunged into a thicket of thorny wild roses.
Terrified, excited and ready to run out of the house in 20 seconds,
she overheard whispering words: "All beauty must die."
The voice was so deathly, that it sent chills through her spine.
It did not make it any better that it sounded too close to her ears.
Her nightdress being torn by rose thorns like papers in a paper shredder,
she ran as fast as she could; not back to the old castle,
but away from the creepy voice, and strange events
in the old castle.
Exhausted, she searched for a place she could find rest
"All beauty must die" the voice visited
her unceremoniously once more. "What do you want from me?
Is it wrong to be born beautiful? "
she asked, wondering where she got her courage from.
The energy to scream or run departed her,
the moment she saw a woman dressed in white,
levitating in the air, and moving towards her;
a horrid face that carried the night's darkness,
looked decayed, with worms crawling out from it.
Remember this is a true story about Emmie;
she gets chills just remembering the events of that night……
Contest: Halloween Co-Writes, By Diane Locksley
Poem Written by: Teddy Kimathi and Anne-Lise Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Steps in -
What din!
Rat squeaks
Floor creaks
Let loose,
Ghost boos
Blood Pool -
Bats drool!
Strobe lights,
Snake bites
Suspense -
Live Fence!
Zombie -
Crombie*
Cat's eyes -
On mice
Closed space,
Lined face
Blue slime,
Red grime
Skulls stare -
BEWARE
Quiver,
Shiver!
Loud cry...
Mouth dry
Our horde
Spots board: ....
Your end,
My friend
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A hole in the head shooting pain trembles
nightshades coldly down the spine
a soul lost in the land of the living
carried away in darkness
flying inside dark clouds holding just a dream
Distant thunder roars lightening splitting cracks
sure as the crow flies crawling opens Hell's gates
dark jewels of the night
charred remains churning in a cauldron
boiling goodness tears of thoughts
Piercing screams spawning nightmares
holding a promise once made
walking in a valley amongst the dead
shadows now smile hearing animals scream
as the moon plays silver dancing light
Dreams snatched away from reality
the crow calls echoes in silence
victims of this world howling over and back
tragedy cries in their pain and suffering
eyes seeking light
whispers through the branches
a heather bleat creature of the night calls
Haunted by humans chained to the earth
awaiting shadows and sunsets
a cursed banshee wails supernatural screams
from everywhere and nowhere
Mind numbing winds passing through
a white silhouette shredded shroud
around a heart entombed
in agonies' twilight shades clouds darken
storms brewed stirring specters chase the wind
Cold rains become lost tears
the willow weeps in eternal sorrows
a lament for the dead
as the silver crescent moon smiles goodbye
Blends in clear as day after sunrise
forgotten in a valley of unrest
death bell's toll out from the past
onyx feathered crows call painful cries
Forever seeking heaven's gate now sealed
that promised choice was lost ages ago
only burning Hell fires
or cold earthworms await
Written by: Liam McDaid & Kelly Deschler
The Haunted House
An aging Victorian graphite three story house sat on a
promontory, lonely, deserted, weathered and forlorn.
Broken windows showed signs of cruel abuse from
passersby amused by throwing rocks we surmised.
This skeletal shell of a one-time elegant beauty
became a welcome refuge for my sister and I, wet
and chilled to the bone on that stormy autumn night.
Our car had broken down about two miles away.
There were no other homes or buildings nearby.
To our amazement the door was open and after
knocking loudly with no answer, we let ourselves in.
Cobwebs clung to our faces and hair as we entered
and brushed them away squeeling disdainfully.
I had a small torch on my keychain and with it we looked
around to try to find something to dry ourselves off.
We moved in unison across the creaking floor, shivering.
It was then that I felt cold fingers grasp my shoulder.
Wide eyed I slowly turned my head but no one was there.
We both heard errie laughter as chills ran down our spines.
We ran to the door but now it was locked and we were
trapped inside as panic set in with our hearts pounding.
Then all of a sudden two creatures appeared before us
standing there with matted hair and we both screamed
so loudly we scared each other, but with my little light I
could see we were looking at ourselves in a full length
dusty antique mirror. We laughed hysterically in pure relief.
I tried my cell phone again and miraculously got a signal.
I managed to contact the auto club who estimated 2 hours.
We waited impatiently until the auto club came to rescue
us and our car. The driver sat outside and honked his horn.
We screamed to him that we were trapped inside. He came
up to the front door and to our shock the door flew open.
We hurridly left that haunted house and never looked back
as the driver quickly drove away in the pouring rain.
8-27-18
Sponsor- Dear Heart
Contest- The Haunted House
I will never ever forget
that haunted look
in her huge blue eyes
She was only four years old ...
an innocent child
who witnessed her beloved daddy
fall to the floor and die
After the trauma of his death
she never spoke another word
Written for Haunted Contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin
Sadly this a true story of a little girl called Jacqueline who attended the pre-school I worked in, even after all these years I have never forgotten the haunted look in her eyes.
