"scariest" poems
You asked
What is the scariest part?
I answer
The scariest part
is not the feeling of loneliness
or the darkness that fills you
despite the looming pain
of emptiness
The scariest part
is the realization
that you have lost yourself
completely
sinking in as you lay awake
at 2 AM
because you lost the ability to sleep
and you can't even cry
because you don't even care
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 11:14 AM UTC
parenthood is the scariest thing, to me
the ability to love something to the point
that you know it better than it knows itself
seems nearly impossible and very easy to ruin
its chances for fulfilling its dreams
and guiding it through storms while it constantly pulls away
is the bravest of the loves, I think.
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 11:52 AM UTC
is it weird that i still think about you
is it strange that your car is the scariest place i've ever been
but the only place i want to be right now
are you a real person
are you a figure of my imagination
is it weird that i feel close to you
but we never speak
not like we used to
not anymore
is that weird
Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 5:21 PM UTC
Stink up the beer house with unadorned putrid self-thoughts.
Poppy-eyed and hating others is easy for blue bottled buggers.
A sweet thing for you!
A growing circle of six-legged empty.
Filled to the brim with puffed up space. A white brim with a shiny red exoskeleton.
Oh, what a dreadful sight!
Hair strewn across a face and hooked into the teeth of the blushy lullabied insect screech.
Clear liquid not blood, but blood all the same on an empty stomach with full vein-shot bones.
Not milky bones with calcium-love..
A dead, deficient, cracked, neglected, insufficient skeletal frame, limp.
Yellowed with hate-smoke and old book notes.
Splintered, crazed and buzzed through the gridded bulging eye-window of every single one of those insect like Self-Loathers.
Chosen out of pure sympathy "We should talk more"
.......To the sun, the moon and the stars?
Every star mocks,
Every beam scoffs
and every moon likes to deride on the pain that hides beneath the lies of human bug eyes.
A simply formed pound of vertebrate flesh leaks soft plasma on the scaly moth floor.
Oh how we are dusty and unsure!
Forestry consisting of a Sitka Spruce and of a Japanese Larch was a claim I made from the start.
Over gardens of attention arachnid lurking selfish bugs and even those half winged "friend people".
The bell has rung the scariest of chimes and with every soul wrenching 'ding' a furry fang digs at the blotchy eyed, softly fleshed girl.
Oh such a sweet thing to be surrounded by selfish bugs who spin webs with tear stained tissues!
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 2:19 PM UTC
Number 10: Mangle
Number 9: Springtrap
Number 8: VR Toy Freddy
Number 7: Withered Bonny
Number 6: Golden Freddy
Number 5: fredy fazbore
Number 4: Nightmare foxy
Number 3: Circus Baby
Number 2: Rockstar Freddu
Honorable mention: Vanny
Number 1; purple guy
Sep 25, 2023
Sep 25, 2023 at 12:35 AM UTC
Remember
When the scariest thing in the world
Was the dark?
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 3:34 PM UTC
I. Am. Bipolar.
I have my highs
I have my
lows
I will be laughing about my life one minute
And crying about it the next
My switch is one or the other
But sometimes the switch breaks
And that is the scariest part
The numb feeling
Senseless
Hopeless
Unfeeling
Dead
Wanting to be nothing at all for a moment
So I don't sleep
Or eat
Or sometimes even move
I am a slave to my mental illness
I sometimes watch my friends lose interest
In anything I have to say
Until something knocks the edge and the switch is adjusted
And so is my mood
Then everything is fine
Or ******* awful
I. Am. Bipolar.
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 8:10 PM UTC
the scariest adventure
is the one where you step out
behind that darkened door
and reveal your true colors.
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 11:06 PM UTC
I won't be anything to you, you
Who planted the seed in confusion
Never knew I would be a product
A spawn of accident I was
Swimming in mystery, living without thought
You became a man of higher proportions
Seven feet tall in a blurry photograph
In my dreams you stood unnecessarily
Before I knew myself, I barely knew you
Giving you a second chance
Might have been the scariest thing to him
There is no fixing what was never there
No hating what I never loved
I'm stuck with confusion as well
Who am I supposed to call Father?
Aug 15, 2016
Aug 15, 2016 at 1:58 PM UTC
There is no haunted house scarier than the place I speak of.
No creepy woods late at night compares.
The scariest place a human can be, a place no one is safe from.
To be alone with your thoughts can be the most devastating place anyone could be.
You are trapped with only thoughts and feelings and nothing can save you but yourself.
Some people are easily able to evade the thoughts and move on to other things, but some of us aren't that lucky.
For those of us who are trapped inside the tunnels of our minds we constantly are interrupted by overwhelming thoughts and nothing can stop them.
