Long Scary Poems

Long Scary Poems. Below are the most popular long Scary by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Scary poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Living With a Ghost

living with a ghost is easy
sometimes scary
       a bit hard on the nerves
               at times   but lovely too           
I have been doing it for years now    years I tell you
ever since grandma went or should I say     didn't
you see    I inherited all her things   sadly some got sold
but I kept many   including
               her old favorite chair
                     an antique china cabinet
                          with her tea cups and collectibles
oh how she loved her collectibles   now be gentle dear
   I recall her saying to the little girl that was me
      all
        those
            years 
                ago
after grandma's funeral    ( I read the eulogy too) 
I felt a presence in my nest   my home     I really did 
but brushed it off . . . 
   then one day    a friend    who thought herself a physic
            visited
she stood in the center of my living room    eyes closed
  for the longest time.... I wanted to say   are you okay?
turned to me suddenly  and said     you have a ghost   
    I gulped    I DO! . . .  NO, she said    you have TWO
 she walked right over to the grandma's chair
            she is right here watching you     and she has a cat
A CAT? ...   I said       yes, a calico cat
                       I did not know what to say
you see... my cat patches who recently died was calico
     well, I was not that shocked as me     and grandma
                had a special bond     always
now often     I will hear the china cabinet     open (at night)
     and in the morning the tea cups and collectibles have moved
sometimes      the chair will creak    and was that a ghostly meow
but I love my ghosts     both of them     I really do     
and would have it no other way . . .
    sometimes, I bring the chair a cup of tea
          I even talk to it (never sit in it)
                   I know that sounds silly
                              but I swear, she is listening
                                      NOT THE CHAIR    grandma-

_____________________________________
June 5, 2016

Poetry/Narrative/Living With A Ghost
Copyright Protected, ID 16-797-557-0
All Rights Reserved.  Written under Pseudonym.

Submitted to the contest, Any HM Ever
Sponsor, Laura Loo

Second Place

____________________
For the contest, 
I Ain't  Afraid Of No Ghost


Honorable Mention
Form: Narrative


Guardian Angels

Goodnight my dear boy and what's that you say?
You want me to chase the bad monsters away?
Well, I'll tell you a tale that may just be true
And if it's made up, it is done just for you...

I know you're afraid of the dark and the gloom
When you lie wide awake all alone in your room
'Scardy cats prowl and their tattle-tales pester
Goose bumps may prickle and worry-warts fester

Shadow-ghosts creep up and crawl to your cover
You roll on your side but then you discover
The thump in your pillowcase whispers too loud
So here's what I've done and I know you'll be proud...

I've met with the monster man under your bed
He thinks you will find he is not much to dread
He just needs a friend and to know that you care
So if you reach down he'll shake hands from his lair

I've found where that boogie man hides in the wall
He's cramped and alone and he waits for your call
He believes you're convinced he is ugly and mean
And hold him to blame when you have a bad dream

Your monster man's fierce and has razor-sharp teeth
But he understands things that may stir underneath
Your boogie man knows what you don't want to find
And what's around corners and hidden behind...

They'd like to come out and tell you a story
(Perhaps something scary but nothing too gory)
Sit up and talk with them late into night
Come morning they'll gladly slip back out of sight

But at night they'll grow strong to protect like they should
To face down your fear and show evil what's good
Stand watch while you sleep, they will stay by their mark
If you wake you might catch their eyes glow in the dark...

It's then as you grow you may find you walk bolder
With two fearsome friends striding close by your shoulders
They'll go anyplace as a general rule
(But maybe you'd better not bring them to school)

If witches and dragons can streak through the sky
Then monsters and boogie men surely must fly!
At the edge of your sleep (when you just start to doze)
Whisper the password and wiggle your toes...

And they'll sweep you away to soar like a dove
Over the rooftops to heavens above!
Up into orbit to your own private place
High on a mountaintop floating in space

Sit back and relax with a satisfied grin
Laughing and singing as you watch the earth spin
Hum along while your boogie man growls a brave tune
Count stars while your monster man howls at the moon
Form: Rhyme

Nothing Really Matters

Lately everything seems to be surrounded in darkness
Either I am way too close or too far away
When I stand close I perfectly see the flickering light ahead
How close it is but when I reach it.. it just disappears
I can't seem to grasp anything that's around me anymore
When I touch it, it just turns to ash... 

Seems I have lost the will to do much anything
Sometimes I find myself starring at white walls..
I forgot to think.. maybe I will forget to breath too

The image of the world in my head.. is so different from what I see... with my eyes
Is reality an allusion or is the world in my head.. 

Darkness surrounding everyone I stand close to
You see them fade in and out like a hologram
When you reach out to touch them.. they are not real
Sometimes they just.. disappear 
Then I find myself searching for what I used to know

Seems the world in my head.. is not so bright and colorful anymore
Either everyone is stuck in the past with me.. or they are moving forward..
I am watching them pass me by as I stay within the realm I am used to knowing

No matter how many times I change my appearance..
Everything stays the same... and I realize..
All the people I know.. 
In the end. .. nothing really matters...

Everything you knew..
Everything you have touched..

Everyone you have loved
Everyone you once cared for

All the lessons you learned...
what are they for?...

Is it better to be... alone..
Where there is no pain in a relationship with another..
I can no longer get close to anyone..
I find myself.. stepping further and further back
Yet I cannot stop myself... there is no rope to grab..

Which world would I rather live in.. the one i see with my eyes.. or the one in my head...

They both have become.. one of the same... covered and smeared in blood.. 
Darkness...

I have no reflection in the mirror.. and I can feel my soul slipping from within me
All I see.. is cracks.. where my soul is leaking its way out..
Yet no band-aid or super glue.. could help cover it

Hallow...

Nothing can save you now.. because you realize... the truth..
Once your world is coming to an end.. it wont matter.. 
You will not remember.. you wont be able to feel.. 

Somehow, even with this darkness and being surrounded by darkness
Having the feeling of comfort and a blind happiness

Everything is perfectly where it belongs...
Form: Lyric

Bus Ride Across America

the Bus – Travels Through America’s Underbelly

I am a bus rider
That makes me unusual
For a white male 
From an upper middle class family

Our people are not bus riders
Though some are subway riders

Bus riders are other people
The poor, minorities, immigrants
People who don’t drive
Because they are blind
Or have a DUI

And in my case
I don’t drive
Because I have bad vision
And bad coordination
Just never got the hang 
Of the whole driving thing

Fortunately for me  
My wife does the driving 
But I still take the bus
From time to time

I rode the AC buses in Berkeley
As a child
Line 67, line 51, line 43 F bus
Rode them long before BART came along
And afterwards as well

As an adult seldom rode the bus 
But when I did so
I was always impressed 
By the sheer diversity 
Of the bus riding property

Hundreds of languages
All sorts of sexual orientation
Some were white
Most were not

Most of my fellow passengers
Were nice enough
Some were friendly
And some were lost 
In their own thoughts

And a few 
Were scary looking dudes
With the look
Of someone who had done time
And were capable of more violence

I also rode the bus 
In Seattle as a graduate student
A lot of fellow UW students
And the usual immigrants
Minorities etc

And some white people
Commuting

And in DC 
Over the years
I rode a lot of buses

Mostly to and from the metro
But I got to know 
And love the DC buses as well

I also took the greyhound bus
Across the country
Several times over the years
All over the U.S.

From Bay Area to Stockton
From Bay Area to Clear Lake
From Bay area to NYC
NYC to DC
All over the USA

Taking the Greyhound
Was always an an adventure
Met a lot of interesting people
As people on long distant bus rides
Tend to open up and talk
To pass the time away

Overseas I took the bus 
All over
In India, in Barbados
In Spain and in Korea

The Korean buses 
For many years 
Were difficult for foreign visitors
As the signs were all in Korean

Most have signs 
Now in English, Chinese and Korean
And are much more foreigner friendly

Riding the bus
In America
Allows one access 
To the underbelly of American society
The poor, the marginalized
The immigrant communities

That many middle-class white people
Just never see

And for that reason
I am glad	
That I am a bus rider
© Jake Aller  Create an image from this poem.

To the End

“Speak from the heart”
What a load of crap
Cut straight to the point
did this all even matter?
From the start, the middle to that bitter-sweet end

A strange affair
A compilation of half-assed dates
Boring moments between two boring individuals
A couple of airheads
A blind trust formed by dimwits
Strangely normal, strangely plain
 
Formless wandering in a hollow husk
Dead, dirty skin flakes off my shoulders
Brain-dead is labeled across my head in bold
Casually tossing what remains out on the curb
I don’t seem to care

Remaining the same day by day;
“There’s always tomorrow,”
“I can’t reach the phone, try again tomorrow,”
“It will have to wait for tomorrow,”
“Today is not tomorrow.”
Monotony brought flowers to my door
You preached about Today when Tomorrow was yesterday
 
All those tears won’t get you anywhere
what made you sad, anyways?
Turning away from closed doors and shaken dreams
what were you fighting for, anyways?
There’s someone willing to bid a “Goodbye”
what are you waiting for, anyways?

It’s all so maddening, tumbling, waking, apologizing
Shaking my fists in anger
falling down a steep cliff
rising with the morning sun
crying on my knees
Was I ever prepared for walking this world alone; life is throwing a curveball and I’m no batter
Hunched over the bathroom sink, my eyes see something extraterrestrial
like a bad trip on drugs I can’t seem to break that nasty spell

Viewing life through a fish-eyed lens
the photo prints Hell
Oh, such a horrid sight but I can’t find the will to look away
Find a way to kill me
I can’t stand this any longer
Death is my only resolve

It’s all so maddening, tumbling, waking, apologizing
Shaking my fists in anger
falling down a steep cliff
rising with the morning sun
crying on my knees
Was I ever prepared for walking this world alone; life is throwing a curveball and I’m no batter
Hunched over the bathroom sink, my eyes see something extraterrestrial
like a bad trip on drugs I can’t seem to break that nasty spell

Viewing life through a fish-eyed lens
the photo prints dying
Oh, such a pleasant sight and I can’t find the will to look away
Find a way to kill me
I can’t stand the wait any longer
Death is my only resolve
 
When the clock strikes twelve
When the night is at its peak
When the dark has spread through the room
Striking down— a bullseye!


Children of Faith

Children of faith,
That look up to the heavens,
For help, for comfort,
For a change, for a beginning;
They are like nails hammered into rocks,
They have broken hearts,
They've got nothing,
Completely no one else to turn to,
They walk in the shadow of death.

Children of faith,
They know that they have numbered days,
And are aware of their crashing clay;
They see their fading light rays,
But they have their hopes high,
Like a camel in the Sahara,
That waits for years ,
For a shower of rain from above-
Their tongues prophecy new beginnings,
Their lips sing in thanksgiving,
But their hearts weep in sorrow,
For the afflictions and torments.

Children of faith,
Live each day like their last,
And give each shining sun their best.
Their thoughts are totally lost,
And upon this,they don't boast.
In fact, they're so detached-
From their poor lives.
They thank the setting sun,
For bringing a thin film of darkness,
And for silencing the day's noises;
So that they will shut their doors and windows,
 To cry in silence,
And lick their tears;
And face their fierce fears-
While no one else witnesses their agony.

Children of faith,
That look up to the skies,
For midday dusk-
When the days seem longer,
Or appear like they're failing.
That call on,
For midnight dawn,
When nights appear faulty;
With the greatest of scary dreams,
And the highest ranking of their pain,
Or with life-threatening haemorrhages,
With wounds cut and drilled deeper.
Their lives have taken firm grip,
On to the strongest ropes,
Whose ends are knotted to weak poles.
Most of them lose it with time,
Like you and I at some point;
Only few keep the fire burning,
As they wait for their deliverance.

Children of faith,
I don't understand what it is that they are made of,
But only they know what  their origins are.
We want to walk like them,
And borrow lessons from their trials,
As we try to put on their coats,
Just to feel the coldness or warmth or both;
That they get from their shield of faith.
She wants to follow their example,
And keep hearing their tales.
He wants to live a life like theirs;
And keep reciting their prayers.
We plead with them,
 To Teach us ;
How to build faith like theirs.
When the storms are rough,
When the floods are yet to wash away our feet-
When misfortune befalls us,
Or when we feel we've lost it all.