9/26/19
I missed a blind corner one grim stormy night,
On a dark forest road, with no phone.
The crash was severe, but what gave me more fright
Was I had to walk out all alone.
A mile, maybe two, and there loomed into view
An imposing stone manor, quite old.
I felt somewhat spooked, but I guessed it would do
For relief from the drizzle and cold.
Despite my loud knocking I heard no reply,
Though some embers from somewhere glowed red.
The door opened wide when I gave it a try,
And its groan somehow filled me with dread.
I crept toward the flickering warmth where I found
A mere wisp of a man in a chair,
So pale in appearance he hardly seemed sound—
Like a shadow that’s only half-there.
I saw he was napping and hadn’t a clue,
So decided to give him a tap,
But to my amazement, my fingers went through
His left arm and right down to his lap!
I gasped in sheer horror and rushed out the door,
Though I never before had believed
In spirits or hauntings or vampiric lore,
So I wondered if I’d been deceived.
This mystery troubled me long years ago,
But I now understand it: you see,
That car wreck I mentioned was fatal, and so...
The ghost wasn’t him; it was me.
---
Date Written: January 16, 2019
Contest: One Night in a Haunted Manor, sponsored by Tania Kitchin
It stood there
looking empty and old,
neglected and sad
with windows shuttered,
covered in shadow
both day and night,
hovered over
by trees whose branches
disguised the house
and made it seem
a part of the
overgrown landscape,
completely surrounding it,
keeping strangers and unawares
at bay.
It stood there
shrinking from the present
almost lifeless,
a house with no soul
no face, no breath,
as if it started out as a ruin
and was determined
to remain so for all time,
unwanted, unkempt,
shunned by passersby,
its roof looking tortured
its doors uncertain
as to whether they opened at all
and no one knew
and no one asked.
It stood there
talking to itself
in a silent conversation
that no one heard,
talking about things
that used to be
as though the Past was in the Now
and the Now belonged to the Past,
and who would dare
to knock on its doors
or tap on its windows
to see if anyone would answer
or show their presence
to the world outside,
a world gone by.
I stood there
on many a night
along the side of the road
just endlessly peering
at this lonely old place
wondering, waiting
for a light inside
to be turned on
at the same appointed time
emanating from behind
heavy and yellowed lace curtains
that looked like tattered spider webs
in only one crooked window
and one window only
hung with spidery lace.
I stood there
on those moonlit nights
bewitched by this house
listening to calls
and breaths of wild things
that roamed all around me
under ink-black star-filled skies,
but no light from moon nor star
could illumine
this clapboard-covered curio
from another day and age
concealed by branches, vines
and bramble,
bushes and nettles
and mystery.
I stood there
wondering
who turned on that only light,
who roamed the house by night
who walked its tilted floors
who locked its uncertain doors
who hung the curtains of lace
who built this unsettling place
who called this abode their home
and how many hallways would they roam
and are there secrets that lived inside
and what was the bramble trying to hide,
was there anything for it to reveal
anything for it to tell
this house haunted that knew me so well?
copyright © 2019 Gregory Firlotte
I’m haunted by these things from long ago;
mistakes that from the past I now regret;
these blunders of my youth that I now know,
and wish that I could change, but it’s too late;
and on my mind it’s like a heavy weight;
these haunting things which now I can’t forget.
It’s said that from our past mistakes we learn,
and that this knowledge soon will ease the blow,
and from this error we will then discern
to do things right, and soon our dreams fulfill.
We benefit from our mistakes, and still
I’m haunted by these things from long ago.
April 2, 2018
Dare not rove in the woods on Halloween
There are witches there who are best not seen
They tempt one with brew that resembles stew
Truth is what goes in the brew’s not for you.
They put in chewed bones from fingers and toes
What they consider gravy, no one knows
Avoid the brew or you'll blow up and bust
Ending up becoming a cloud of dust.
Stay alert for ghosts and ghouls, one must do
They're out to frighten the life out of you
Never accept a trick or treat from them
A trick is a prick from a toxic pen.
A treat is a sweet one should not dare eat
They are made from remains of frogs webbed feet
One would then croak and jump for evermore
Take this advice, stay behind your locked door.
There is a place I will not trend nor will Angels least attend,
Where witches mix their brew and the warlocks let it spew…
All spiders on the walls keeping busy with their creepy crawls,
Wolves howling at the moon dancing darkness in their commune…
Beware evil spells incantation as you turn to stone upon creation,
The Ghosts there that reside spooking the halls no place to hide…
Vampires that wake the night are happy to see you before they bite,
Footsteps that never ceased echoing eternal of the family’s deceased…
Gremlins and goblins in their yearn watching bodies as they burn,
Demons dancing in their dine macabre merrymaking in their wine…
The serpents serve their deeds within the silence as Satan seeds,
Frankenstein wakes in his den reading stories of the haunted pen.
Sept.26.2019
Haunted Poetry
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
Placed 3'rd...Thank You
The Haunted House
‘Room to Let’ the signage read,
and though it looked run down,
I’d found no other place to stay
since I was new in town.
