Spine chilling velocity
Willing feverish ferocity
Pollution spilling atrocity
Pushes our buttons
Top billing forging
Fiendish drilling pomposity
Gluttons gorging in the isles of muttons
Coining the term “purloining”
Plunder even here down under
Cast asunder..can hear the thunder
In the proud land of
The long white cloud
Scold from the fold to heal
But won’t listen..do a deal
Gaudy gems appeal..glisten
History sold for pieces of gold
Cower to phoney crony power
Dour Parasites roll the dice
Show pony baloney hour
Off their heads...now divining
Mining our whining sea beds..
Palaver of scour..devour and sour
Splice our shining slice of paradise
Vice rather than stories of glories told
Voraciously gobbling veracity
Audaciously hobbling precocity
Generosity wobbling even in the home
Of lengthy Cumulus Curiosity…
Not being funny
In this Land of Milk & Honey
Won’t kowtow to the cash cow
Getting out of hand
Because the answer forever
Whatever will never ever
Be just money!
Kill the Boer, kill the farmer
A song sung in a stadium by thousands
Reverberating a chorus of spine-chilling fear
A call to incite hatred and violence
Tomorrow, we mourn - another farmer
Umshini wami (my machine gun)
Paralysing fear runs through your soul
To wipe out the Boer and the farmer
A call to genocide, they cajole
Rat-a-tat, see how they run
There is no defence against this genocide
You must die, self-defence is a crime
Hundreds and thousands of crosses, erected
For the innocent these numbers climb
The Boer and Farmer in death abide.
Ice pops and cold brew in a gust,
twice shy but always I’m bitten;
Price is right for the richest high,
spice swirled in leaves a gal smitten;
Cheat code for a frosty blizzard,
treat black ice until it’s melting;
Heat isn’t just born in a fire,
beat that fever with spine-chilling.
I have never gotten used
to the sirens sound—
a heart-piercing shriek
as shrill as a wild pig’s.
A blood-numbing wail,
A spine-chilling, hair-raising cacophony
that always jarred my nerves;
It reminds me of a baby wailing
a grim reaper slashing someone’s throat
a rapist ripping apart his victim’s dress
an angry wife tearing her marriage certificate
a frustrated father tearing the will on his deathbed
a howling wind piercing the silent night…
these sirens sound seems to me more like the Siren’s call!
Phantom Phone Call
All Hallows Eve quickly approaches
With tales of crypts and ghostly coaches
When haunting spirits again roam
To sounds of chains and dirges of moans.
Amid this eerie spine-chilling time
Beloved mother prepares to die
Fragile link between Heaven and earth
Suddenly splits in her rebirth.
One final breath, one final sigh,
One final smile from her blue eyes
Now at midnight her spirit takes flight
Traveling light through darkest midnight.
The battle over – sweet warrior at rest
Home phone rings jarring mourning expressed
Familiar voice heard on the line – no trick -
“Child, this is your mother!” Click…
10-8-21
Contest: Something Spooky 8-16 lines Poem
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
The story is true story although timeframe has been altered. After mom died our home phone rang. It was past midnight. The voice on the other end of the line was mom’s voice. The call untraceable.
Rhymes checked with RhymeZone
Hobgoblin in the gutter under canopy of midnight,
magic brew of muti without rein.
Shadow figure torchon, darting half-light dare.
Spine chilling droplets wobble slowly down drains,
rusty copper mouthwash at the edge of jagged chutes.
Eerie urban soundscapes frame,
a sneeze or smothered cough.
Drone of vagrant motors probe, the flyby ink-black abyss.
Youthful laughter echoes over back streets,
as nearby lamp posts cast their bloodshot rays.
Night owls chinwag over Onion Bhaji,
raucous babble buried in a saffron whiff.
Strains of ragtime jazz and sleek arpeggios,
shrine or vinyl monument ahoy.
Hobo’s lonely whistle on an empty pier.
Urban jungle cast-off ghostly lurch,/
Burakumin patsy in high dudgeon.
Spooky timelines relish every moment of suspense,
swallowing the hush with ghoulish glee.
Quasimodo bell ring vaults a broomstick,
setter of alarm and wanton panic.
City wall clock twiddles on its hourly thumb,
scene plotter’s endless play denouement,
wee small hour dialogue without a script,
waiting for the dawn to take it’s baton.
