Hauntingly Eerie Poetry

Nothing pairs better than the unsettling feeling of Halloween and the beautifully crafted verses of poetry.

Alexander McQueen, Spring 2011 Ready-to-Wear. Photo by Gianni Pucci / GoRunway.com, shared via Vogue. © All rights belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

With Halloween just around the corner, there’s no better time to explore the darkest corners of poetry. Forget pumpkin spice lattes and cosy lights—let’s delve into the creaks and cracks of the skeleton’s bones, the shadows of ghosts lurking in the corners of your room, and the musty scent of decay as the dead walk the earth. Settle in—or, rather, unsettle yourself—with some eerie verses, fully embracing the spookiest of Halloween spirits. Nothing evokes the chilling sense of fear quite like a beautifully crafted symphony of haunting poetry.

Few understand the feeling of unease quite like our beloved Mr. Poe. A classic writer, renowned for his contributions to American literature, especially celebrated for his mastery of Gothic fiction and poetry, he helped shape the great genres of horror, mystery, and detective fiction. His poems, soaked in shivers and steeped in unease, are sure to awaken the darkest emotions. The Conqueror Worm (1843) captures the very essence of Halloween. With themes of death, the futility of human existence, and the inevitable decay that awaits all living things, it truly honours the passage of life in the most eerie way. Rather than offering optimism, the poem presents a disturbing vision of life as a tragic and pointless play—nothing screams Halloween quite like the sobering punch of the meaning of life, especially in this time when we celebrate the thin line between the living and the dead.

The Conqueror Worm by Edgar Allan Poe

Lo! 'tis a gala night
Within the lonesome latter years!
An angel throng, bewinged, bedight
In veils, and drowned in tears,
Sit in a theatre, to see
A play of hopes and fears,
While the orchestra breathes fitfully
The music of the spheres.

Mimes, in the form of God on high,
Mutter and mumble low,
And hither and thither fly—
Mere puppets they, who come and go
At bidding of vast formless things
That shift the scenery to and fro,
Flapping from out their Condor wings
Invisible Wo!

That motley drama—oh, be sure
It shall not be forgot!
With its Phantom chased for evermore
By a crowd that seize it not,
Through a circle that ever returneth in
To the self-same spot,
And much of Madness, and more of Sin,
And Horror the soul of the plot.

But see, amid the mimic rout,
A crawling shape intrude!
A blood-red thing that writhes from out
The scenic solitude!
It writhes!—it writhes!—with mortal pangs
The mimes become its food,
And seraphs sob at vermin fangs
In human gore imbued.

Out—out are the lights—out all!
And, over each quivering form,
The curtain, a funeral pall,
Comes down with the rush of a storm,
And the angels, all pallid and wan,
Uprising, unveiling, affirm
That the play is the tragedy, "Man,"
And its hero, the Conqueror Worm.

Emily Dickinson is not often known for her eerie, spooky style of poetry, yet, as we dive deeper into her verses, we may find something quite unsettling beneath the surface. Frequently exploring themes of death, mortality, and the afterlife, her work carries a haunting, mysterious tone perfect for a chilly October night. I Felt a Funeral in My Brain (1861) uses the metaphor of a funeral to represent the loss of sanity or the approach of death. With strong imagery that evokes a sense of panic, there is nothing more unnerving than losing the faintest grip on one’s sanity. Almost like a psychological horror, this poem—whether sane or insane—beautifully captures the feelings of those haunted by Halloween.

I Felt a Funeral in My Brain by Emily Dickinson

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading—treading—till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through—
And when they all were seated,
A Service, like a Drum—
Kept beating—beating—till I thought
My mind was going numb—
And then I heard them lift a Box
And creak across my Soul
With those same Boots of Lead, again,
Then Space—began to toll,
As all the Heavens were a Bell,
And Being, but an Ear,
And I, and Silence, some strange Race
Wrecked, solitary, here—
And then a Plank in Reason, broke,
And I dropped down, and down—
And hit a World, at every plunge,
And Finished knowing—then—

Ghosts—the wonderchild creatures of Halloween—are arguably some of the scariest monsters out there, reimagined year after year to leave an undying mark on our frightened souls. That is why Ghost House (1916) by Robert Frost is the perfect spooky Halloween poem. Many of Frost’s works possess a dark, haunting tone, exploring themes of death and the darker side of nature. Nothing is more unnerving than a ghostly presence in an abandoned house. By mixing themes of abandonment and nature with an unsettling atmosphere, this short and spooky poem disturbs every little inch of us.

Ghost House by Robert Frost

I dwell in a house with no one in it
And no one will ever be in it again.
But we were born to die in it,
And it shall be the tomb of me,
As I the tomb for others.
I was as lonely as a ghost,
And no one dared to give a passing glance.
I am as still as death’s chill,
And I shall go at last into that land.
Until we fade, like ghosts
That haunt their tomb, forever lost.

Spooky or cosy—no matter how you prefer your Halloween, there is always room for a good dose of eerie poetry. Embrace your spooky side as you welcome the sinister this Halloween. Why do poetry and Halloween go so well together? They complement each other beautifully, leaving us to wonder if the deep, dark nights of October aren’t the very best nights to curl up with some chilling poetry. Which is your favourite unnerving poem?