Long Zombie Poems
Long Zombie Poems. Below are the most popular long Zombie by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Zombie poems by poem length and keyword.
She nodded to the fishman, 'a zombie is in here',
He headed to the door so it would be more clear.
It was the last of the zombies told to the ectoplasmic man,
He was tied to a chair so couldn't even stand.
The zombie spoke the name of Huntley,
Then his head exploded rather timely.
Off they drove to find this man in the monestary,
It was late and dark, and awfly scary.
The path to the chapel was filled with more zombies?!?
Their guns took them down with the breeze!
Robert Huntley, 'hahahahahaha', loudly laughed!
He had dug up the grave within the building's draft.
Possessed he was with a skeleton necklace,
Then tranqualized down by the B.P.R.D. wreckless.
Yegor Kurya was the one to possess,
But his day would end with his bones six-foot caressed!
Wednesday, January 12, 2022
A Ghost Story Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Angela Tune
Story poetized from 'Another Day At the Office', Mike Mignola
stone keeps rolling,
smoke gets higher,
passing through his system.
running mind wild and free.
changing one into zombie.
pulse beats faster.
ants become monster.
weak gets stronger.
world turns smaller.
once you'd hook,
no ending.
things are worsen,
when smoke gets high.
** 6th Place Winner in PD's Contest: Any Poem #22 **
I met a strange man walking through the cemetery
He said, “Hey, If you’ll listen, I’ll tell you a ghost story”
I replied, “Those are dull.” He said, “On the Contrary!”
Then yelled “BOO” in my face. For that, he would be sorry
What he didn’t know, was that his tale of the grave
Was one I knew all too well from my own current state
And after his not so clever prank, it was time to misbehave
Besides, nothing I did now would change my current fate
I walked right through him, levitated, made some spooky faces
Did all the things the books say, to give him quite a jolt
He didn’t run or shake in fear as he put me through my paces
Just stood there with a crooked smirk, looking like a dolt
The issue with this failed haunting, is not for lack of trying
Or that the ghost in this lack of gory story happens to be me
But the fact that not only I was guilty, of being bored of dying
I guess it takes a little more, to get a rise out of a zombie
#5. A Ghost Story
July 26, 2022
One in 5 2 poetry contest
Sponsored by Joseph May
I've felt this way countless times,
So confused and alone with no one to help.
For long hours I sat dejected,
Moping as if in solitary confinement.
I wallowed in the fog of depression,
Unable to see what stood before me.
All my relatives had disappeared,
Some to foreign lands, others dead and buried.
How could I break the spell
That leads towards a happier life?
O Lord what have you done to me?
That’s when I heard the toll of muffled bells,
A soft, happy though repetitive motive.
Happy memories of old melodies surfaced
From the dull corridors of my confused mind.
I dressed and like a zombie drove to the small chapel.
I wondered what I was doing there.
What could I do in an almost empty church?
I sat in an old pew and looked around.
A handful of women sat hunched down.
It was the end of service or whatever it was.
The woman filed out silently.
Except one, a young red-haired woman
Who sat stiff and looking nowhere.
Suddenly she left the chapel and hurried off.
I followed and saw her slip in the pathway.
She felt faint and somehow I got her to ER.
Strange she had no one to take care of her.
Two lonely souls in a smelly hospital.
I took her hand and vowed: I’ll take care of her myself.
Will she be in a good mood or will it be bad?
Will she be overjoyed today, or will she be sad?
This yo-yo effect has me in such turmoil,
Never knowing if I can be myself or if its time to recoil.
Sinking into an ever growing black abyss,
Its the upbeat, smiling, wise ass that I really miss.
Take a pill to make you relax and be stress free,
Take another one for Bi-polar and you're a zombie.
I know life sucks right now, with stress at an all time high.
It doesn't help that someone left holes in you and now you don't even try.
Haven't we been through enough the last three or four years?
Do you really have to be so depressed and add to my fears?
I miss my friend, who smiled more, laughed and always had a joke.
Its sad to see a crumpled, lifeless, hollow shell who is broke.
What can I do to get you out of this deep, dark cave?
If we don't get you some help, I fear its an early grave.
I'd gladly take back the girl who makes me laugh so hard I pee,
Being so silly that tears run down my face and I can't breathe.
I miss you, come back and don't be sad, moody and terribly glum.
What will it take, sexy men, kids, Marilyn Manson or a bottle of rum?
I know you think I'm mean and I just get irritated to complain.
But that's not the case, to see you miserable causes me great pain.
Just tell how to make it better, tell me how to make it go away please!
I want my friend back, I'm begging and pleading, I'm on my knees!
We cured death on a Tuesday,
launched the trial on a Thursday,
by Friday, 14% of the test group
was gnawing on the janitorial staff.
