Long Werewolf Poems

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


Premium Member One Couple Of Days

One couple, of days long past
Got married on Halloween 
Their wedding dance the monster mash
Was so funny it was a scream

She steps her heels on his shoes
Two left feet the bride has
He a werewolf howls confused
A happy groom wasn’t mad

She a witch so pessimistic 
Decided to ditch her pumps
He howling has a fetish fit
he saw green toes with bumps

Love is brewing with these two
He bends his knee kisses toes
She’s wise as a delighted fool
When he rises kisses his nose

His groomsmen are very happy 
Her bridesmaids cry with joy
She loves his fur being nappy
For straight hair makes her annoyed 

Their wedding a big success 
Was the biggest party indeed
They failed only to warn the guest
Of the risks of Halloween
Form: Rhyme


Howling At the Moon

Howling at the Moon

I stood outside
Between the trees
In a field 
On the outside of town

Beneath the lunatic rays
Of the blood-red full moon

The lunatic lights of the moon
Casts a wild primeval glow
On me

The hormonal chemicals are unleashed
The wild beast within
Escapes it chain

And I howl with delight
A werewolf
Free at last

To run amuck
Free of its civilized restrains
Throwing off its clothes
Stripping naked

Running wild
Naked and free
A wild man
Enjoying his freedom

As I sit 
Under the lunatic light of the full moon
Of the blood-red lights of the moon
Full of wild passions
The lustful beast stirs again

And starts running and running
Howling at the moon
Riding into the new dawn
On a demented Harley Davis cycle
With two naked babes on his back

Riding into the moon
90 miles per second
At the speed of thought
He disappears into the lunatic light
Of the full moon

And I wake up
Alone,
In my bed
Saying, man, that was quite a night
I better not go there again

The wild beast
Laughs 
He has heard that before

And I join him
In howling at the moon
© Jake Aller  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Full Moon

I was nervous on that first date
 On that summer eve in June
  When we strolled hand in hand 
 Beneath a crescent moon

 She told me Luna had a spell on her
    And with that I did agree
 She said it filled her with romantic charms
  I said it brought out the beast in me

    She thought I meant a tiger
  But little did she know
      I'd soon reveal my secret
   When the full moon glowed
 
  Everything was going fine
    We got along quite well
 I thought she was divine
   She thought of me as swell

 But things went awry that August night
  When she got a fright,
  The stars were strewn across a velvet sky
      And the full moon was in sight!

 That's when my secret I did reveal in the full moon's gleam,
    Right before her eyes, I turned into a werewolf!
       She bolted from me that night, I still can hear her scream
          I just stood there like a hairy goon
               Howling at the moon
                        ...
2/15/17
 Theme: Becoming a Werewolf
© Joseph May  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Endangered Horror Species Zoo, Part Iii

...So why do we keep ghosts in here
when by the day many folks die?
Well, you see, it’s technology,
it tears them apart from the inside.
Since they are merely energy
all the fields from our gadgets and toys
scatter their essence all about,
it’s a fate free ghosts can’t avoid.
These ones here we were lucky to save,
and we need to find more all the time,
some go to heaven, others to hell,
each morn we know not what we’ll find!

Nearby is the mummy’s lair,
and it causes controversy,
some say that they shouldn’t be here,
that they are just dressed-up zombies.
Others claim it’s a magic thing,
which makes them a whole other clade,
I honestly don’t’ care that much,
the people come see them in spades.
Some were even Egyptian pharaohs,
though which, we’re not really sure,
professors have tried to talk to them,
to see what history they can learn.
Hollywood has rented them out
for their movies, and they pay so well,
sometimes they seem to try to speak,
though what they say, no one can tell.
Most people like to hear them moan,
like they did in the films of old,
did you know mummies really do that?
And if they catch you they’ll grab hold?
Sadly, they do not do much more.
We don’t see them often these days,
not many folks still mummify,
and the old ones have been grave-robbed,
in the wild they don’t survive.
Keeping them stocked up with linen
makes all the zookeeper’s tired,
but let’s down to the big show,
the place where we keep the vampires.
Now these guys are a unique case,
since they’re not critters, but our guests,
they’re sentient like human beings,
to lock them would be to oppress.
We build them big apartments here,
with a back-room facing the zoo,
we pay them to visit with folks,
and tell lots of stories to you.
Since vampires are immortal
so many great tales can they share,
want to know how Jesus Christ died?
Well our guy Julius was there!
They can leave any time of course,
some of them even punch the clock.
Wilhelm is a security guard,
walks the night shift like any cop.
Some thing, but won’t he feed on folks?
It hasn’t been that was for years,
since transfusions and blood banks came
there has been no reason to fear.
They no longer had to kill people,
staying alive didn’t mean murder,
they’d get their pints, go on their way,
no reason to bite folks or disturb...

CONCLUDES IN PART IV.
Form: Narrative

Praise Zing a Fully Functioning Sphincter Muscle

**** lies zing constipation
     nothing to poo poo about,
cuz when bedeviled by
     colorectal obstruction 
     without wasted doubt,
that malodorous, 
     malevolent malady
     analogous to uranus

     clogged with grout,
whereat no heroic
     efforts break loose,
     the severely obstructed bowel,
thus spurring determined, 
     desperate derriere plea
     for proctologist sought
     to relieve constipation

     equipped with a special
     "J" shaped, hooked,
     and designed dowel
in an effort
     to pry stoppage
     jamming up human cloaca,
     where rock solid stubborn
     immovable turd emits foul

gaseous emanations accompanied
     with ass a nine growl
followed by red hot,
     fiery excruciating spasms
     shooting jagged pain
     inducing yours truly to access,
     the werewolf within howl,
where a preference for sciatica,

     would be pleasant reprieve
along heinie kin cheeky jowl,
     thence finding me
     resorting to peeve
hush scream therapy,
     which wrought nothing,
     no pain did re: leave
me bummed out bum,

     but veins snapping,
     popping, and crackling,
     oye how aye did grieve
plus a bajillion
     gallons of perspiration,
     while lower gastrointestinal
     agonizing torture didst cleave

entire abdominal 
     area please believe
without aforementioned crisis,
     and feeble poem,
     I could not achieve.


Premium Member Through the Trees

I hear something in the night, I sense something on the ground.
I feel something in the air, I know something is around.
I stop and listen to the leaves, I can hear the beating of my heart.

The moon light shines through the trees, I see something move about.
I move slowly toward the shape moving through the trees.
I hear desperation and fear, smell sweat in the breeze.

I hear a crack of branch, a painful scream.
I tear away the branch, it falls to its knees.
It turns to see, it screams.
It crawls along the floor, tears whimpering painful wheeze!

I put it out of its misery.

This werewolf needs to feed.

Monsters Planned Halloween Night

(10/6/11) Halloween

Let me give an update of Halloween night
When Freddie Krueger and Jason got into a fight.
Blood was flying all around
Yet not one of them made a sound.
Their instruments of death as sharp as can be
And the ending - no one could foresee.

They were joining forces for Halloween night
Since all the Halloween crowd would be waiting for them
Because at midnight the scaring would end.
Now that all the revelers were here
They would plan their rants and jeers.

FREDDIE would pull them out of bed
Then the GRIM REAPER would cut off their heads
Then DRACULA would suck them dry
And their bodies the goblins would hide.

The GHOSTS and WITCHES decided to do their thing
And the frightened victims they would bring.
The GHOULS and WEREWOLF would roam the alleyways
To ensure those that were hidden would not stay.

Now there was FRANKIE, the MUMMY , JASON , 
and the GOBLINS too
They’d hide in the shadows waiting for you.
FRANKIE ,the MUMMY, and JASON were all slow walkers
But they was great as shadow stalkers.
The GOBLINS would trip them to the ground
And jump on them before they could make a sound.  

To the graveyard at midnight they would go
Man oh man ! What a wonderful show.
To their places of eternal rest, till next year
When they’ll do their best.
Look at that cemetery and you will see
That this is where they have to be.
© Louis Rams  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Made up Story

Everyone was fine until they ate the last slice. 
Before the sugar was poured twice. 
Lastly, it’s horrible like general sweating. 
Waiting and regretting. 
Everyone had fur, like a werewolf. 
I had nothing except a hat from golf. 
Cranky portraits on the wall. 
I somehow used to be tall. 
Until the shrink ray passed through. 
And everything turned blue. 
Everyone was fine before the rubber bands got pulled. 
The shrink ray got sold. 
The hour glass sand got taller than me. 
Yet, I can still see. 
Everyone was fine until they tore the last slice. 
When they tore off my layers twice.
Form: Rhyme

The Transformation

even if a man say's his prayers
every single night
still theres nothing that can stop
the coming fright
the constant building
from day to night

it stays with you, always there
somewhere inside you
you know not where
a hunger that ravages!
morals and cares
it catches it's victim
no matter where

evening comes
it's time for the change
from man into werewolf
that cannot be chained

unleashed not unto the world
but into his own little cage
locking the world out
keeping visitors at bay

he wakes up sober
the feeling has passed
he says to himself 
this must not last

yet every morning brings new hope
and plans of; not today, not today
but his body has it's own plans
and always, always gets it's way


(About me? Told you I was diviously smart.)
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member WWIII

It’s 2022, we’re in the final battle for the soul of the world.
There is no Indo-European root for soul,
the Greek and Germanic roots mean quick-moving, fleeting, mercurial.
I’d add evanescent, impermanent, ephemeral 
disappearing, diminishing, dwindling 
tenuous, brief, short-lived.
Whatever forever—that’s where we’ll be after WWIII.

World, home, think, breathe: man,
woman the vital force in man, the Anthropocene, men together 
violence, virtue, virility. Also, werewolf.
War: to confuse, mix up, make worse.
The old are paying close attention but my sons ignore the thunder, 
plate tectonics, gamma ray bursters and mortars on the Eurasian front. 
Peace out—the end, limit, boundary, never to have been. So long,
       sayonara, shalom, salaam. Take into eternity my hail and farewell.
Form: Verse

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