It's easy for people on the outside to think we can just turn off these bad thoughts but for us trapped there is no escaping this horrifying place. It's a constant battle of worry and misconceived ideas that we aren't good enough, that everything we do isn't enough for someone.
But never give up the internal battle with the demons that hide in your tunnel. You are good enough.
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 10:00 PM UTC
Its name is sadness.
Violent sadness.
It's creeping up again
It is giving me anxiety
Because I don't want it
To crawl in my skin
Again and be comfortable.
With the anxiety brings depression.
It's always been there,
Never completely going away.
But I can ignore and it slows,
Grows smaller everytime
I smile and laugh.
But every time someone leaves
Me for someone shinier,
The sadness spreads like wild fire,
Like the mold on strawberries
I cannot eat.
I wish I was born thin like her,
Perfect like her,
Golden like her,
The one who steals them away.
As I watch the monster crawling
Towards me,
I analyze it.
I watch the way it moves slow,
Trying to not be discovered
Like the way I do.
It moves swiftly,
Not in pulses.
I watch it creep,
Pulling itself from
Whatever depths it came,
Like the way I do.
And that's the scariest part.
I watch it's iridescent
Nails crawl closer.
It has a diamond ring.
...
So do I.
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 10:12 AM UTC
perhaps being told
“you are not alone,” is the
scariest of all
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 10:29 AM UTC
I have a lot of them pretty clothes;
Short,long or medium skirts.
Shabby,decent or just mere blouses.
Short,long or medium dresses.
But none can compare to my favorite little black dress.
Its neither too short,nor too long.
And I cannot even classify it to be medium.
Its entire length is knitted in black
As it has stitched in white,
A belt that covers the waist.
Its not a very big belt though,
Too little actually.
But I love my favorite little black dress.
It is not because I can wear it to any occasion that I love it;
I can wear it to dinner,
And yet be comfortable enough to select even my favorite musozya to be my meal.
I can dance for the whole night when in it.
I can meet even the scariest of inlaws in it,
And shake the hands of the most respectable people while having its belt clenching my waist.
My favorite little black dress.
I just love it
And it is not because I got my first kiss in it.
Nor is it because I had just taken it off,
When my lover devoured my flesh and took my innocence with him that night.
Leaving my decency to cling only to my skin,
As if it is on my favorite little black dress.
I kicked a ball in it,
As the boys whaled 'goale! Goale! Goale'
Thinking that since I had a dress for a garment,
Then the goal,I would surely miss.
And yet I didn't.
In my favorite little black dress.
That night when I danced with him,
I wore it.
I could tell my father too,
Appreciated how lovely it made me look on this day,
As he led me to the dance floor,
And yet;
I wasn't even the bride.
My favorite little black dress.
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 8:50 AM UTC
She is the sweetest
The loveliest
The warmest
The kindest
Person I'll ever know
Who never wavered
In the weirdest
In the craziest
In the wildest
Moods and rotten days
Who holds my hand
In the the darkest
In the scariest
In the toughest
Times I've ever faced.
She dives the deepest
She goes the furthest
She fights the fiercest
Holds out the longest
For her prince and princesses.
That's why she is
The angriest
And the maddest
And the saddest
When I keep settling
For less than best.
She cheers me on
With a smile that is the brightest
With a love so selfless
With support so endless
That never changes
In every rise and every fall
When everything is hopeless
Her faith is the biggest
Still so fearless
Points to the Greatest
Who is the Reason for it all
She cries the hardest
She hurts the deepest
She's the most imperfect
The most human person I know
Still I'm using all the superlatives
Because she deserves the best
She's my mom
And I love her so.
After all the years of service
Your mom deserves a rest
It's her turn to be the princess
And remind her that she's
The sweetest
The kindest
The loveliest
The warmest
The noblest
And that in all these years so tireless
Countless lives were touched and blessed.
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 3:54 PM UTC
The scariest thing
About letting yourself go
Is letting people know
You're emotional.
And when you cry every night
And wish you would die,
Where are they
Telling you
To hold on,
Stay strong?
No where.
They are no where to be found.
No, they don't make a sound.
So when they come around
In your glory days,
They don't even
Recognize your face.
It's a shame to say
They just want your fame.
But they don't even know
You're emotional.
'Cause you keep it in,
So they don't win.
But when
That one person
Comes along
And sings you
A song,
Let them in
Don't let them
Move on.
Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 2:40 PM UTC
Numerous number systems beyond the real:
complex numbers, octonions, omnions which can eat whole black
holes.
It's axiomatic that your personal history, preferences, how you feel
account for nothing at all.
