Horror Poem Quotes

“Decades of debauchery
Erode both body and soul
‘Til mortal becomes mere shade
Devoid of substance and light.
The living are like strangers
As the dead draw all too near.”
― Richard H. Fay, Cosmic Journeys and Gothic Visions: A Speculative Poetry Collection

“Spring-Heeled Jack Is In The Lane by Stewart Stafford

Go indoors, children, before dark falls,
A fiend comes hideous and inhumane,
Tell your mother not to answer the door,
For Spring-Heeled Jack is in the lane.

Is it spectre, beast or demon?
A trick of light to fool the brain?
Blue flames spew from hellish maw,
Spring-Heeled Jack growls in the lane.

No one can unsee its monstrous face,
Nor its claws of steel that bloodstain,
Its haunting cackle freezes victims,
Spring-Heeled Jack leaps from the lane.

© Stewart Stafford, 2024. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“On Darkest Paths by Stewart Stafford

Temporal loop on a ravenous street,
A vampire denied a ticking heartbeat,
Restless spirit of night's prettified edge,
Bound acolyte of the infinite pledge.

Human life, another planet’s memory,
This skittish flock, a prized delicacy,
Blood frenzy mingles with death's choir,
A living essence merged with undead fire.

No loving touch nor warmth of light,
I must stay numb, shun my plight,
Solitary, not lonely; sated yet lost.
A fickle captive in my permafrost.

I spurn self-pity’s indulgent call,
My wastrel's drudge to primal thrall.
A millstone for necks of mortal strays
Perishing slowly in diminished ways.

An inversion of creation, a deviant lie,
A predator's bloodlust can never comply,
Rogue feeders, unbound by pack affliction.
Until driven away or freed of addiction.

© 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“The Christmas Crasher or Merry Crisis & Happy New Fear
(The Yule-Get-Yours Scapegoat)
A Poem by Stewart Stafford

A malevolent sprite in our living room,
A mouldy Púca in the Christmas tree,
Bauble-gleam eyes in festive branches,
A sulphur stink while we watch TV.

Swallowing a window candle flame;
A fire-eater’s trick to no applause,
Season’s sweets wolfed down—
Even wrappers, devoured without pause.

A fridge raid’s boozy-woozy walk,
A true eggnog nuisance — every inch,
Crash — a muffled, 'Timber! God rest ya!'
So loud, we thought it was The Grinch!

My parents demanded it come out:
"A wrecked tree and hangover’s enough!"
It pleaded against eviction in the cold,
Squatter’s rights for lack of sterner stuff!

Seated at the Xmas dinner table,
Tossing scraps to our strange ‘pet’ below,
Foghorn burp aria, a puked tinsel encore,
Pine-needle toothpick snores in fake snow.

© 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford