Horror poetry

Good question.

I personally do not nor have I tried to do horror poetry. I just never gave it a thought. For me, just to do the 100 word flash stories is tuff, let alone to do a poem. Hats off to those that can pull it off.

I've written and published horror poetry. It's one of my biggest sellers, actually. Granted, poetry is a hard sell any day of the week, as is horror, so pairing the two makes the sales even tougher. But yes, in short, horror poetry is something that I do.

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Yes I write Horror poetry, seems odd don't it . . .

Here you go . . . .


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Lover's Lament

The moon’s knowledge shines your eyes.
I become lost in other angles.
The silver blue gleam on that sullen husk,
an actress of ludicrous attraction.

Is this the end, oh infinite bliss?
Have you quit this plane for others?
Are we angels of the sweet promise?
Of these things please let me know.

Do you ponder still, see me as I am?
Is your vision gone with my heart?
Can you feel my longing dear one?
This doubt torments my thoughts.

Quiet here now angel,
My dagger made this so.
I have your vessel here forever
waiting for your return.

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I attempt to write Canadian Gothic poetry... which is some kind of horror sub-genre or something. Mostly in the form of epyllions.

This is probably a given, but if you haven't read them already, you should leave rightnow.thissecond.immediately and go get yourself a volume of Poe's poetry. The Raven is one of the best examples of terrifying poetry ever written, and he has some other goodies too, the names of which currently elude me in my sleep deprived state.

Personally, I used to focus on writing poetry, now I focus on writing horror, and yet rarely have I combined the two (and never effectively). Certainly that's a project for a rainy day

Here's one I've always associated with the horror hounds:

[SIZE=+1]From Childhood's Hour[/SIZE]
Edgar Allan Poe

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then—in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life—was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent or the fountain,
From the red cliff or the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed my flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.

i dislike poetry.

that being said I like Tom Piccirilli and hear good things about "This Cape is Red Because I've been Bleeding"

quicklime said:

i dislike poetry.

Click to expand...

Huh?

Charles Farley said:

Huh?

Click to expand...

never grabbed me; sorry.

never had the classes to be taught an appreciation of it, either.

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Fair enough.

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There's also the poetry by Robert Service, especially The Cremation of Sam McGee.

I actually have a horror poetry collection being release in September.

By own opinion...when it's done right, it can be phenomenal. But after a while, you get tired of reading horror poems about the undead and how dark your despair is...