$30 buys a flock of chickens for a needy family (International Rescue
Committee)
$29 gets a girl a school uniform (CARE), for $300 you can stock a fish
pond (Heifer International)
$69 can start a female entrepreneur in the sewing business (Mercy
Corps)
$5 will buy a bed net that protects a family from mosquitoes (Against
Malaria)
20th century experiments demonstrated that electrical charge is
quantized; that is, it comes in
multiples of individual small units called the elementary charge, e,
approximately equal to 1.602
x 10-19 coulombs (except for particles called quarks which have
charges that are multiples of
1/3e).
Why has the experimentalism of the avant-garde, which has failed in
the novel, succeeded in
poetry? Because poetry is always experimental; while the novel, on
the contrary, by its nature,
cannot be . . . which is to say that experimentalism is synonymous
with poetry, and that applied
to the novel, it leads simply to the substitution of the novel with
poetry. --Alberto Moravia
Man made the town, Fibonacci inflated zero to be the wheel
around which the universe turns and language is the soul
walking and talking quietly or going angrily to war.
"Counting is in its very essence magical, if any human practice is at all.
For numbers are things no one has ever seen or heard or touched."
As are words.
Joan Didion thought the scariest stanza in all of poetry
begins Row, row, row your boat gently
down the stream. The elements, the material penumbra,
irresolvable for the mortal, readily dissolve in words and numbers.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 4:08 PM UTC
anxiety attacks like
volcanic eruptions
buildup unbreakable.
the explosion is
the worst kind of release
it seems like the scariest
part but don't forget
the fallout
the devastation of
any living thing
nearby.
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 9:45 PM UTC
The scariest thing is,
we're ready to evolve.
Imagine how many of our horrors we could solve.
Even darker still,
they don't want us to unite.
But after all, what's been solved with all these wars we fight
And money is of course...
the most important thing of all.
Yet funny as it sounds...it really means nothing at all
We're brothers and we're sisters,
under a common sun.
These lines we've scrawled on maps of ours...shattered instead of one.
That's the truest problem,
the final shackle yet to break.
The futures beams with brightness...but we've a final leap to take.
We must release the past,
We'll need both hands to lunge.
Balancing precipitously before the plunge,
Our consciousness transcending,
silence ringing in our ears.
The internal glow of love without the salty taste of tears.
We're worthy and we're ready,
and some of us awake.
Enlightenment expanding, like a ripple on a lake.
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 7:46 PM UTC
A CLOWN IS...
A ~ one of a kind
C ~ CRAZY Clown
L ~ LAZY Clown
O ~ ORNERY or FUNNY Clown
W ~ WHITEFACED Clown
N ~ NONSENSICAL Clown
A Clown can make one happy
A Clown can look very sad
A Clown can be called Apple Annie
And wear an Apple on her head.
A Clown comes with many names
It depends on who they are.
There was a Hobo Clown named Emmett Kelly, Jr.
Who always made me sad,
for he wore old rags, and walked real slow,
But he wasn't very scary, for that I was real glad.
And then there was BOZO the clown
Whose horn he beeped, and beeped and beeped
At least he was a funny Clown,
He never wore a frown.
The scary one was Penneywise the dancing Clown
From the movie IT...
He was the scariest Clown I ever saw
Fingers real long, and he lived in a sewer.
Now since I love dancing, one would
think he was my favorite...for he was
called the dancing Clown.
But when he climbed out of the sewer,
and hid behind the doors,
Let me tell you folks,
I wasn't watching any more...
But let me add my favorite Clown
Her name is Polka Dot...
She's been my friend for 60 years
She keeps me laughing, even when
she's not in costume...
Polka Dot's real name is Ginney Jean
She IS A CLOWN my favorite kind of friend.
by ~ judy
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 7:19 PM UTC
The
scariest
place to be
is on the
edge...
the precipice
between
keeping it together
and falling
into
the abyss
Knowing
that when you fall
you
fall
a
l
o
n
e
Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 10:21 PM UTC
It's the week of Giving
Thanks, and I'm thinking
Of the magical place of
My Dreams, the
Dream-state I existed
In my childhood.
Google maps is SCI-
Finite, and does this place
Justice like a squid
Quoting Revelation 1:
9 - the Island of Palmos.
But at least the squid
Was half-right -
Middle Park Lagoon
Had an island.
It wasn't just the little farm
Pond full of alligator snappers,
And indelible fish (carp, anagram:
Crap)
It was the surrounding woods,
The Leopard Frogs I could not
(And really didn't want to)
Catch. It wasn't the shoe-
Stealing muck-mud, the
Barely-4-foot deep water.
It wasn't Duck Creek flowing
Next door, flooding often,
Its waters spilling into the
Waters of the Lagoon, depositing
And withdrawing wildlife
At will.
It was my escape-pod in the
Mysterious Spaceship Earth
That was 1968-1984, for my Dad
Ed Scheck, was Supt. of Parks
And Rec in Bettendorf, Iowa.