When I knocked upon the door,
a voice called out, “Please enter.”
“Hello,” I answered in reply.
“I’d like to be your renter.”
A lovely woman greeted me.
She had a toothy smile.
“It’s nice to have the company.
It’s been dead here for a while.”
Outside a wicked wind blew forth.
The front door slammed with a crash.
Just as quickly every window
fell down in their sash.
“I guess a storm’s a-brewing,” I said,
covered in bone-chilling sweat.
“Let me show you to your room.”
replied the shapely tall brunette.
“Some steps here may be rotten,” she warned.
“I urge you to beware.”
Moaning fell with every step
as we climbed the creaky stairs.
The room she showed me looked quite sparse.
Inside was just one coffin.
“Please excuse the dust,” she said,
“I don’t come in here often.”
She wiped away the cobwebs
once we got inside the room.
“It really is quite cozy here.”
Then pointed out the tomb.
“If you like the chamber,
I suggest we both get started.
No other soul will bother us,
They have all departed.”
I laid inside the casket.
It was a perfect fit.
“I believe I could be comfy here,”
I hastened to admit.
“No one here will vex you,”
She signaled with a wave.
“You will find this haunted house of mine
as silent as the grave.”
“I’ll need a small deposit,” she said.
Then, bent and bit my neck.
As she sipped away I asked,
“Do you take traveler’s checks?”
“I’ll take this as collateral.”
She said after she drank.
“There’s no need for money here,
I have my own blood bank.”
August 17, 2018
Sponsor- Dear Heart
Contest- The Haunted House
Title your poem - The Haunted House
Luna's specter glows
Gazing at her reflection
In the black night sea
Inspired by Raul's "Reflections" contest
A hole in the head shooting pain trembles
nightshades coldly down the spine
a soul lost in the land of the living
carried away in darkness
flying inside dark clouds holding just a dream
Distant thunder roars lightening splitting cracks
sure as the crow flies crawling opens hells gates
dark jewels of the night
charred remains churning in a cauldron
boiling goodness tears of thoughts
Piercing screams spawning nightmares
holding a promise once made
walking in a valley amongst the dead
shadows now smile hearing animals scream
as the moon plays silver dancing light
Dreams snatched away from reality
the crow calls echoes in silence
victims of this world howling over and back
tragedy cries in their pain and suffering
eyes seeking light
whispers through the branches
a heather bleat creature of the night calls
Haunted by humans chained to the earth
awaiting shadows and sunsets
a cursed banshee wails supernatural screams
from everywhere and nowhere
Mind numbing winds passing through
a white silhouette shredded shroud
around a heart entombed
in agonies' twilight shades clouds darken
storms brewed stirring specters chase the wind
Cold rains become lost tears
the willow weeps in eternal sorrows
a lament for the dead
as the silver crescent moon smiles goodbye
Blends in clear as day after sunrise
forgotten in a valley of unrest
death bell's toll out from the past
onyx feathered crows call painful cries
Forever seeking heaven's gate now sealed
that promised choice was lost ages ago
only burning hellfires
or cold earthworms await
Written by: Liam McDaid & Kelly Deschler
In the night's chilling air a phantom figure, drags itself from
The watery edge of the river bank, emerging, rising upward
From beneath the moonlight's illumination, she is free, to walk
The earth's spiritual plain of existence once more.
In soaked layers shifts, of tatters whiten lace, the corporeal
Image moves across the old chapel's courtyard.
Slowly this deaden heart of the betrayed, shuffles through
The fallen autumn leaves, crunching them under the weight, of
Her drenched wedding gown.
The haunted bride, carries a wilted bouquet of for-get-me-nots,
As she weeps, walking down the aisle of past regrets.
This virgin maiden, sounds a low mournful sobbing, that echoes
Against the marble ruins, of a dilapidated church steeple.
Lifting skeletal limbs, step by step, this bride of
Desolation climbs unto the threshold of condemnation.
Her wailing screams grow louder, and louder with each
Movements, begging, pleading for salvation's penitence.
But in the Lord's realm, the haunted bride has violated the sacred
Laws of God, so is she doomed for all eternity, to repeat her final,
Moments of life.
Wearing the veiled shroud of death, beauty's once fare,
Is nothing more than illusion's shadow vision of the forsaken.
A victim of abandonment's fall from grace, for consumed by
Sorrows pain, did she take her own life, in limbo she is the accursed.
Slowly descending in sheer remorse, her tears cascade
Downwards, staining the holy soil therein, her unkempt train
Trails behind this ivory phantom, with muddy green
Seaweed woven amongst the antique lace.
Cold watery waves crash against the murky shore,
A foreboding eerie mist lingers up top the rippling lake,
One last air's stale breathe she does inhale, as again life's
Essence leaves, become just exploding bubbles,
Popping at the water’s surface.
Here the haunted bride so does rest, in a fathom's aquatic crypt,
Beneath the dark abyss of no return.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN