Long Serial killer Poems
Long Serial killer Poems. Below are the most popular long Serial killer by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Serial killer poems by poem length and keyword.
The police continued their investigation and were
extremely puzzled. They couldn't figure out how
those small footprints found by the window be
possibly responsible for the disappearance of an eight
year old, Ann Marie Burr.
Sadly the case was not solved. Ann Marie Burr's
parents suffered through many years of not knowing
what happened to their precious daughter. The years
went by and there was no news of their missing
child.
Fourteen years had gone by. Mrs Burr was
watching a news bulletin from her local news station.
She heard of a mans name that was linked to several
murders. The name kept ringing in her mind over
and over again. Finally she called her girlfriend and
asked her if she had ever heard this familiar name.
Her girlfriend told her thinking for a minute, no I honestly,
don't remember this name. Beverly thanked her and
hung up.
Several hours later Beverly's phone rings, her friend
excitedly tells her yes, now I remember that name!
That was the paperboy. I am absolutely sure It was the
neighborhood paperboy. TED BUNDY!!!
Serial killer Ted Bundy lived several blocks from the
kidnapped child. The small footprints were for a small
boy that were found outside the window. They say it
was Ted Bundy's first murder. He was fourteen years
old when he committed it. Her body was never found
and her parents died not knowing where their daughter
was. Mrs Burr wrote a letter to Bundy asking for
closure, to please tell her where her daughter was. Bundy
never did. He was linked to 36 murders but a detective
that interviewed him said he had told him he was
responsible for over 100 murders. He was eventually
put to death.
Michael Tor 9/22/2015
Mr. Meow Our Kitty Comic
While talking to our neighbor one day
Our cat Mr. Meow rubbed up against my leg
“Oh there is Saffron.” our neighbor said
“No, No, you must be misled
That is our tabby cat, Mr. Meow”
The neighbor shook her head and raised her eyebrow
“He has lived with us for about a year
We call him Mr. Meow since meowing is what we constantly hear
He followed my husband around the yard one day
We thought he was a stray and decided to let him stay”
“No, he was born next door
With several brothers and sisters on the shed floor”
Just then mama kitty walked up to Mr. Meow and they rubbed noses
Our yards were separated by a few trees and a bed of roses
“We got all his shots at the vet”
“We did too the day after we met”
We started laughing and our neighbor said, “What a little comic mess
Saffron alias Mr. Meow, the little con can be your cat I guess”
Mr. Meow, we discovered was a comedian
My husband and I were his biggest fans
To get our attention he would do a little prance
A hunched back like a Halloween cat dance
Many a day he brought us gifts, birds and rabbits
Without success we tried to break his serial killer habits
Laughing at him was what he liked most
Of course, he could be distracted by a piece of pork roast
During his sixteen years he learned to sit on command
He seemed to realize our dog Boodro got treats if he obeyed demands
We can't help but smile as we think of him
Our beloved tabby comic who always made us grin
Silently, the serial killer
crept in, keeping to the side,
undetectable. Hanging out
day after day, watching,
learning the habits,
figuring the timing to be just
right. Too late, others would
come to save her, too late they
would see the pattern that
was there all along, hiding.
Silently, the serial killer
made a move, over bone
and marrow, flesh and
fat, he kept at it, until
she could not fight any more.
Silently, violently, the
serial killer took his victim
to her death. She was
mourned by those she knew
and families of the most
prolific serial killer
of all time – Cancer.
created 11 Jan 2019
(I only thought about becoming a serial killer)
I am laid back even when
Standing on the loped off shoulders
Jereremy the ant
Jeff the ant
All the j
Auntie dissed establishment tarry
I like ism’s
Rembering my romance with
Shakespeare get Gogh
paint my words with S paces
nearly fillled
Along ago there was a go
Why isn’t it jiant
I got flow
that’s
Below
low
shall
Owned
Dethroned
the choking chicken
Bone
Stop bre ………………. dths
Breath threads
History……….. …………………………. Me
It’s left and right side
Sipping like a teacup sip
slipped the rice
In bowled over
Yet
teY be knotted
oar not two bees
Take it ease
ly squeezely
like flies
wiped by the breeze
There is a fly
in the oinkment
Someone ate pork chops ,
the duck is in
a plucking bad mood,
threats of assassination
and shooting him
Leave me alone
you vile monsters,
talking of making
curry out of duck
dead remains
Scrambling the eggs and allsorts,
please anyone
with a heart shelter me
I am an old duck
Going grey in the feathers,
this all gives me such bad blood
at my age
We live in such a hostile world,
I have such a good family
They have protected me for years,
in the sanctuary
of beautiful hills
Always had peace and quiet,
no interference
from the out side world
Until now this carry on
demonic snuff videos
sent to duck ,
just wish
they could see my little heart
Have always been a good duck,
wouldn't hurt anyone
accept flies
My little eyes
cry tears of fear,
my life is being threatened
As I wipe the tears
with my wings,
now they are stuck
to my sides with so much fear
If only I could stretch my wings
In happiness
towards the sky,
like in my sheltered years
My wings always
opened for a hug,
why do you want me
to have such a cruel end,
like the pig pork chops
Beware of the wolf
in sheep's clothing
My dad taught me this,
he always made me feel 3 foot high
Hiding in the corn,
probing for intelligence,
a non smoking serial killer
Sent pictures of dead fellow ducks
on a plate,
had such beautiful adventures,
planning them in my mind,
now distorted with threats
You opened
a big can of worms
Threatening the life of this duck
Sending snuff videos
Of duck killers ,
help me find the killers
As they ain,t seen
crazy duck yet
THE DAY LITTLE LUCY DISAPPEARED
A serial killer is killing and still not caught,
And the victims he's believed to have killed,
Weren't found, till the day Little Lucy been sought,
As our story unfolds, "KILLER FOUND" as billed,
Little Lucy was playing out in front of the house,
Dad in the garage was fixing the car,
Mom in the kitchen peeked and saw her yellow blouse,
Suddenly a car pulled up in front, was rather bizarre,
Then little Lucy's curdling shrieks of mercy and pleas,
Of parents cries "STOP!" to a car that spun out,
That raced down the road and opportunity ceases,
The family car couldn't start, time lost all doubt,
911 was all over the house and highways searching,
A dedicated force whose vulnerability is now showed,
Time runs out as a serial killer is out there killing,
While a yellow ribbon is pocketed, deed, he felt goaded,
When a bit of luck, the obtuse murderer was found,
A yellow ribbon was given to parents in their house,
The killer, a case of psychiatric help for been unsound,
Parents cry, "Where's our Lucy, this goes with her blouse!"
