Haunting Poems - Poems about Haunting

My terror grows with each passing night, As slow, steady darkness steals away sight. Footsteps and whispers add to my fright — Is there an end to such desperate plight? How long, too long, till dawn’s early light! I clutch my candle in trembling hand, And watch the shadows dance to understand What I envision as its light expands Through the room and...

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When I take off as a raven, the branch wobbles my dark figure melts into the night. No pack, no company aside from the starlights— they were once alive, but now all there’s left are fragments of tears from somewhere above, is it heaven? I wouldn’t know. Wearing shadow of night itself, I glide through the air. Beneath me, a city in neon fire. Cars rush below— one place...

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-In the dead of night, when the world is silent, her whispers haunt the shadows of my mind. “Daddy, I’m so tired… I don’t want to be here anymore.” Her small voice, trembling like a ghost, echoes in my heart — a chilling reminder of the fragile life we’re trying to hold together. Late at night, when silence drapes...

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I whispered your name into the bruise of the storm and it whispered back like it missed me too. Your voice— I remember it like warmth I no longer deserve. They keep telling me the sky is clearing, but I am rain. I am always rain. And when I tried to let you go, my fingers bled from the holding....

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It whispers low on midnight’s breath, A shadow wreathed in mist and death. Not born of grace, but spectral might, It haunts the veil 'tween dark and light. It stirs the winds, it bends the flame, A nameless force none dare to name. Through hollow halls, its echoes creep,...

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You’re in your spot again tonight. Although I can’t see you I know you’re there. A cold spot existing near naked firelight, I suppose it’d matter if I actually cared. Perhaps you blame me for being born. Perhaps I could be wrong. But either way if the intention is to fright you’ll be hanging around so...

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Breach the surface within, Feelings change, Cold hands always doubting me. Ceilings hang over me, Teach me to never break down, Sealing what’s shouting “release”. I was always a dove, These feelings of love, They’re what’re crowding me. I was only a dove, Those days I was young, Cold hands were holding onto me. I...

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Look at Me I don't feel sick, Yet something inside is twisted Not in body, but in the sap that shivers within. Are these petals not what you envisioned? Look at me. What did I do wrong? I sing the songs you taught me, My voice trembling a whisper against the wind Does its fragile tune echo your hidden sorrow? I grew as you...

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She sails where the bayou kisses the tide, a phantom queen with a mournful glide. The paddle churns, though no hands steer, and jazz floats faint on a breeze unclear. Her lanterns burn with a ghostly hue, casting gold on waters black and blue. No passengers board, no voices ring-- just whispers soft as a violin string. The captain’s hat is dust and...

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Is my sorrow real? Were we doomed… I’ll be damned if the questioning is my devotion. Though I never deviated, love only takes one of us. Love or lust… laughter, lies we shared Was I wrong?...

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The serpent hissed, on the first day of school, looking around to find a group to poison a group to fool. It's slitted eyes wandered around searching and searching. at last the serpent found, the fools laughing and smiling. The serpent went, its black heart beating with eagerness the smell of innocence. it was addicting. The fools invited the serpent with open arms unknowing of...

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I awoke early that morning to an unfamiliar familiar sound. I rose from the bed with cacophonous singing ringing in my ears, separated the curtains with the breast stroke of an Olympic swimmer, and opened the blinds to the on rush of time. Peering through the window of my three-story, lofty view of the world, there she was sitting on the nest aesthetically nestled...

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With silent dread beneath the sky, I tell the truth; I do not lie. In mortal coil, I often ask, What lies beyond this fragile mask? The clock ticks on, a steady beat, Uncertain path below my feet— Uncertain path below my feet... For those who have wandered, This way before, Who now are gone, are here no more, Do they laugh or cry or...

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The Trail of Tears was in men’s thoughts before 1492. Almost four-hundred years cleared the Cherokee-Selma path. Blood dries up like rain. Stains fade from red to black. Rainbows are present only in discarded kaleidoscopes. Czars scattered the seed of Lenin like talk in small town bars, Plowed under like wet fodder. Blood soaks in like rain. Stains fade from red to shallow,...

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Hello woe Haunting tune Beautiful flow Sung to the moon Hello sleep Does inspire Down in the deep Thoughtful fire Hello dawn Killing all here Now they are gone With something new to fear...

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