Premium Member Click My Heels and Travel

I love to travel anywhere, the more foreign the better for me,
Strange lands and how other people live is very interesting to see.
This travel bug I caught got started when I was only eighteen years old,
A college friend and I went to the Bahamas, we were fearless and so bold.

Then I started my career and I knew to take advantage of this time,
Each year I’d set off somewhere new, after saving my every dime.
I traveled to beautiful Hawaii followed by South America the next year,
One of my favourites was Bermuda, I was young, memories so dear.

I flew over to England and stayed for a fortnight to visit a new friend, 
We toured all around Scotland traveling as far north as Land’s end.
After that I spent a lot of time in the Caribbean, the trips become a blur,
Many islands look the same, palm trees and beaches, others will concur.

Mexico was interesting studying the Mayans from Chichen Itza to Tulum,
Manzanillo to Puerto Vallarta, high cliffs where the waves crash and loom,
Got engaged in Myrtle Beach, so it holds a special place in my heart,
Then honeymooned in Jamaica where we spent not a moment apart.

Once the children came along, the travel plans required a major adjust,
We would go away on 5 year anniversaries, this was an absolute must.
A Caribbean five island cruise then the next trip two weeks in New Zealand,
But my favourite place remains the Greek islands, windmills, sun and sand.

Liechtenstein, Austria and Switzerland was a mother-daughter trip,
I showed her the ropes of travel and how much to leave for a tip.
Seems this travel bug of mine has proved to be a little bit contagious
My daughter now loves travel but her destinations are more outrageous.

While traveling is usually an educational journey, one that I just adore,
I’ve had moments in Egypt and the Holy land, that chilled me to the core.
But even during these very scary times, one thing that stands forever true,
The people there were kind and caring, someone always willing to help you.

I think that I still have a few more trips left in me, if my pocket book holds out,
Need to see eastern Europe, China and Africa, there’s more to learn, no doubt.
For the meeting of new people and learning their culture, gives my life new lease,
It provides the burden of proof that all should know, we need to work for peace.

Written by Lee Ramage 
For Contest "Close your eyes and click your heels"
© Lee Ramage  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Concrete and Cyclones

Oh, fear! The sinister finger of a tornado!

                                Twisting, spinning, spiraling in turbulent

                         toroidal twirls of angry winds and high

                    pressures, few forces - natural or nay -

                are as destructive or as frightening or

              as beautiful! Yes, I am myself afraid

              of those weaving beasts of spinning

                horror, for there are few things as

                   certain to bring unavoidable death

                        and destruction, but I have also

                              always been drawn so to their

                                 violent beauty and power, and

                                     their affect on atmosphere and

                                       light. There is little anyone can

                                       do to avoid their wrath if they

                                      find you, and that assured ill

                                   anger of nature is why they

                             are so reviled ... buildings,

                         cars, animals, trees, bits,

                   pieces, farms, insects,

               trucks, people, pets,

             houses, things that

           grow, move, stand

           still, fixed, loose,

            secured - there

              is hardly any-

                thing that is

                    outside the

                        mix of the

                            horror, but

                                   if you are

                                           a broad,

                                                   strong,

                                                           long,

                                                                   flat, 
                                                                       
                                                        ....,,,,~>>~,,,,....