Still, the press was kind.
“Remarkable resilience,” they wrote,
as Unit 42A chewed through its restraints,
and tried to bite a cameraman.
We called them SoulSavers™,
engineered for eternal youth,
a proprietary blend of nanites, CRISPR,
and just a dash of hubris.
ReVive™ hit the market with glowing ads:
"Because Forever is a Family Value."
But the legal fine print… oh, the fine print:
May cause mild memory loss, spontaneous moaning, and cannibalistic cravings.
They rose in boardrooms first,
CEOs with perfect teeth
tearing into interns
like gourmet hors d'oeuvres.
By Q3, the infection was global,
but stocks soared--
because someone monetized the mayhem,
packaged brains in biodegradable boxes.
The living now hide in Costco bunkers,
bartering soup for silence,
while ReVive™’s jingle
plays softly from every abandoned screen:
“You can’t spell ‘afterlife’ without 'life'--
Sign here, and live again!”
So yes, we cured death.
We also cured peace.
And now we walk among the ruins,
clawing for comfort,
with half a heart and half a face,
still under warranty.
Author's Note:
This poem is what happens when you read Tom Woody’s contest prompt and accidentally engage the undead half of your brain. It’s a free verse romp through biotech gone wrong, corporate chaos, and a sprinkle of satire. No contest entry--just undead fun.
I entered the game…
And was confronted with Wraith
It was my job to avoid the Death Shriek
Which I did
But next came the Gargoyle
Which was elemental
I slid from his tactics
An undead Ghoul approached me
Must look out for his bites and claws
Then with an attack of +7
Came the Rat Swarm
I fought for the experience points
Oh no vermin! Spider
The web is the worst
Can you even believe an undead Zombie
Armor class is 11
Reptile; Kobold Skirmisher
Damage only one
My greatest fear…
The Blazing Skeleton
But my dice tops well
The skeleton only though
Has scimitar and slice
Yielding two experience points!
And lastly is the wolf
With bite or pounce
It’s okay. I’ll defeat him too.
And win this game.
Just yesterday I saw a Spirit Store sign
(for those that may not know, Spirit Stores
pop-up just for the halloween season,
then disappear Halloween is on it's way
for another year
THUS
The Zombie Cafe is Now serving
We are preparing for lunch
And expecting a bunch
Of regulars, if they are able
To sit when they're called
In our dinning hall
And my mummy, will wait on their table
The menu includes
What description eludes
But it's something
I caught out at sea
It is certainly fresh
Cause I killed it myself
Out of fear, that it might have killed me.
Dig-in without malice
And I'll fill your chalice
With juices I squeezed from its Fin
And when you have finished
And the creature diminished
It'll be time to start cooking again.
Chef Zack the Zombie Dude
A respectable girl was she; or so she appeared to be
Living alone in her dear little cottage at number seventy three
Each day she left home bright and early, as she walked to the railway station
Awaiting the train she would ponder upon her total transmogrification
Travelling first class to London, dressed in a suit and leather brogues
She was the picture of respectability, but nobody really knows
Heading straight for the club in Soho, where she was paid to perform
Descending the stairs, she took a deep breath, as she completely transformed
Into a girl named Sinitta, where dirty old men queued to meet her
She danced with seven fans and with carefully positioned hands
In her copper coloured wig, for she had nothing else to hide behind
Dancing in a trance, she would escape to her unconscious mind
She danced her eyes shut tightly, giving a zombie like display
Her only way of getting through the dance each working day
Whilst traveling home she calculated monies she would earn
For she had reached her breaking point; it was the point of no return
All monies that she’d earnt so far, went to support her dearest Ma
In the best asylum she could find; for sweet dear souls who’d lost their mind
Written 31st October 2018
Contest No 512
Sponsor Brian Strand
1st placement
Come we're gonna have a party wear a costume bring your cat
The cauldrons ready so don't tardy bring your Hocus Pocus hat
Grab some munchies at the door moaning sounds all that gore
It is Aldo playing Rambo, with scary spiders, hiders , ..more
Watch my red horns battery start they are bought in WallyMart
Go ahead scream or screech but for heaven sakes don't fart !
Moon is grinning ear to ear but don't fear, its eyeball leer
Zombie stomps and gettish romps, Halloween is here to peer
Riser ghosts in scary training with their chit-chit chitty fangs
Bow to Satan and his laughs, he's a bad ass dude with bangs
Come on join the party, we got so much willies and dillies
we're gonna get drunk on red koolaid and smoke ciggies
Grab the coffin shaped candy from the grab bag join the clomp
gonna take it to the limit and do a Michael Jackson swamp ....
Come were gonna gave a party and we're gonna scare a ton
Be the door nails and the hinges, of this Halloween of fun.
October 25, 2018