Long Murder mystery Poems
Long Murder mystery Poems. Below are the most popular long Murder mystery by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Murder mystery poems by poem length and keyword.
In the cozy inn by the fire's warm glow
Lies a woman's body, lifeless and cold
Her hair splayed out, like flames in the hearth
But no fire could warm her, not even in death
The guests all gather, hushed whispers abound
As they try to make sense of this tragedy profound
Who could have done such a heinous crime?
In this peaceful place, where we come to unwind
Was it the lover she spurned, in a fit of rage?
Or a stranger passing by, with demons to wage?
Perhaps it was someone she thought she could trust
But now she lies broken, her body just dust
The cozy inn is no longer so warm
For the chill of death now lingers and harms
The memories we had of laughter and cheer
Are now tainted with blood and filled with fear
So let us remember this tragic night
When murder came calling at the cozy inn's site
And may we find solace in the warmth of our kin
For life is fleeting, but love will always win.
Steam Train Troubles
Percival the steward of the train
Ordered foie gras and oysters too
But left them on the station platform like a fool
Wealthy customers will find this rather tedious
Trips from Switzerland to Germany can be quite mundane
There is plenty of coal though to keep the engine going
Steaming over rail and snow
Not too many murders are expected this go round
Business is much slower this time of year
Train travel lost its luster over time and customers as well
It is quieter with poorer clientele around
A handful of rich still occupy first class
Hang out about the open bar up there
Mr. Smith forgot his ticket
His wife is having an affair with Percival
The conductor wants them both arrested
For their blatant misconduct most unpleasant
Guns come out inside a tunnel entrance
Train covered sights and sounds inside the cab in there
When it exited, Percival was dead
Natural causes were to blame
With a bullet in his brain
Hundred dollar bills were scooped up from the floor
By witnesses who saw nothing but the trees outside
Steam engine rolled along the tracks as usual
Taking truth and reason with it through the snow
Created on 1/14/15 for Shadow Hamilton - “Railway Journeys” Poetry Contest
Every day on my shore walk, I walk by a beautiful old dilapidated Victorian Inn
It’s been vacant for many years since a rumored double murder happened within
Today, oddly, I notice a light on inside as I cautiously walk to the front door
I enter the inn and see the ghost of an old Sea Captain, as I pass out on the floor
I come to, feeling foolish, as a fluffy tom cat starts purring and licking my face
Until I hear the old Sea Captain tell me my room is ready to stay at his place
8/29/19
Contest: Halloween Fright Night
Sponsor: Carolyn Devonshire
Contest: Writing Challenge 3, August 2019 - Six Lines
Sponsor: Dear Heart- Wiishkobi Ode
Who killed little JonBenet?
And who placed her where she lay?
“Don’t accuse poor poor me,
I’m not a monster” said Patsy,
but now that mother
and child are gone
questions remain about Patsy and John.
The cops suspect who and why
this beautiful little girl had to die.
“O what must you think of me?
I didn’t kill her” said Patsy.
“Please! Please! Believe me,
how could I do it?” said Patsy.
“She was my sweet
darling little girl,
a beauty queen to dance and twirl.
Her short life was mine to save
but now she lies in her grave.
No, it wasn’t me, it wasn’t me,
I didn’t kill her” said Patsy.
“This can’t be, it wasn’t me,
and I’m sticking to my story.
No, I won’t confess
and do the time,
I did not commit this heinous crime.
I didn’t write the ransom note
that a killer’s hand coldly wrote.
I wouldn’t do it, it wasn’t me,
I didn’t kill her” said Patsy.
“No stranger did this to me”
would say JonBenet Ramsey.
“I was kissed goodnight
and put to bed
then taken in the night and left for dead”.
Was it the mother to JonBenet
who gave her life and took it away?
Or does a grim tale of murder lurk
alas in John or brother, Burke?
Written: November 2015
Riverside Highway
Hampton City
September, 25, 2016
8:00 a.m.
