Horror. Poems - Poems about Horror.

7/14/2025 Oh, how could this have ever happened here? A free naton with baseball, movies and beer? Those days when other nations cry against...

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Hell smells on this nice land Land where there is severe killing Killing of innocent people People hating their neighbors Neighbors with grudge Grudge against everything Everything has decayed. Decayed, as morals are in danger Danger of living on this land Land with endless fire Fire from the morning until in the evening Evening, when death squadrons chop and shoot Shoot and set ablaze fellow...

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She knocks on my rib cage seeking access to my heart again The knock—the pounding pestle— taunts, its echo won’t stand to be ignored I hold my knees and cover my ears as if that’ll keep my walls untampered I let my flesh wrap me whole— so tight I might suffocate, but I cannot breathe outside this prison, no—this haven She’s still...

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She walked towards me, I never had a sister by blood. Maybe that was about to change. Blood was all over her as she walked towards me. It seemed like I already knew her. She is from another time, I must have met her somewhere. Familiarity permeated my mind. Blood was all over her, still I wasn’t the least bit fearful. In this moment I’m...

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A treasure untreasured, abandoned and forgot In a darkened closet much like a burial plot Misremembered kisses, hugs no longer felt Twisting into bitterness, where lonesome dwelt Memories wrapped in soft stuffing Threadbare keepsake suffering Cracked plastic smile full of secrets A slow darkening uniqueness Awakened within static button eyes And malevolent intent began to arise Replacing the love long since perished Within the toy once...

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A couple soon to be said newly wed, yet swiftly snuck behind the family’s back to swear the vow inside th’old shack, quick forgot’n, buried a secret dread; A reek awaftin’ out a country shed left long and fast behind by Spring-heeled Jack, the stench o’ rot stinkin’ from a sack discovers a soiled corpse ‘n’a mangled head; Well…, they ‘was a...

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The gossamer on a child’s frame, looked new and ancient, all at once. A ghostly smile, a trick and treat, directed at me. No wrinkles on the hand of time, his godforsaken finger pointed at the stabbed pigeon. I followed the tracks of blood down to the river. I seemed to have no choice, in this misty sequence. A grief-stricken...

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Khaled was a bodybuilding champ in Iran A photo shows a smiling and very strong man Then in Evin Prison, at the mercy of nasty folk His spine fractured, kidneys failed, heart was harmed, leg was broke. Evin is a bad place, 113 degrees and no A.C. I'm sure you can think of better places to be One woman tells us...

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I hear voices in my head, I touch pain On every television Except the typical symbols Of hegemony Except in a white building Miles and miles away, I touch pain! For every leaf that falls, Swallowed by the burning hell From the mighty birds Of weird names F 16, F 35... I hear these voices, We hear these voices - Miles away, node in unison, "The world...

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Can AI produce a real poet? Can a robot really care? You may or may not know it, but AI's sitting in your chair....

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who's got a tourniquet? the world bleeds out of her limb. she's anemic. the ship of world peace has sailed; existential chaos reigns supreme. recourse to arms now the go-to solution for nations at loggerheads. bellicose, sanguinary; they're way past handshakes. who's got a tourniquet? ...

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Jill Nando hosted "Crimewatch" a TV show She was shot dead, who did it we don't know. Lot of cases not solved, not even all crimes known Keep a low profile or enter a danger zone. Plutonium was found in Karen Silkwood's refrigerator She was a whistleblower, did her company hate her? She died a few days later in a fatal...

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it’s the groaning, spoken a feeling, bleeding, bruising remembering the broken silence in the heart who’s losing it’s the story, unfolding dark as a shadow, stolen by the ghostly, scolding even my breath is swollen it’s the distance between hope and the futility of grave doubting oh, if only I knew how to cope how my soul is shouting! it’s the color, gray and bleak too weary for...

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At midnight, deep beneath D.C.'s pride, A tunnel breathed secrets the daylight hides. Pennsylvania Avenue—so clean, so grand— But under its bones lies a cursed land. Dark suits walk halls soaked in red, A velvet silence where the truth lies dead. The walls pulse with symbols from ages old, Carved by hands both cruel and cold. Fridges hum like funeral songs, Storing innocence stolen...

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screams echo in the dark rich sweat floods train turns bumpy grab each other’s tight hugs my shoe- on his face, mouth ...

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