By Jennifer Wong
On certain nights they come back, ghost story fragments lodged in my head from midnight taxi rides. ...
Explore Poems: Horror
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- By L. M. RiveraWhen the home is no more When the mother's negative light goes also When solitude rips the door from...
- By John KinsellaI have gorged on a glorious dose of poison.—Triple blessings on the advice that was proffered!—My guts...
- By Alan DuganWhy feel guilty because the death of a lover causes lust? It is only an animal urge to perpetuate the...
- By Lo Kwa Mei-EnWhen the mirror swings open, it calls me obscenely shapely. A ruby wing slaps the glass. Soft smear. Since, like the drowning...
- By Sy HoahwahSevered finger of a convicted murderer uncurls like a waking pet. Demonic compass points toward the ...
- By Ray GonzálezYes, I am a body of rags lying here on the bridge waiting for a hot rain to wash me open, dissolve me...
- By John MasefieldHere, in this darkened room of this old house, I sit beside the fire. I hear again, Within, the scutter...
- By Emily BerryIn the nighttime house I don’t know where you are My allegiances could change How can I stop my allegiances...
- By Aase BergWill haul this gelatinous body, will lash forward this non-form, will push this organism of gas through...
- By Roger ReevesA Lowcountry marsh trembles with the blood of an African Who refused to climb out of the salt and mud...
- By Juliana Spahrthis is true a man in an alley grabbed my arm this is true someone called me and left the phone dangling...
- By Martín EspadaOn the road to Taos, in the town of Alcalde, the bronze statue of Juan de Oñate, the conquistador, kept...
- By Erika L. SánchezThey call it the corner of heaven: a laboratory, a foot at the throat of an empire. Before the holy ...
- By Edgar Allan PoeIt was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know...
- By Edgar Allan PoeOnce upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume...
- By Edgar Lee MastersI was only eight years old; And before I grew up and knew what it meant I had no words for it, except...
- By Marie PonsotThe big doll being broken and the sawdust fall all scattered by my shoes, not crying I sit in my dark...
- By Isaac RosenbergNudes—stark and glistening, Yelling in lurid glee. Grinning faces And raging limbs Whirl over the floor...
- By Thomas JamesThey are skimming the lake with wooden hooks. Where the oak throws its handful of shadows Children are...