Best Spine Chilling Poems


Don'T Look Behind You

Don’t Look Behind You


From swamp I lifted from an arm
But collapsed to pitiful puddles
And ground my fist in slush
As I heard their voices
Drag at thus
And make of evil a cunning mist
Has me bewitched

Lost for all my will to do righteousness
Has led me astray in my ego wish
And left me bleating and bawling
Cowering and quivering
By the ancient grave
That made in secret

Chill, black as the imagination can make it
Seeps through every pore
And begins my desire to do its bidding
And what comfort there be
But
Murder
Most foul
Of stained and terrified blood
For mad men to feast upon

And still I cannot find my way from 
This spine chilling howl
And was it me in moonlight
Drenched in red
My reflection does not seem similar now
But my heart races
And lips drool
And my throat
Growls

Am I cursed 

The hairs on my arm on down my neck
Stand
But is it bristle they feel
For there is a scent of death and raw meat
In the air

I savour

Murder

In a bath of drooling slavering

Vein pumping

Slavering

Madness

Premium Member 'adjust and Move On'

Drowning in the knowledge
That change is inevitable
Afraid that your decision might backfire

What can be more spine-chilling?
Is the fact  
That not making the change will 
Lead you to a point of frustration
Discontentment 

In the end to stagnate is also a choice
It also has a consequence

©134315012015

The Dove

I stand here in this abandoned
church listening to the derelict
silence of the sombre ambience.
I look out of a shattered stain-glass
window, my mind has gone blank.
The bell rings sending an eerie
chime through the dust covered
room.
My heart is racing from the 
spine-chilling fear that suddenly
floods my body.
I look once more; a white 
dove sits peacefully on the 
window sill chirping its soft
song; tranquillity from deep
within a magical heart.
The bell rings once more,
it startles me,
I turn back to peer out of the
shattered window,
the dove was made from glass.


A Night Ride

One dark night takes me on a ride to an isolated hill where I inhale unpleasantness ..
Wide gleamy monstrous gate opens as the mighty wind blows,
creepy ferns crawl all over the floor.
Eerie garden awaits the lost lover's presence;
There stands a haunted home with a grubby porch at the entrance.
The magnanimous door welcomes me unwaveringly;
To the right there's slaughter hall polished with blood stains.
On the wall, hung portrait of a lady wearing a long red gown with a silver hat and a golden rosette stapled; 
Beside protruded, a yearning window decorated by cob webs;
To the left led staircase ,as I step on railing, it crackles like hatching eggs; Carefully I manage to reach the first floor and confronted a quiet room occupied by constant whispers & spine-chilling whimpers...I slowly move inside and envision nothing strange,but I feel something moist dripping on my cheeks from the roof above.
When I look up, the entire strong ceiling collapses,
disembodied spirit arises,floating on air,observes the decaying house from a distance.

14-7-2020

~Deepa. V~

First place in the contest:-)
Note: Decaying house Poetry Contest.
Sponsored by A Dear Heart(Constance)
© V. Deepa  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Phantom Phone Call

Phantom Phone Call

All Hallows Eve quickly approaches
With tales of crypts and ghostly coaches
When haunting spirits again roam
To sounds of chains and dirges of moans.

Amid this eerie spine-chilling time
Beloved mother prepares to die
Fragile link between Heaven and earth
Suddenly splits in her rebirth.

One final breath, one final sigh,
One final smile from her blue eyes
Now at midnight her spirit takes flight
Traveling light through darkest midnight.

The battle over – sweet warrior at rest
Home phone rings jarring mourning expressed
Familiar voice heard on the line – no trick -
“Child, this is your mother!”  Click…

10-8-21
Contest: Something Spooky 8-16 lines Poem
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin

The story is true story although timeframe has been altered.  After mom died our home phone rang. It was past midnight.  The voice on the other end of the line was mom’s voice.  The call untraceable.

Rhymes checked with RhymeZone

Mysterious Forest

Many things appear lost and hidden
but a certain light gives them life.
Twilight gives everything an opaque 
glow making it appear solid like stone.
Many sounds, both imaginary and genuine,
ricochet around the darkness creating 
fear and a sense of being gone astray.
Forests are found on either side,
both black and dead; all the
trees deformed into eerie formations,
each one seems to strangle another.
The owl holes seem to possess jagged teeth,
like a wild animal beholds.
Suddenly, the only light is provided by
a whole and bright moon; a wolf howls
in the distance.
Twilight has gone, everything appears
dead, even the moon is surrounded by
a few spine-chilling clouds.
Everything has gone silent; something
appears to move; leaves rustle raising
one’s hair.
Without warning, everything has gone black,
like a great darkness has engulfed one’s soul.
Sadly this is not so for one has become part
of the surrounding land, both dead and living.


The Debt Collector

His coffin was lowered deep into the ground,
they sprinkled cold earth, tears fell without sound.
From low in the grave echoed several loud knocks,
seemingly coming from under the box.
The mourners’ eyes widened, they turned tail and fled,
fearing such noise would awaken the dead.

