This week: Creepy Poems for OctoberEdited by: Lilli Munster ☕
More Newsletters By This Editor
1. About this Newsletter
2. A Word from our Sponsor
3. Letter from the Editor
4. Editor's Picks
5. A Word from Writing.Com
6. Ask & Answer
7. Removal instructions
When people think of poetry, most often they think of a romantic, meaningful genre of writing within which people can express their deep wells of love, admiration, and longing.
Well, this week we are not going to talk about that poetry. The creepy poetry below proves that poetry doesn't have to be cute and that, like any creative form, it can be used in any number of ways. In this case, poetry is used to create dark, unnerving stories and scenarios, none of which are even remotely pleasant.
These poems aren't all about monsters and death. That would be too easy. Sometimes what's really creepy is saying stuff that sounds real, stuff that you may have thought about or wondered at some point in your life. They play with our minds and leave us stunned and confused. You may not love all of these poems, but you (probably) can't deny that they stand out from the crowd.
I can't guarantee that you'll get chills, but I'm willing to bet that at least one of these poems will catch you for a minute.
I Felt a Funeral, in my Brain
by Emily Dickinson
"I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading – treading – till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through –
And when they all were seated,
A Service, like a Drum –
Kept beating – beating – till I thought
My mind was going numb –
And then I heard them lift a Box
And creak across my Soul
With those same Boots of Lead, again,
Then Space – began to toll,
As all the Heavens were a Bell,
And Being, but an Ear,
And I, and Silence, some strange Race,
Wrecked, solitary, here –
And then a Plank in Reason, broke,
And I dropped down, and down –
And hit a World, at every plunge,
And Finished knowing – then –"
Her Strong Enchantments Failing
by A. E. Housman
Her strong enchantments failing,
Her towers of fear in wreck,
Her limbecks dried of poisons
And the knife at her neck,
The Queen of air and darkness
Begins to shrill and cry,
'O young man, O my slayer,
To-morrow you shall die.'
O Queen of air and darkness,
I think 'tis truth you say,
And I shall die tomorrow;
But you will die to-day.
by Hughes Mearns
Yesterday, upon the stair,
I met a man who wasn't there
He wasn't there again today
I wish, I wish he'd go away...
When I came home last night at three
The man was waiting there for me
But when I looked around the hall
I couldn't see him there at all!
Go away, go away, don't you come back any more!
Go away, go away, and please don't slam the door... (slam!)
Last night I saw upon the stair
A little man who wasn't there
He wasn't there again today
Oh, how I wish he'd go away...
Looking for a contest to enter your spooky poetry?
Submit an item for consideration in this newsletter!
Have an opinion on what you've read here today? Then send the Editor feedback! Find an item that you think would be perfect for showcasing here? Submit it for consideration in the newsletter!
Don't forget to support our sponsor!
To stop receiving this newsletter, click here for your newsletter subscription list. Simply uncheck the box next to any newsletter(s) you wish to cancel and then click to "Submit Changes". You can edit your subscriptions at any time.