I don't want to cause alarm
But your causing me much harm
With your love that you display
Every night and every day
I'm getting tingles head to toe
When your tight hugs start a flow
Of spine chilling feelings
That have got me reeling
My hearts thumping out of beat
Knowing you make me complete
Ears hot from you whispering
Cute loving and funny things
My heads spinning from flashbacks
Memories oozing from brain cracks
Knees are very wobbly
When your standing next to me
Lips are burning with desire
Your kisses are full of fire
See the damage you have caused
Please don't ever let it pause
The Grim Reaper calls; I invite him in with a smile
Halloween night, everyone’s wearing creepy costumes
Eerie figures are dancing round my bubbling cauldron
Guessing who is wearing each costume is difficult
Realistic blood drips down the fangs of one vampire!
I'm so impressed all my friends have made such an effort
Mummies, witches, ghosts and zombies are having such fun
Right on the stroke of midnight there’s a spine-chilling scream
Everyone bursts out laughing ... then we find a body
All eyes turn and see the Grim Reaper’s bloody scythe
Petrified party guests slink back into the shadows
Everyone removes their masks, all except one figure
Realisation dawns… The Grim Reaper was real!
Halloween Scare Contest
Sponsored by Russell Sivey
13 lines, 13 syllables per line - 169 in total checked with how many syllables
10-27-17
red-haired poltergeist
in a spine-chilling boneyard
a blood-spattered cape
10.15.17
Third place
"Halloween Senryu"
hosted by Laura Loo
Indeed, a strange wedding cake!
This is real strange, I must say.
You must absolutely hear this, I pray.
Almond marzipan, on stands masked with black chocolate;
Candy laces and ribbons made its beautiful garbs.
I ponder; why in God’s name, eat all these carbs!
Seriously, are these black Fondant roses I see here?
Quite an evolution from our traditional bride’s pie!
Well…what does this imply?
Dreading a wedding life with dark future
or does it symbolize breaking off with past lovers;
Invited surely to take the party's leftovers!
As the knife cut through innocent white,
dark jelly oozes out and trickles down the levels,
staining the spotless damask into perfect designs of devils!
Red marmalade takes its turn to flow down into rivulets.
The bride and the bridegroom poke a finger, each
to share it and I hear a spine chilling screech…
All I see is their demoniac grin as I make it to the exit!
22/02/17
Contest 'Relishing cake' by Julia Ward
8th prize out of 10 - Glory
Judged 7/03/17
Invariable measures find me concluded with torment.
Crystallized reflections peripherally surpass imaginations advent.
Crackling blisters intern vivid arbitration, as if to teach spine-chilling lessons.
Collapse goes hostage lungs, held up and recorded in air gasping sessions.
Constant ringing beneath definitions light concealed bag piped eye shadows haunting address.
All occurs timed perfectly for surprise panic attacks; choking on nothingness.
White vaporous visuals infiltrate what sight left remains.
Useless kicking and screaming ended then when normalcy fathomed midst windowed pains.
Feelings numb agony crippled sightless time; acoustic sound walls burrow.
Vines manifest scandalous intent, my surrounded record beckons such growth still; you expect me to feel sorrow.
12/09/16
By Kerinth Campbell
Ahhhhhhhhh!
Nerve shattering
Spine chilling
Teeth chattering
Feet unwilling.
High pitched
Ghoulish delight
Screams!
More screams
In the foreboding night
Low and ominous
Rising moans
Screams!
Inhuman baleful groans
Cackling, evil
Gleeful pleasure
Groans
Moans
Screams
Without measure
To a crescendo
Lowering to a suspense
Rising
Rising
Rising
Building up again
Ahhhhhhhhh!
Drowning in the knowledge
That change is inevitable
Afraid that your decision might backfire
What can be more spine-chilling?
Is the fact
That not making the change will
Lead you to a point of frustration
Discontentment
In the end to stagnate is also a choice
It also has a consequence
©134315012015
Throwing the wreath
across the river
after the canal rapture ?
Does it look eerie ?
Yes it was spine-chilling
to see. The band went on
to play:
‘nearer to island’.
There was a pause.
Then a question.
The black space was done for.
The hatching. A plot ?
Upstaging a snowstorm
falling in someone’s lap
with white roses.
In cracked dry mud
an unclenched fist
deconstructs a map.
Satish Verma
Breathtaking,
long tall stalks,
like a ladder,
tiny buds in thy thoughts,
array of colors,
pink through to yellow,
the buds one fine murky morning,
stay in mourning,
until the sun rises,
the Gladioli surprises,
it awakens after dawn,
to a massive spawn,
of Gerbera's to accompany.
Each morning when one arises,
it's often to a vase full of surprises,
through the foul smelling water,
it's one more bud that does not falter,
such a fragile and delicate look,
almost to afraid to touch,
such spine chilling beauty right before my eyes,
the delicate bloom,
the pastel shade of color,
makes my mind wander,
field's of beauty and splendor,
is to one a tremendous reminder,
of the beauty, vision and dreams we encounter.
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