The graveyard fell empty, the rapping returned,
now sorrow’s fresh roses lay withered and burned.
A guttural voice mocked ‘Knock knock dear departed,
I have come to complete the transaction we started’

‘What do you want?’a frail voice replied.
‘Please leave me in peace, I have only just died’

Malevolent laughter stagnated the breeze,
all earthly sounds suffocated with ease.
‘It seems you’ve forgotten the tryst that was planned
for the day your spent life was entombed in this land.
To pay for your years of excess and deceit,
you mortgaged your soul, I have the receipt.’

Amid cries for mercy, and spine chilling screams
the casket’s wood splintered as Satan slipped through the seams.

Sleepwalking Angel

Finally, my little girl is sound asleep
after multiple bedtime stories, I plea that she will not make a peep.

Hugging her favourite teddy bear ever so close
the blissful sight is as precious and delicate as a blossoming rose.

The soft murmurs of her magical breath console me.
At last, I can rest upon my alluring bed where I long to be.

Pleasurably my heavy head allows itself to fall,
every muscle in my body relaxes and my eyes begin to flutter as I stare at the wall.

All are contently safe and sound fast asleep,
unfortunately, this blissful peace shall not keep.

A spine chilling creek sends a booming echo throughout the hall,
my eyes flicker open while my mind wakes itself up to protect my all.

The distasteful racket continues to speed up my heartbeat,
distressed I grab a flashlight refusing painful utter defeat.

The flashlight sends a ray of a saviour into the pitch black hallway,
my sleep deprived eyes focus on the bright figure in dismay.

The sweet little angel before me moves forward using unimaginable stealth,
still softly snoring and babbling sweet nothings to herself.

I stare in amazement as she manoeuvres about the house with ease,
with loving open arms reached out in case she falls to my displease.

With little direction, my little star is directed back to her bed
where she shall have the dearest dreams play out in her head.

For the rest of the night, I lay awake longing to hear her creek,
constantly tiptoeing into her room to get a reassuring peek.

The sun eventually rises along with a bright smiling face,
she asks me how she slept and I pull her in for a tight embrace.

July 26, 2018

Sleepwalking Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Hamilton 

5th Place

A Strange Wedding Cake

Indeed, a strange wedding cake!
This is real strange, I must say. 
You must absolutely hear this, I pray.
Almond marzipan, on stands masked with black chocolate;
Candy laces and ribbons made its beautiful garbs.
I ponder; why in God’s name, eat all these carbs!
Seriously, are these black Fondant roses I see here? 
Quite an evolution from our traditional bride’s pie!
Well…what does this imply?
Dreading a wedding life with dark future
or does it symbolize breaking off with past lovers;
Invited surely to take the party's leftovers!
As the knife cut through innocent white,
dark jelly oozes out and trickles down the levels,
staining the spotless damask into perfect designs of devils!
Red marmalade takes its turn to flow down into rivulets.
The bride and the bridegroom poke a finger, each 
to share it and I hear a spine chilling screech…
All I see is their demoniac grin as I make it to the exit!


22/02/17
Contest 'Relishing cake' by Julia Ward
8th prize out of 10 - Glory
Judged 7/03/17

' Monsters, Among Us ... '

‘ Monsters, Among Us … ’

 Scatter The Creeping Vapor-Stench, Away
  Expose The Wake of  Eerie, Fog and Shadows
And Nightshade and Fiends, and Vile-Beasts That Bay
 Begone, to Taboo, Grounds, Unhallowed …

… for there Are Monsters, Among Us …
Yea, Also An Ancient Curse
We Don’t have To Make This Up …
… to Make It Any Worse …

Yea, There Are Blood Suckers, Self-Styled, Vampires            ( Vlad, The Impaler )
Who’ll Drink Your Blood by Starless, Night
Creatures, Who’ll Make You Suffer Their Desires
and Ghouls, Who’ll Dine On Your Flesh, in Daylight                 ( Jeffrey Dahmer )

Yea, There Are Creatures of The Dark
Who’ll Catch You, If You Do Not Know …                                ( Rapists )
They Want To Get Inside Of Your Heart
And Make You Do Acts, Foul, Fraught with Woes

Yea, There Are Monsters, Among Us …
Merciless, Malevolent, Maniacal Monstrosities …                       ( Hitler )
They Do, Indeed, Want To Own Your Soul, Because                 ( Jim Jones )
They Want To Make You Commit, Their Atrocities ! …               ( Charles Manson )

And If You Walk Around Unwary
Doesn’t Matter, If Its Not, Stroke Of Midnight
… Anytime, Is Their Time, To Do Scary
Spine-Chilling Screams of Your Unending, Pitch-Black Fright …

Rituals To Silver and Golden Idols                                          ( Slaving For Riches)
Making A Virgin Sacrifice -                                                     ( Child Molestation )
Hexes and Voodoo Dolls
and All Such Abominations To The Christ …

… Now, by a Long Shot, I’m Not Pious
(‘Cause I Too, Like A Good Thrill !)
Just, Don’t Make The Mistake-Serious
By Thinking Wickedness, Isn’t Real !