Date: 09/01/2019
Saint Satanyahu, a patron saint of death and deep sorrow in the world today.
You are a vampire among men and a devil among angels.
Saint Satanyahu, the world today is in pain and deep sorrow because of the darkness of your soul.
Savior of the fewer West, but enslaver of the world and Unforgettable serial killer.
In the rivers of the Middle East, you have spilled blood , found guilty by the Church of ICC.
But shielded by your spoiled sisters Amerigo and Europa,the impunity enjoyed.
Saint Satanyahu, the world is in tears having you walking through it.
You have left a painful imprint on the consciousness of humanity.
You have brought Darkness upon this world, but the world shall see light again..!!!
By Chanda Katonga.
To share a painful dive
deserves credit
I was terrified
Police groped blindly in this chase -
a psychopathic serial killer
A cold knife blade against the body
is in every way a mental abuse
Even if you're trying to gain control on all
the pieces that are missing in the moment
Run ... run ... run for your life
Beads of sweat drip from the forehead
taste of blood in the mouth
I have no idea where the forces came from
had to fight from start to finish
in this life-threatening situation
Run ... run ... run until you are exhausted
I did not have much strength left
But the alternative would have been horrible
The world suddenly turned black
I woke up in the hospital one day later
No one can distance themselves from this feeling
The experience is forever in my backpack
10/08/2020
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
INFLICTIONS Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
2nd place in the contest
- a fictional poem :)
The quiet college town of
Briarwood lived in absolute
terror as a dark shadow fell
over the campus.
A serial killer dubbed the
"The Black Rose Killer" was
targeting young female
students every semester.
Senior student Chloe Miller
became the third victim,
found in her dorm with a dark
velvet blossom.
The community panicked,
and the university
administration enacted a
strict dusk- to- dawn curfew
for safety.
Detective Marcus Charleston took
over the grueling case,
desperately searching for a
single connection.
Every victim was an honors
student, but they shared no
mutual friends, classes, or
social clubs.
Marcus spent weeks
analyzing the crime scenes,
noting the pristine condition
of the floral signatures.
He discovered that the rare
black roses used by the killer
were a genetically modified
hybrid species.
Only one high- end boutique
greenhouse in the entire
state possessed the license
to cultivate them.
Marcus paid a visit to the
local shop, questioning the
head botanist about recent
bulk purchases.
The store ledger revealed a
regular customer named Victor
Thorne, a quiet, nocturnal campus
groundskeeper.
Victor had unrestricted master-
key access to every academic
building and residential hall
on the campus.
Search warrants were quietly
issued, and a tactical police
unit raided Victor's off- campus
basement apartment.
Inside the damp cellar,
investigators uncovered a
chilling shrine dedicated to
the deceased college women.
The room was filled with
stolen student ID's, hair
ribbons, and several bins of
black soil.
A specialized refrigerated
unit in the corner contained
dozens of freshly clipped
black roses.
Forensic scientists also
recovered a pair of muddy
work boots matching the
prints left at Chloe's scene.
Victor was arrested at the
university greenhouse while
tending to his next dark floral
harvest.
The terrifying reign of the
campus predator was
brought to and end by his own
unique calling card.
Victor Thorne was locked
away for life, ensuring the
students of Briarwood could
walk safely again.
A child once watched the monster call.
Where love was earned by fear’s recall.
The cradle rocked on trembling ground,
No laughter lived, no comfort found.
The hand that struck became the law,
The bruise a lesson carved in awe.
Toys lay broken, faces still,
A heart rehearsed its need to kill.
Empathy, a heart gone cold,
Stories sold but never told.
Mirrors showed a stranger’s face,
The smile a counterfeit of grace.
He learned that silence hides the crime,
That pain repeats itself through time.
Small cruelties grew to practiced art,
The hunter formed in youth became.
Fantasies stitched from mother’s cries,
Power blooming where love went to die.
The first mistake became a vow,
The mask was perfect, polished now.
He walked among us, calm and clear,
A whisper soft, but edged with fear.
He studied how the innocent trust,
And turned their kindness into death.
Each act a mirror of his long dark past,
Each life a way to make it last.
The world his stage, the dead his proof,
Beneath the calm, a shattered roof.
They called him evil, monster, myth—
But born from pain, he lived with this:
The child he was still calls his name,
Through bars, through time, through endless shame.
For every killer ever made—
a broken child was first betrayed.