Long Undead Poems
Long Undead Poems. Below are the most popular long Undead by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Undead poems by poem length and keyword.
October First
By Franklin Price
10/01/2015
October first, time's moving on
Just thirty days away,
The gremlins and goblins
Will be coming out to play.
They will be very hungry,
All your candy they will eat.
When they come around on Halloween,
To your house for Trick or Treat
There will be ghosts and Dracula s,
mummies and undead too,
super heroes, pirates,
Star Wars characters for you
Monsters in their mother's arms
Too young to walk about
Toddlers holding daddys' hands
Come to your house and shout
Trick or Treat they sometimes say
May take a prompt or two
Or may be silent as a lamb
When they shove their bag at you
Give them all some candy
That's why Halloween is here
Get ready for the next group
You can hear them drawing near
Most of them are youngsters
With bed times not too late
Must quickly take your candy
And be home in bed by eight
Gargoyle Dog with his sharp angry claws
Hooded Skeleton sat on a throne of skele-raws.
They had borrowed Grim Reaper’s murdering scythe.
The better to kill trick-or-treaters and others with.
Ebony raven flew past, terrified of this seasonal pair.
Skeleton thrones made of HS’s brothers put evil in the air.
His leering toothy grin encouraged a pronounced sense of horror.
Graveyard was ominous tonight; a vampire would adore her.
Hooded Skeleton sprouts heavy dark devil’s wings; terrible ghoul.
Waiting in the dark for an unsuspecting, optimistic young fool.
An idiot who will think it’s fun to tease the undead on Halloween night.
If he has a thimble of sense he will quickly take a look and die of fright.
Can I scare one if it walks by? Gargoyle Dog asks hopefully.
Hell no, Hooded Skeleton replies. What are you – dope-fully?
If one comes by, I’ll murder them slowly, take all the blame.
Gargoyle Dog began sharpening his claws in case no one else came.
Once a pong of thyme
Adrift upon a gentle breeze
It’s herbal scents did find me
And it brought me to my knees
For once a pong of thyme
Inhaled by pauper or by king
Has that man an allergy
Then wheezing it shall bring
Though once a pong of thyme
Did test my hooter without ill
Alas a pong of garlic
Made me run for yonder hill
See once a pong of thyme
Gave way to scent of allium
This poor old aging vampire
Was in need of Valium
Once a pong of thyme
Was finished messing with my head
An awful pungent smell came from
My wife’s vegetable bed
And once the pong of thyme had passed
She said by way of reasoning,
“I’m pepping up our liquid lunch
With home grown garlic seasoning.”
So once upon a time
My Queen decried me when I said,
“O Queen of Dark we need no pep…
For we two are undead.”
“Once a pong of thyme,” she said,
“Has all the pagans sniffy,
The garlic will deter them
For our house will be too whiffy.”
I told her, “Once the pong of thyme
Leads yet more garlic through our door
Egor will be finding us
As ash piled on the floor.”
So once the pong of thyme
Revealed the potty plan she’d made
I told my Queen, “Get Egor in…
And give that man a spade!”
In the hushed forest a deathly silence prevailed
there was a ram shackled hut in the clearing
Three men stood in chains waiting their fate
with a bright flash the witchdoctor appeared
Cavernous of face and skeleton like body
he was a gruesome sight in his tattered rags
banging his villainous staff on the ground
he summoned the ghouls, witches and Zombies
Capering around him clambering for fresh blood
they advanced on the hapless men undoing chains
first the ghouls had their feast on fresh meat
the witches grabbed the intestines and organs
The Zombies got what was left and reshaped it
forming new Zombies to haunt the local people
so very fearsome with their red flashing eyes
they shambled slowly in a disjointed fashion
For this night of Halloween they were free
to gather souls and turn them into the undead
to serve their evil master and follow his biding
until the first rays of sun send them to the grave
Shadow Hamilton
written 10/15/2013
contest Halloween poem contest only one theme
Eeevile in the realm of the Undead
Chilled blood red cold
Vampire vexation - sexy at best.
Wrapped in comfortable uncomfortable silence
Silence so sharp - you can feel the fangs at your neck.
Sanctimonium or sanctimonious
Vampires dripping of sophistication
They make a show of letting you know
That morally they ARE the BY FAR
With eyes so dark, so deep, so very tinged with icy heat
They draw you in with that sinful all-consuming stare
And tease you with the taste of truth or dare
Soo good it's bad and you can't wait.
To experience the grandeur of that liquid of life
Consuming it excites you
Allowing you to see past death and into the light of forevermore.
Cloaked in satin and bedding in secrets
While bemused by the beguiling beauty of the night
Vampires are never at odds with their shadow selves
They are just inadvertently lethal
You are cruelly entranced
By the bloodlust and the romance
The sensual, seductive man thing
Beckens you beseechingly
Brazen with decadence
Defying decency
He extends his elegant gloved hand
Drawing you in closely
While seemingly mirrored medieval menace
Brings out the dead in your eyes
And happily ever after becomes such a bore
Goodnight my darling you have opened and shut the door
Drank of the blood
Vampire Vexation is now your forevermore....
My feeling heart feels cryptic pain:
Words jerk and start to ooze again.