And Humans, Please Be Aware
Evil Incarnate, Isn’t Just A Movie Theme …
It’s More Than Just A Joking Scare
… There ‘ Is’ A Wicked Scheme

(and there ‘Is’ A Wicked Being)

So, If You Find, You’re Chased or Caught
By Some Monster In A Living-Nightmare
Remember, No Potion, Amulet, Nor Incantation Taught 
Brings Almighty Help, Better Than Holy Prayer

Yea, There Are Monsters, Among Us …
Yea … Also, An Ancient Curse
(and We Couldn’t Even Invent The Stuff
to Make It Any Worse ! ) …

Capsulated

Invariable measures find me concluded with torment. 
Crystallized reflections peripherally surpass imaginations advent.

Crackling blisters intern vivid arbitration, as if to teach spine-chilling lessons. 
Collapse goes hostage lungs, held up and recorded in air gasping sessions. 

Constant ringing beneath definitions light concealed bag piped eye shadows haunting address.
All occurs timed perfectly for surprise panic attacks; choking on nothingness. 

White vaporous visuals infiltrate what sight left remains. 
Useless kicking and screaming ended then when normalcy fathomed midst windowed pains. 

Feelings numb agony crippled sightless time; acoustic sound walls burrow. 
Vines manifest scandalous intent, my surrounded record beckons such growth still; you expect me to feel sorrow. 


12/09/16

I Remember When

What happened to all the honey bees
That used to swarm all around and abound
And would cover the fruit and holly trees
Now, you rarely see them buzzing around?

Where have the huge flocks of blackbirds gone
That I recall who would blacken the sky
And bruise your ears with the shrill of their song
In the spring and fall as they flew by?

What happened to all those water frogs
That I recall whose deep rhythmic bellows
Would echo back down through the hollow bogs
All summer until the leaves turned yellow?

What happened to the little horned toads
That I would catch for a pet as a boy
That crawled all over the fields and dirt roads
And made a neat little pet to enjoy?

Why doesn't the wolf still split the night
And chill my heart with his long lonesome cry
As he howls away at the full moon's light
Adoring the illuminated sky?

Where are all the calls of the bob white
And the lonely calls of the whippoorwill
That used to pine away all through the night
And could be heard in almost every field?

Where are the spine chilling panther screams
That mimicked some poor damsel in peril 
And would often conjure up awful dreams
Of gruesome creatures wicked and feral?

Are they on a premature path into yore
Has adequate time been duly assigned
For us to say, "There are no more...."
Or could it be, I've just outlived my time?


                                Timothy I. Brumley

Screams and Groans

By Kerinth Campbell

Ahhhhhhhhh!

Nerve shattering
Spine chilling
Teeth chattering
Feet unwilling.

High pitched
Ghoulish delight
Screams!
More screams
In the foreboding night

Low and ominous
Rising moans
Screams!
Inhuman baleful groans

Cackling, evil
Gleeful pleasure
Groans
Moans
Screams 
Without measure

To a crescendo
Lowering to a suspense
Rising
Rising
Rising
Building up again

Ahhhhhhhhh!

Blood Shadow

The sky is now dark,
nothing but the moon and
stars provide a source of light.
Everything appears still as
though life has been consumed
by a creature of uncouth nature.
The ground is bare, not even a
rat scuttles across the muddy
path.
A wolf howls in the distance
disturbing the spine-chilling
silence.
Nothing moves and nothing seems
to live in this once bright
town.
Slowly a shadow grows from
the depths of hell, like 
an obscure plant growing from
the dry soil.
It slithers like a snake along
the muddy path in search of a
innocent life form to feed
upon, fuelling its unbeating heart.
Suddenly it strikes with almighty
strength, latching on to the purest
of skin.
Slowly blood pours down its once
dry throat creating pleasure
of unimaginable intensity.
Its victim struggles endlessly,
fighting for dear life but its
efforts are futile for life has
been drained from within its
pitiful body, now grey
and sombre.
Another life has been taken
leaving nothing but an empty
shell upon the muddy path,
the hunger has been quenched
but until the next time the
veil of darkness drops the
shadow will return from the
depths of hell.

My Angel

The Sun is setting and I
am still waiting on that
one thing to appear at
my door – love.
Time passes almost slyly
and thus my patience is
ebbing, like a river coming
to a stand-still in the freezing
cold winter where ice crystals
form.
The bell chimes a spine-chilling
sound making me jump and run
towards the source, curious to
find out the cause.
I turn a key that shines brightly
and there you are, my angel, standing
in front of me giving a heart warming
smile; your eyes shimmer like stars.
My heart beats almost hungrily wishing
for your hands to touch my virgin skin.
My mind is racing not knowing what to do 
but still I invite you in wondering what
will happen next.
Time seems to stop with every word
you speak, they enter my ears like
tranquil music.
Suddenly we embrace releasing
love and affection in to the
once lonely air.
Waves of pleasure surround
our bodies like water in
the sea crashing against
cliffs.
We become one in this once
dark and lonely place;
love servers the tie between
our once long forgotten souls.
For you, my angel, are my
one true source of comfort
and serenity.

Dedicated to:  Stuart Patrick

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