Detective Sparkly drove to the intersection of Riverside Highway to visit Christie's mansion. Jaron's son, Gerald, was talking with his sister Christie. Detective Sparkly will interview both of how was their relationship with Jaron. Detective Sparkly arrived at the mansion at 10:00 a.m. The gate that leads to the mansion was a long path. Christie and Gerald were waiting for Detective Sparkly.
Detective Sparkly introduced himself to Christie and Gerald. He told them Tarlene contracted him to investigate Jaron's death. Christie said that Jaron divorced from her mother Tracey, when she and her brother Gerald were in their teens. They did not have a lot of communication with Jaron. Recently, Jaron contacted Christie to visit her. He never showed up to Christie's mansion. It was at the night of the crime.
Detective Sparkly said good bye to Christie and Gerald and left the mansion. He will return to JSS building to interview Tracey. She was one of the members of the Board of Directors of JSS. At 1:00 p.m. Sparkly arrived to JSS building. He interviewed Tracey. She was a fifty five years old, blonde hair and green eyes. She was married with Jaron for twenty five years.
They divorced after Tracey discovered that Jaron was having an affair with Tarlene. Suddenly, Tracey started to cry. She had to confess something to Detective Sparkly. She was the intellectual author of Jaron murder. Tracey never forgived him for his infidelity with Tarlene. Soon, it would be a session to elect the new CEO of JSS. Tracey thought that she will be elected to occupy the vacant chair.
Jaron was intercepted in his car when he left JSS after the ending of the Board of Directors meeting. He was brought to an abandoned parking lot and shooted with a gun by a profesional assasin that left the country after commiting the crime.
Detective Sparkly called the police and Tracey was put under arrest. She would be in a life time sentence on prison.
Nayda Ivette
11-28-2015
In early eighteen-forty-four,
In Cornwall’s heart; on Bodmin Moor,
Charlotte Dymond, a young farm maid,
Had her throat slit with a steel blade,
She crossed fast streams and deadly bogs,
Found her way through mists and fogs,
But couldn’t stop that fatal blow,
That stole her life and laid her low,
She walked to meet someone that day,
Just who that was ... no one would say,
Found days later beside a track,
Laid on a cart; her shroud a sack,
The surgeon, Thomas Good, was fetched,
Had in his mind, her white face etched,
Charlotte untouched by fox or crow,
Had she been moved ... he did not know,
No evidence was ever found,
But her young boyfriend had gone to ground,
Fingers so quick to point his way,
Matthew Weeks panicked; ran away,
The hapless cripple, was soon caught,
No other culprit was ever sought,
The judge was just a rubber-stamp,
Bodmin Gaol was dark and damp,
The scaffold built, the crowds arrived,
Matthew swore he had not lied,
The floor gave way, the rope drew tight,
Was justice done ... the verdict right?
I strolled into the room, real casual you see
I took a look around, one of them was guilty
*Bang* an authoritative door slam sounds in my wake
Dramatic sunglasses removal, in their boots, they will shake
A murder committed, someone has to pay the price
Time to get down to business, time to roll the dice
At first I suspected Mr. Green with the dagger
Suspicious in the lounge with a cool, cocky swagger
No one could be trusted on this ill-fated night
Least of all the deceptive charms of one, Mrs. White
In the study I says, “PUT DOWN THAT WRENCH”
Oh yes, she wreaked of a foul, guilty stench
But we can’t forget Miss. Scarlet’s wicked wiles
Think she’s got you fooled with sultry, saucy smiles
Then I find Mr. Mustard with a knife in the kitchen
I got a hunch see, this inkling’s got me itchin’
Is that Professor Plum hiding in the conservatory?
