Murder Mystery Poems

Horror show

Jill Nando hosted "Crimewatch" a TV show
She was shot dead, who did it we don't know.
Lot of cases not solved, not even all crimes known
Keep a low profile or enter a danger zone.

Plutonium was found in Karen Silkwood's refrigerator
She was a whistleblower, did her company hate her?
She died a few days later in a fatal

Who Killed the MC?

Who killed the MC?
There he lay, splayed on the street
Chalk outlined mic and fist
A broken clock reads four past nine 
Tatters of a golden thread left at the scene 

Who gained from his silence?
Streets alive with revelation 
Anarchic fire in the air 
They’re coming for us with their rhymes 
Gentlemen this isn’t what we had

Devilment is Afoot

Leaves of the oak trees congregated in clumps of whispering soldiers
A devilment was afoot; the fey felt this and scurried to the meadow.
Someone was dragging a heavy sack into the darkest shadows.
The night shuddered, recognizing the evilness of the scoundrel.

Perfect place to hide a body, most agreed. Those who were brave to look.
Others hid behind

The Wicked Live On

In twilight's hush, where shadows play,
A paradox reigns, in endless sway,
The good perish, while the wicked thrive,
In this land, where virtue's brief, and vice survives.

Patriots fall, like autumn's leaves,
Assassinated, poisoned, for their noble deeds,
Their voices silenced, before their time,
As darkness feeds on justice's prime.

Bola Ige, Barnabas Igwe, Marshall Harry too,
Ogbonnaya Uche, Ken Saro-Wiwa, and more,

Monday a mourning day

Oh greatness, the king of days 
You look so tired and stressed
Are there no maids in the race?
You acquired so much torture in quest
They violated you for your good ways
Great man full of honour, and no stress
You began encountering their riotic pace
Who killed the your power to test
You had believed in acquiring grace 
Now that

Blood on the Hearth

In the cozy inn by the fire's warm glow
Lies a woman's body, lifeless and cold
Her hair splayed out, like flames in the hearth
But no fire could warm her, not even in death

The guests all gather, hushed whispers abound
As they try to make sense of this tragedy profound
Who could have done such a heinous crime?
In this

Murders in Mumford Part 1

A love twisted in a high school romance,
Both fixated on puppy dog eyes,
Skipping classes followed by lies,
Predictions to never be seperated,
Only as much as parents tolerated,
They would run if given the chance,

Upon a mellow river rusted a louring mill,
Dim lit repairs by a scarecrow of a man,
Alongside the river it was a small span,
As skeletal

The Last Stop

It starts with a hiss and a screech
as the murder train pulls in at the station
Its cars painted black its windows darkened
by the secrets and sins of every nation

The conductors smile is twisted and cruel
his cold dead eyes collecting his fare
Passengers board with a sense of dread
knowing they soon will be beyond repair

The train lurches

Monster

• Open a fridge door and see
• The monster I grew up to be
• Joe from next door is in parts
• He disappeared the night I was playing darts
• Frozen in place from shock?
• I'll push you off the dock
• Peep at me through the window?
• I'll turn your wife into a widow

A Perfect Murder

I stabbed 
straight into her heart
then wiggled the knife,
twisted and turned.
The blood oozed out
covering the blade and
my hand in scarlet red.

She gave a blood-curdling 
shriek and moaned.
She looked at me with sheer terror,
There was a crazy look 
in my inflamed eyes
My chest was all puffed up
and heaving badly
My body trembling with pent-up rage
I gave her

The Enigma

    Raking in yet another pot
       the enigma had won an awful lot 

    Then a premature bid to leave
       served him right in the temple
           

Never Will I Unsee

I simply did not understand 

It was completely out of my hand 

Looking in from the outside 

Eyes and mouth open wide 

Never will l unsee

Etched in my mind eternally 

bottom

red box in the window,
inside a black widow
playing this fiddle tune,
heartbreak to be consumed.

she is not some honey,
she is not for money,
she’s just kinda hungry,
for your body and mind.

in the nighttime moonlight,
when the orb blinks outloud,
this is where you’ll find her_
that lovemaking neon sound.

Murdered

Oh, frightful word scribed at the end
The finger-painting mannequin
Composed a message to his love,
From ink he’d made of his own blood!

Sanguinary Kiss

ensnared by such mere prosaic prattle
drawn eye to eye by an enigmatic placid damsel
cryptic conundrum swathed in the shroud
materialized the ballroom corner in a cloud
her gaze unblinking and unwavering no restraints
creature exempt from the humanly constraints
human physiology out for all to see, pure bare
the maiden, now standing nose to nose with me
tilted her neck emitting

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