Best Suspense Poems
Suspense is a thing worth not knowing
Dying for the knowledge of the mystery
From novice to brainiac ever flowing,
Slipping into the dark annals of history.
Shudders at the noise of victims’ crying
Suspense is a thing worth not knowing,
Keeping chilblains on the skin denying
Revealing information ne’er extolling.
Red herrings by the hundreds growing
In long heralded stories not so mastered
Suspense is a thing worth not knowing,
Fabled tales of untamed roguish bastards.
Best sellers from all leather anthologies
With black ravens and murderous crowing,
Translated to filmdom with no apologies
Suspense is a thing worth not knowing.
Written June 1, 2022
(This is something different. Playing around and having some creative fun. One word per line, three lines per stanza. What do you think? Tear it apart and share your thoughts, opinions and criticisms. Thanks)
Another
Work
Day
Alarm
Shower
Coffee
Husband
Wife
Goodbye
Driving
Car
Work
Neighbor
Wife
Bedroom
Coffee
Sex
Cigarettes
Forgetting
Husband
Laptop
Taking
Off-ramp
Next
Crawling
Traffic
Congested
Turning
Car
Around
Driving
Home
Again
Parking
Driveway
Home
Panicking
Wife
Disbelief
Hiding
Neighbor
Closet
Approaching
Husband
Door
Greets
Husband
Door
Kisses
Wife
Entry
Smelling
Husband
Cigarettes
Smoke
Wife
Doesn’t
Searching
Husband
Suspicious
Increasing
Husband
Anger
Backyard
Cigarettes
Found
Questioning
Husband
Livid
Denies
Wife
Tears
Investigating
House
Yelling
Following
Wife
Pleading
Searching
Bedroom
Threatening
Approaching
Husband
Closet
Intercepts
Husband
Wife
Pushing
Wife
Floor
Tearing
Wife
Hysterics
Opening
Husband
Closet
Standing
Neighbor
Closet
Pleading
Wife
Tears
Holding
Husband’s
Pistol
Trembling
Neighbor’s
Hands
Infuriated
Husband
Roars
BANG
BANG
BANG
Ringing
Ears
Smoke
Hysterical
Wife
Crying
Stumbling
Husband
Floor
Closing
Neighbor
Husband
One
Head
Shot
Pooling
Blood
Floor
Bleeding
Husband
Dead
Shot
Own
Gun
Sharing
Husband’s
Bed
Adultery
Wife
Whore
Coward
Neighbor
Murderer
Scarlet
Wife
Accessory
Awaits
Prison
Both
(Based on a true story. This happened a few blocks from my previous residence. I took some creative liberties with the story, names are fictional.)
Had a dream last night
spring has such beautiful dream...
I won't tell you!
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
© Joseph S. Spence, Sr., (Epulaeryu Master) 5/22/09
All Rights Reserved, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, USA
Senior Advisor, to Founder of Motivational Strips
Ambassador De Literature
Noble Star of Literature 2018
Living Legend of the 21st Century
Pentasiv B World Friendship Poetry Featured Poet 2019
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
Joseph S. Spence, Sr., is the author of "The Awakened One Poetics" (2009), which is
published in seven different languages. He invented the Epulaeryu poetry form, which
focuses on succulent cuisines and drinks. He is published in various forums, including the
World Haiku Association; Poetinis Druskininku, Milwaukee Area College, Phoenix Magazine;
Möbius Poetry, and Taj Mahal Review to name a few. Joseph is a Goodwill Ambassador for
the state of Arkansas, USA, a college faculty, and a military veteran.
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
Suspense by any other name
Would not hold the hold it does
It would not stop my beating heart
Or cause it to beat faster still
'Twas a Sunday extravaganza,
To eat dinner, watching Bonanza.
Hoss’s plight so intense,
That my state of suspense,
I cannot describe in one stanza!
Submitted : On A Lim Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
Submitted : 4/27/22
Television series: “Bonzana”
Result: Honorable mention.
Silhouette
Can you guess
Who?
* Placed 3rd in Brian Strand's contest, "Septimal Fun".
A hit and run of epic proportion The Easter conspiracy in motion The CIA FBI Interpol perplexed Who done it who will be next Scotland yard the challenge not met the Reg. The goose no longer lays the golden egg Public supply and demands satisfaction Who will it be it is up to you investigation Slow to the game the cards are on the the table The only glue you get a fable - for Lisa Cooper Poetessdarkly contest -Who murdered the Easter bunny? 3/5/2013
,Cover to Cover Fun,
Imagination soars
Immersed in suspenseful twists and turns of delight
Mind explores
Reading ignites
A spark that invites adventure
Insights
Galore
Magical worlds
Doors
Imagination soars
A spark that invites adventure
Doors
Submitting For: Let’s Minichu on Fun
Sponsor: Mohan Chutani
Date Written: 03-18-2022
In his weary hour
The legumes blossom on time;
Out of jocundity in honour
Of the beautiful turf
The drowsy peasant peak.
His weird blistered palm blimey,
His nasty regalia wretched,
He produces plenty and eats small
He produces good and eats bad
To the nobles he worked,
The dark noxious pest
Ravage and wrest
The peasant-shaddock
This tonic the dressy peasant
A nocturnal haunter.
This extempore task
Demoralizes his sinew
His swansong
Rhythmically envelops
In serenity and drone.
Each rising smoke
Nervous him to move.
This previous eyes
That know no peace
By the smiling scorching sun.
At the dark hour
He puts on his clogs
And marched to the farm shack
There he finds the beetles
On the yam.
The great anxiety of the peasant
Is the bragging fire of winter
He fasted to lull it
He became gaunt
The sturdy peasant.
The time unknown: the blazing fire
Burnt the bedecked bower
The ranch house and the lettuce
Barefooted staggered him
To the farm with his straw hat
And met the yelling ashes
The cracking twigs of cocoa plant
The peasant live no day
Longer than that and slept
A muffled sound,
alarmed my ears
sharpening the senses.
My feet found the ground
before I could ask,
hands risen avoid shadows.
I tiptoed my way
through the dark corridor
anxious to find the door.
It was closed,
but I could hear feet
bouncing on the bars.
First placed my hand
on the cold knob
trying my best to relax.
Though the pounding
of a heart echoed
through my brain.
I opened it wide
as silently as
I could tremble.
A dim light escaped
filling the small room
with a eerie gloom.
Her head shot up
her eyes widened
with unspoken relief.
Her hands held
towards me in
completely vulnerable.
She could see me,
knew help had come
to set her free.
Soon released a giggle,
no words yet
just infantile drivel.
The beautiful sound
of a magical morning
in all daily glory.
- as published in 2019 Havik - Las Positas College
We were both going to college.
Science class is where we both met,
I was astonished at his knowledge.
My thoughts of him more than friends,
as some girls eyed him with his letter-man sweatshirt.
He was tall and looked so handsome.
When the day's classes were over,
he would walk me to my car.
Sweet dreams of him I yearn to be my lover.
He had a way of setting a forbidden fire within,
soft and warm, revealing beauty that lived
a resting place of a pure soul of sin.
He would press his head upon my neck
And would whisper," Would you."
Time ticked away, a kiss he would peck.
Just one little word, that's all I needed.
The prolonged suspense had taken its toll.
My words were heated as, “No!” I pleaded.
3/10/2023
Pick-A-Title, Vol 35 Poetry Contest 2. Prolonged Suspense
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Crystal clear whispers,
intuition guides my path-
In total suspense.
Horror Story.
Wife’s gone to bed, there’s a spooky sound
Still scared of the dark when no one’s around
I hear her snore in the room above,
A reassuring growl, is just enough
In the film a killer is stalking
All the lights off, no one’s talking
Turn on the lights, an involuntary scream
Has no affect on those in the scene
A glint of a knife, raised in a hand
Bet she regrets this one-night stand
I know, I know, it’s only acting
I could tell, the kind she’s attracting
I’d have given her really sound advice
Forget the murderer, find someone nice.
But no, he’s here, no is not the answer
She’s an undercover cop, not exotic dancer
The tables are turned, during the struggle
I sneak off to bed, give the wife a cuddle.
David Cox 17/02/23
No, no, I tell you, no
Do not go down there,
Turn back from the door
Step away from the stair
I cannot tell you, I can't
The secrets and the lies,
Because... it's too... dreadful
When a pretty thing dies
Yes, she was a pretty thing
But, should you see her now,
All gone and gray and sunken
O, I could not tell you how ...
Don't look, please do not
Well, the door is open a bit,
Peer inside, dare if you must
Do so without my permit
But, o, the sun, she must set
And another day be done ...
Then up jumps the silver moon
Now ... isn't darkness fun!
The cinnamon tea lover in me thrives
Hand-held book comes to a surprising end
Be careful reaching in the honey hives
Observing cruelty of the author’s bend
Suspense creeps in with tea and crumpets, dear,
And murder, mayhem, chaos, stirred right in
And lumps of sugar fuel our need to fear
So not to take a sip, would be a sin
That spot of tea with a delicious plot
Interesting characters, both good and bad
Protagonist fights her way to the top
It can drive your tea bags stark raving mad
Authors have that awful glint in their eyes
Because they do decide – who lives, who dies