My body aches with turn of age:
Writes fail to rake the murky page.
My thinking mind plays like a fool:
Thus crazy finds net in sure pool.
My gaze is calm when all is said:
Verse lines ooze balm to one undead.
My primal need is beyond scope:
I look to feed as senses grope.
My simple quest can be so hard:
No time to rest for this old bard.
My way ahead a blurry mist:
Fear fashions dread to oomph a list.
My plot and play weaves thoughts cryptic:
I rhyme my say, sculpt verse mystic.
My time is brief and I must cite:
Both cheer and grief that fund my writes.
My passion play springs from sure zest:
My lightness strays to greet and bless.
Leon Enriquez
03 August 2014
Singapore
Blood Red Moon
Deep devouring passions bleed now from this solar eclipse
As black blood flows from an evil army of “undead” beings
Whose fangs hideously and cruelly pierce the veins of their
Mesmerized and unsuspecting victims who are held at bay.
In such silence burdens prowl inside deep sad heartbeats
As ghastly living shadows creep eerily in and knot the
Tortured guts of a twisted scared bloodless life falling
Under the dark macabre gaze of the Blood Red Moon.
At night uncanny black magic spells are intoned in the
Old Latin scripture as large spider webs cast a gloomy
Presence and envelope now all those trapped by them as
The misted breath bleeding hearts howl to Heaven’s roar.
Standing upon a rugged and lonely mountain crossroad
There can be no release from the devilish glare of the
Vaunted “Blood Red Moon” whose evil presence pervades
Every breath you take and casts a demonic derisive stare.
My senses are now frozen in place as a deep chill shakes
My soul to the very core of its primordial existence as I
React to the cutting cold of a dawning maleficent darkness
Invading every corner and space of my psyche and existence.
The wicked jaws of a rabid beast seek now to bite and rip
All beauty from me and all thoughts I hold close and dear
As I gasp now for life and painfully feel my tired heartbeat
Slow as my immortal soul numbs and cries crocodile tears.
I’m cursed now to walk alone forever as my spilled remains
Are cut now and my ties of human existence have disappeared
Putting me on the ground on all fours as I ponder my ultimate
Fate in the hands of a supernatural force beyond any mercy.
As the shadow of Lucifer’s Blood Red Moon passes over my
Tortured face I spy a look at one demonic siren prompting me
Now to follow her as my body is placed on a sacrificial alter
And my life ebbs away as I’m kissed by spirits of the damned!
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – October 11, 2015
(Narrative Quatrain)
The melodic tinkle of the music box moved her.
She arose with her pretty tresses and floor length silk
toward the shadows that possess treasures of death.
Like a grandfather clock with metal prongs and teeth
it plays a lovely song that draws the gothic lass
into the abyss. Her temporal time harnessed
by a young girl’s dreamy track, “dum, dum, dum,
da, da, da, dum, dum…” In reminiscent fog
of childhood, Cassandra moves with the innocence
of a toddler, with the outward aplomb of a zombie.
When, at last, she is in the spiderweb, her senses
come around. She still can’t flee and the shadow
becomes a man, a thing, unthinkable - she recognizes
his hypnotic countenance, his eyes an unimaginable blue,
his face paler than a ghostly child, his cape - a shroud
about his shoulders. He hums, “dum, dum, dum,
da, da, da, dum, dum…” A guttural scream, she
recognizes vibrates from her own lips. The monster
allows the chase and caterwaul within his space.
Melancholy and madness, take hold, as her neck is bared
and she becomes one of the undead. Only released
from the melody’s hold, when she she sinks her teeth
into an innocent victim, but alas, she also is reminded
of her past life, so cold, she weeps. The progenitor laughs.
Count Dracula lives in my attic and he has a coffin for a bed.
He has bitten all of my family members and they're undead.
I've told many people but they don't believe my texts.
All of my family members are vampires and I'm next.
Dracula prowls during the night and returns before sunrise.
My family prowls with him but people think I'm telling lies.
I've kept the vampires away so far by locking my door and wearing garlic.
They haven't bitten me yet because they fear that I will make them sick.
I fear that sooner or later, I will be turned into a vampire.
I've looked online but I can't find a monster killer to hire.
I'm sick of hiding like a coward, I've had all that I can take.
I found a knife and I just got done carving a wooden stake.
Dracula is pounding very hard, he's trying to break down my door.
He has succeeded but I stabbed him through the heart and he just hit the floor.
Because Dracula was the original vampire, my family has died as well.
I feel so calm and relaxed because my life will no longer be a living hell.
At midnight each Halloween
scary scenes fill nightmare dreams.
And evil wanders unseen
lurking near the sound of screams.
Stepping outside of the box
I pondered on the undead.
And why zombies take these walks
filling hearts with fear and dread.
Freed from their graves, they're hidden
amidst the shadows of light.
And dine upon forbidden
morsels garnered from the night.
The breaking of nature's rules
spurs supernatural fears.
And motivates these foul ghouls
to be harbingers of tears.
With their moldy flesh rotting,
they feel no pleasure or pain.
And despite all their plotting,
they'll never live again.
An empty shell with no soul,
hunger drives these demon spawn.
For when they crawl from their hole,
it's live brains they feast upon.
(Quatrain)
10/3/2015