Horror. Poems - Poems about Horror.

Nick was hurt one bright morn Strokes hit his brain stem, connections were torn They carried him off the rugby field Horror began and an old world was sealed It looked like a coma, but that was a disguise He could only converse by blinking his eyes Locked in, his body would not respond With the outside world, a broken bond. Anger flared,...

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It started as a whisper, faint, A voice that slithered through my brain. Not my own, but just as clear, A presence lurking ever near. At first, a shudder down my spine, A fleeting thought that wasn’t mine. Hands that moved without command, Footsteps shifting in the sand....

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there's little sunshine these days, and despair blows like a cold wind. It rains, and rains, and rains. state of affairs go...

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“The octopus’ tender tentacles tinkled like pomegranate bells ---" Cut, Cut Cut! What the 'H' are you talking about? ‘Tender tentacles of an octopus tinkling.’ Have you gone mad, Max? ...

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We cured death on a Tuesday, launched the trial on a Thursday, by Friday, 14% of the test group was gnawing on the janitorial staff. Still, the press was kind. “Remarkable resilience,” they wrote, as Unit 42A chewed through its restraints, and tried to bite a cameraman. We called them SoulSavers™, engineered for eternal youth, a proprietary blend of nanites, CRISPR, and just a dash of...

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And they would strut around the fire Then sat upon their stools, And argued long, in learned terms, Who wore the better jewels! But then there was a man about Who none had seen before, And though he wore a gentle face, They felt a gentle horror. For he did not dance around the fire Or strut about like fools, Nor did he argue who...

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A tyrant, though he’s feared, he also fears: A symmetry of horror unites them all. Unleashed, a dragon that forever nears, And he, as all the rest, it soon may maul. A tyrant rides a tiger, yet he knows It is not love that keeps him in that place; And that which comes, it just as swiftly goes; The claws of retribution...

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Horror-stricken and struggling in pools of cold sweat… ghost of Frankenstein ...

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Why do you haunt me dear cousin of mine ...

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Eventually got my final sleep tapping my soul miles deep. Drift into the dream unknown, where the mysteries of the past are sown. Can't withstand the view I saw, grasping my chest as regret claws. My head thrashed wildly to and fro, the storm of dread began to grow. Mustered the courage, I rolled my fear like a worn-out sleeve, The shadows whispered, begged...

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moon … beams that burn - that turn my surgings to slag my teeth to serrations, hungering … can those silly sentients not see the verity in my veneration, you? do they truly think it’s only art, only … verse? that my blood runs in these inky scratchings alone? ‘why pen these dark tales with such legitimacy - such … clear scope?’ oh … why, indeed! for were...

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this world, connected by signals cell phones, towers impregnated by vibrations mild colors, flames rising from the hopes hues stolen by the edges of a heart, who hears the wind in the trees, the struggle the need of raindrops, poignant stroking the last of the moments before Helene spoke her war with creation a war that left time off its foundation –...

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Portraits of hedgehogs on his grimy tiled walls Pete did for good taste what heat does for snow balls Though a weird kind of charm lay on his carpeted floor ...

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The democratic West opts for the collective mind in thrall to the tenor of the time But terrorism unchecked ‘s’ always a losing bet ...

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We came not for conquest, but for containment— though conquest is what happens when containment itches beneath the skin like sulfur spores in a sealed lung. They had the secret. Not gold, not weapons, not prophecy— but language that healed. Real language— not poetry, not prayer, but syntax of cells. Their infants spoke in codons. Their trees rustled in protein sequences. Their dead decomposed into algorithms that rewrote the...

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