He oversaw all the parks, the
Pre-Waterslide-Pool, the Bike
Trails connecting Davenport
To its bro/sis city.
My Dad had to work a lot
And me in the park was like
Me visiting Dad.
The Lagoon frozen when we
Had Iowa winter, and a very
Popular place to skate. I think
I loved the Lagoon more frozen
Than liquid. At night, I would
Cut through the houses on
Fair Meadows Drive, listening to
KSTT-AM blasting on the speaker
Attached to the light pole.
It was the scariest part of my day,
That little freezing trip from
Lagoon to Home.
And about the best.
In 1979, at sixteen, I applied
For employment with the
Parks Department, and that
Meant summers working at
Palmer Hills Golf Course.
And, winters, supervising
Middle Park Lagoon.
I got to skate out on the
Ice, the ice that would turn
To the watery body I loved
Most of all, and miss, to
This day.
From 1968 (5) to 1984.
The math doesn't add up;
Magic has no columns that
Add up at the bottom, because
Magic is bottomless.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 10:09 AM UTC
I went into my old bedroom today
Old pictures of us still hang from the pink walls
The one of us all dressed up as hippies with our flowy dresses and flowers in our hair
The one of us in the photo booth at the arcade where we would waste our Friday nights
The one of us where you have that black eye from a baseball to the face
The one of us at summer camp making friendship bracelets which I've kept all these years
The one us skiing together with our snow pants and rosy cheeks
The one of us at softball practice in our grass stained uniforms
The one us swimming in the lake some summers ago
The one of us sleeping in a bathtub because all the beds were occupied
The one of us playing foosball in our pj's while on vacation that one winter
I stared at them for what seemed like hours
Reliving the memory of each photo
And then I had an urge to rip them all down
To tear them from those pink walls and douse them in gasoline
Cause they left me yearning and wistful
They represent a time and a place I want back
A me I want back
A friendship I want back
You were an irreplaceable friend
To look back on it is bittersweet
Part of me looks back fondly at it all
We shared so many moments together it's hard to pick a favorite
We chased the unknown together like storm chasers in the scariest of weather
I can't quite put into words how much you meant (mean) to me
And I will never forget you, even if I tried
Then there is the other part of me
The part of me that is left with this insurmountable emptiness
This longing for something that is so far gone
Because I know that is a time and a place I will never get back
That is a me I will never get back
That is a friendship I will never get back
And the realization that time travel does not exist
Is the most sorrowful thing of all
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 6:53 PM UTC
In the grips of the monster again.
He lurks inside the darkness within.
Sometimes he’s dormant, sleeping so sound.
Then he rears his head and drags me right down.
It feels like I’m drowning and cannot breathe,
And I’m fighting for something, a little reprieve,
But the monster he holds me within his clutch.
I try to break free, but stay locked in his touch.
When I’m his slave, nothing can be done,
To shed light on my world, not even the sun.
Engulfed in the darkness, consumed by the night.
It feels no one can save me from this dreary plight,
So I shut the world out and shut myself in,
For the monster’s dwelling inside my skin,
And he holds he down and drains me of tears,
While feeding my insecurities and fears.
He comes out of hiding and decides to play.
These are the scariest of all of my days.
He makes it impossible for me to live life,
And fills my soul with indescribable strife.
I can’t face the day and can’t face myself.
Yes, the monster gets pleasure out of this hell,
And try as I might I cannot escape,
For this is my life and this is my fate.
How can you run from what hides inside?
You can’t so instead I just choose to hide.
Hide from the world since I can’t hide from me,
And I never can tell where the monster will be.
In my heart or my brain or maybe my soul,
Or maybe he’ll take over me as a whole.
That’s what I fear most for that can’t be escaped.
The monster will destroy all in its wake.
So I fight to control the monster within.
Sometimes I lose and sometimes I win,
But the war’s never over for the monster inside,
And it will not be over until the day that I die.
I will fight and I’ll struggle and I’ll own this war,
And in the end I’ll know what it’s all for,
But one thing’s for sure this monster’s my own.
He is my enemy and I am his home.
Aug 23, 2016
Aug 23, 2016 at 5:18 AM UTC
Scary Clowns
*There is one thing you should know
I swear it is the truth
Watch for clowns this time of year
As they smile and lie to you
One day you'll see these words I say
They cannot be denied
For Halloween is on us now
The scariest of all nights
Ghost will float through the air
Let you think the night is fun
The walking dead will rule the streets
Some may have real guns
A witch may put a spell on you
Many Gobblins will be found
Thinking you have seen it all
You relax and let guard down
Then a final knock on your door
With no one else around
A politician standing there
The scariest of all clowns*
Poem by : Carl Joseph Roberts
Oct 29, 2015
Oct 29, 2015 at 5:55 PM UTC