He says the pipe’s for plumbing, Yeah. A real likely story
I search the billiard room and the library
What I find next is out of the ordinary
A revolver in the books, I take it to the dining room
Where sits Mrs. Peacock, shrouded in feather boa plume
She sits by glowing flame, provided by a candlestick
She licks her fingers coyly and snuffs out the wick
The lights come on, she’s gone! I find her in the cellar
Not to brag here, but my detective skills are stellar
It’s there I lay out all the evidence to accuse
If this was a game, I tell ya, it’s here you would lose
If you want the identity of this crafty sleuth
To really know who seeks the truth
The one following each mysterious Clue
Since it’s 1949 release, it’s every one of you
July 21, 2022
Start Sleuthing Poetry contest
Sponsored by: Natasha L Scragg
Featured Famous Sleuth: Clue board game participants young and old :)
1566, Eastward Street
Hampton City
11:00 p.m.
September 22, 2016
Detective Sparkly is hired to investigate crime cases
Tall, tanned skin, brown eyes and black hair
Thirty years old and single. He had not been very
Lucky with the ladies. His detective works take
Many hours to investigate and resolve the cases
He was in his office when received a phone call in
His cell phone. Who can be calling at that hour?
Detective Sparkly answered the phone call. For
His surprise it was a lady. She identifies by the
Name of Tarlene. He felt a strange sensation in his heart
Tarlene wants to contract Detective Sparkly to investigate
Her husband murder. Jaron was found dead inside his car.
He was the CEO of a prestigious stock brocker firm.
Local TV and new papers covered the news. There no was
A specific suspect or reason for this crime.
Detective Sparkly arranged to met Tarlene in a coffee shop
In the morning of next day to gather more information about the
Case he was going to investigate. Tarlene arrived at 8:00 a.m.
She was drinking a mocha coffe when Detective Sparkly arrived
To the table.
They looked as if they had known each other for a long time
Detective Sparkly introduced himself and sat down. He ordered
An expresso coffee. Tarlene started to tell about her husband
Death. Detective Sparkly was taking notes in his notebook. Why
They do not know is that destiny has a great surprise for both
Nayda Ivette
11-26-2015
The Painting
A perplexing plot, an enchanting romance, it quivers with passion,
mystery, as lies unravel and family secrets are exposed at last!
Can a garage sale painting reveal secrets . . . or hidden truths.
And for striving artist Miranda, finding it is only the beginning
into a labyrinth of lies, horror--and murder. It brings Tom Ashton
into her lonely life and eventually makes her a suspect in his
brutal and fatal shooting. She sets out to solve his death and
clear her name--and uncover why Tom wanted the painting back
so desperately... what was in the painting that he did not want
her to know-- Miranda will go through the crumbling gates of Ashton
Manor where Tom's hidden truths resided. Where family secrets
lay concealed -- who had a reason to kill Tom and who has decided
that Miranda is the next to die? What is hidden within that painting?
SHE STANDS BACK LOOKING AT THE PAINTING STARING AND
PONDERING, WHAT TRUTHS DO YOU HIDE?
__________________________
June 5, 2013
Poetry/Narrative/Introduction, The Painting
Copyright Protected, ID 06-483-459-05
All Rights Reserved, 2013, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, You've Written a Novel
sponsor, Judy Konos, Judged 06/17/2013
First Place
He was alone and lonely.
Sadness swept his eyes
before he jabbed at me
with his cynical sarcasm.
He slowly lit his Camel.
It was a simple act of murder
and he was a scholar of sorts –
a player of chess, a fan of poetry.
I knew I was under his scrutiny.
I agree it looked rather suspicious.
After all, the body was there
and I was found holding the knife.
I squirmed under his hard eye
but leaned back into the chair
in front of his desk knowing
he had a soft spot for women.
A hard drinker, he took a bottle
from his cabinet and offered
a glass to me. I didn’t accept
as I knew I should stay alert.
“It was a man, a squabby man,
with a glimmer of glee in his eye,”
I said. “He looked at me, then
threw down the knife and ran.”
Marlowe said, “I don’t think you did it.
There was no blood on your clothes.
Your shoes would have soaked
in the blood and crusted.”
I relaxed a little and offered a smile.
I knew I was home free.
I was glad I had changed my shoes.
“I’ll take that drink now.”
She took the bait…
Inspired by but not entered in Natasha L Scragg’s Start Sleuthing Poetry Contest