- Smooth, deep, thick, hard, layer of the finest concrete, then you are SOLID! -






Submitted on November 22, 2020
To the "SHAPE UP" Poetry Contest
Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor

~ 1st Place ~  in the "The Shape Of My Art" Poetry Contest, Line Gauthier, Judge & Sponsor.
Form: Concrete

Premium Member A Beach Within My Reach

I am a basset hound and I love to play
I can run and jump all day
I really love magic and tricks
I also love chocolate bics
Yummy! They are so good 
I would eat a packet a day if I could
My name is Lady and here is a story all about me
I'm a funny looking dog you see:


Lady was home alone
All she had was her green plastic bone
Her owners had gone out for the day
And Lady really wanted   to play
Miserable, she lay on the ground with her long floppy ears
With watery eyes, it seemed as though she was about to burst into tears
Suddenly she perked up when she heard a squeaking sound coming from the house
Lady became excited, she hoped it was a mouse
She barked out loud and ran towards the sound
Lady was such a clever basset hound
With her long nose, she sniffed out the little mouse in his hiding place
The whole morning turned into a playful ‘dog and mouse’ chase!
The mouse was too fast for her and escaped through a small crack in the wall
He was terrified of this funny looking dog who stood two feet tall
Exhausted, Lady flopped down in her basket to rest
She had tried her very, very best
She closed her eyes and had a long nap
And dreamt that she managed to squeeze through the scary dog flap
When Lady woke up, her throat felt dry
She needed a gallon of water to drink and she alone knew why!
The sun was shining and it was hot
She found her bowl and gulped down the lot
Lady looked at the new dog flap
She lifted up one of her paws and gave it a sharp tap
She took a chance and pushed herself through the gap
Relief flooded through her, she had made it out of the flap
Out in the sun
It was time for more fun
Lady headed to the beach
It wasn’t far, within her reach
Calm blue sea with the tiniest of waves
Grottos and amazing caves
Lady’s paw marks were all over the sand
She loved to play by the sea and on land
Cool air blew around her as she splashed around in the sea
What a great feeling it was to be free!
The aroma of food was all around
She was always hungry, this hilarious hound
An ice-cream van was parked nearby
Lady drooled and just stood by
A young couple spotted the little dog sitting down on her own
Her sad brown eyes caught their attention, they each bought her a cone
Lady wished that she could shout
She clenched both cones in her mouth
She licked off the chocolate ice-cream and wolfed down the rest
Form: Limerick

Lame Name Game

Silly Billy had no fear, he drowned it in a case of beer.
Handy Andie so adept, kept so busy, she never slept.
Dirty Donna did what you wanna, she lived just down the street.
You didn't have to ask her twice, she was so nice and very sweet.
Hairy Larry all alone, made the women grimace and groan.
Very scary in his approach, girls would crush him like a roach.
Steady Betty, always ready with what ever it took.
Found a way to save the day, be it by hook or crook.
Stan the man does what he can no matter what it takes.
Always appalled by what has happened, then says for goodness sakes. 
Gabby Abby giggles and talks with nary a concern.
I wonder if there'll ever be a time she'll ever learn.
Bob the slob wouldn't get a job, he did nothing all day.
He looked a mess, and yes I guess, there's nothing left to say.
Chatty Patty talked so much, she developed lock jaw.
You'd think that that would slow her down, but nah.
Dorky Doug had quite the mug, he looked a little askew.
When he'd greet you on the street, you didn't know what to do.
Nick the stick was very quick, always on the go.
He never walked, he always ran, the word slow, he didn't know.
Guilty Milty quite the guy. He never looked you in the eye.
If you caught him at his game, instead of shame, he'd rather die.
Ditzy Mitzy, not a clue, in her ear, you'd see clear through.
Sandy Sandy, on the beach, the young men she would beseech.
Their young minds she couldn't reach, but that's not what she tried to teach.
Loser Lenny always played, what it cost, he never weighed.
Didn't know when to walk away, should have left, but always stayed.
Pervy Peter made skin crawl, I'm guessing his was pretty small.
You felt like you'd catch a disease, even if he would just sneeze.
Surly Shirley, not too girly, and not very nice.
You can ask her once, a question, but don't ask her twice.
Bendy Wendy in the breeze, did everything down on her knees. 
The young boys she'd always please, when they would leer up in the tree's.
Kent the gent, his kindness spent, decided it was time.
To let them know just what he meant, but still did it in rhyme.
Holy Holly, quite contrite, prayed sincerely every night.
Oh, good golly, how she yearned for things to be just right.
In the interest of keeping your interest, I think I'll stop it here.
Like Billy up in the first line, I think I'll have a beer. :)
Form: Rhyme

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