Creepy poems

Death Poems

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening


Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Because I could not stop for Death
Because I could not stop for Death
He kindly stopped for me
The Carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the School, where Children strove
At recess in the ring
We passed the fields of gazing grain
We passed the setting sun.

Or rather, he passed us
The dews drew quivering and chill
For only Gossamer, my gown
My tippet only tulle.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground.
The roof was scarcely visible
The cornice in the ground.

Since then 'tis centuries and yet
Feels shorter than the DAY
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.

Not Waving but Drowning
Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him
his heart gave way, they said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
Still the dead one lay moaning
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.



Burning Eyes

When the busy day is done,
And my weary little one
Rocks so gently to and fro;
When the night winds softly blow,
And the crickets in the glen
Chirp and chirp and chirp again;
When upon the haunted bay
Devils dance around their prey
Then from yonder misty skies
Comes the thing with burning eyes.

Through the murk and mist and gloam
To our quiet, cozy home,
Where to singing, sweet and low,
Rocks a cradle to and fro;
Where the clock's dull monotone
Tells us that the day is done;
Where the moonbeams hover o'er
Playthings sleeping on the floor -
Where my weary wee one lies
Comes the thing with burning eyes.

It comes like a fleeting ghost
From some distant creepy coast;
And no footsteps will you hear
As that beast draws ever near
Not a whisper, not a word
From that fearful thing is heard.
By the pale moon's eerie light,
With a heart that's full of spite
In the depths of darkened skies
Comes the thing with burning eyes.

With flapping wings it comes upon
My dear weary little one,
And those claws do outward spread
To clasp the little curly head,
Seem to fondle and caress
Every little silken tress;
Then she smooths the eyelids down
Over those two eyes of brown -
In such soothing, tender wise
Comes the thing with burning eyes.

Dearest, feel upon your brow
That caressing magic now;
For the crickets in the glen
Chirp and chirp and chirp again,
When upon the haunted bay
Devils dance around their prey
And the moonbeams hover o'er
Playthings sleeping on the floor -Hush, my sweet! from yonder skies
Comes the thing with burning eyes.



House on a Lake


This is a story that will keep you awake,
About a boy and his father and a house on a lake.
The house on the lake was eerie and cold
With a secret within, until now never told.

The little boy's name is Arthur Pale
And he is the subject of this horrible tale.

As Arthur got ready for bed that first night,
He felt in his bones something wasn't quite right.
So he climbed into bed and lay very still.
Then he heard a strange sound that made him feel ill.

He lay in his bed too scared even to scream,
Hoping the whole thing was only a dream.
Then from beneath his bed came a noise.
A noise that would frighten the bravest of boys.

"I am the Saurus and this is my bed.
Any that slept here have ended up dead.
If you want me to eat you, then of course you can stay.
If you want to live longer, then run far away."

Arthur screamed out, "Daddy come quick!"
His father rushed in fearing Arthur was sick.
"There's a monster under my bed," the boy cried.
His father, half-smiling, looked at Arthur and sighed.

"There aren't any monsters living under your bed
It's just your imagination from somthing you've read
So go back to sleep as it's a quarter past one.
You'll be grumpy tomorrow and that won't be fun."

Arthur wasn't consumed by the monster that night.
He woke the next day trusting his father was right.
It was all just a dream, as his father had said,
So he pulled back the duvet and jumped out of bed.

Arthur played in the garden for five hours or more.
He played hide-and-seek with his friend from next door.
The boys played all day until the sun left the sky.
It was now getting quite late so the friend said goodbye.

Arthur went straight to bed and fell asleep right away,
Exhausted by the hours of vigorous play.
But soon, he awoke with a chill in his bones,
Fearing the worst, he was no longer alone

Wasting no time, he cried out in fear,
Praying his father was able to hear.
In a matter of seconds he was there in the room,
Saving his son from imminent doom.

His father said, "Arthur you really must rest.
You've got school in the morning and a numeracy test.
There aren't any monsters, they're just tricks of the light.
And he gave him a hug and he kissed him goodnight.

Again came the Saurus from under the bed.
"You did not take heed to the warning," he said.
"If you're still here tomorrow, I'll eat you without fail,
And no one will see you again, Arthur Pale."

In the morning poor Arthur was in total despair.
He was going to be eaten and that didn't seem fair.
He must make his father believe in his plight,
That the Saurus might eat him that very same night.

Again, Arthur's father showed little concern,
Not knowing the terrible lesson he'd learn.
Instead he told Arthur not to fuss anymore,
That there weren't any monsters and of that he was sure.

After refusing to sleep in his bed
Arthur slept in the chair by the fire instead
This was the last time Mr Pale saw his son,
When he put him to bed at a quarter past one.

When Arthur lay sleeping, the Saurus arose.
He ate the poor boy from his head to his toes.
As with children before, he ate Arthur's coat,
An action explained in the note that he wrote.

"Dear Father, I'm writing this note to explain
That I've taken my coat cos it's pouring with rain.
I'll be gone for a while, but please don't be sad.
Just try to remember the good times we had.

I tried to explain, but despite all my trying,
You did not believe me, you thought I was lying
The monsters are real, they are not in my head.
They live in my room and they're under my bed.

In closing, the Saurus signed Arthur's name,
Then slipped back under his bed once again.
He knew as he picked his teeth, before long,
Mr Pale soon would enter to find his son gone.

When Mr Pale came in the next morning,
He discovered his son had gone without warning.
After reading the note, he cried, "Oh what have I done?
I wish I had listened to my poor, troubled son."

He waited for Arthur till fifty years passed.
In that house, all alone, Mr Pale breathed his last.
In a chair by the fire they found the boy's father
With a note that read simply, "Come back soon Arthur".

The house stood for years, undisturbed and forgotten.
Like the secret it kept, the woodwork was rotten.
Then one day as the north wind blew fierce and cold
There appeared in the garden a sign that said, "SOLD".

This is a story that will keep you awake,
About a girl and her mother and a house on a lake.
The house on the lake was eerie and cold
with a secret within, until now never told.


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Hi pastas i see no one is helping me with my other book so i think i am going to Delete it
Sorry if you like it well stay happy pastas