Whispers from Shadowed Halls: Haunted House Poems

Welcome to our Haunted Houses page! Here, you will find a range of spooky poems dedicated to one of the most thrilling and bone-chilling topics out there. Whether you’re a brave soul who loves exploring haunted houses or someone who covers their eyes at scary movies, these poems are sure to evoke some fright and excitement in you. Enjoy a mixture of eerie, whimsical, and downright terrifying poems about everything from creaking doors and flickering lights to ghostly apparitions and haunted mansions. So grab a flashlight and brace yourself for a journey through the darkness with our Haunted Houses poems!

Short Poems

The Shadows Linger
Darkness flows throughout this space
Whispers echo, out of place
Shadows lurk around the bend
Haunted house, it will not end

Ghostly Encounter
Cold air wraps around my skin
Whispers start to sink in
Figures move within my sight
Haunted house, an eerie blight

A Creaky Welcome
Doors groan and floors creek
Eerie silence, hard to speak
Every step creaks with sound
Haunted house, here I’m bound

Spectral Visions
Ghosts roam these halls of old
Stories hidden, never told
Whispers unheard, spirits roam
Haunted house, their final home

Medium Poems

The Ghostly Dwelling

In a house, once grand and proud,
Lurks a presence not allowed.
Whispers echo through the hall,
Telling tales of things that crawl.

Doors creak open, no one there,
Footsteps sound upon the stair.
Windows bang against the pane,
Yet, the rooms are left in vain.

A chill runs down your spine,
As the shadows start to shine.
A form appears before your eyes,
And suddenly, you realize,

This haunted house is not alone,
The spirits here will never roam.
So if you dare to venture in,
Beware, of what may dwell within.

The Haunted Manor

In the depths of the forest glade,
Lies a manor once long decayed.
Dark and foreboding, it stands alone,
A place where the spirits have made their home.

Shadows dance upon the wall,
Voices whisper, distant calls.
Doors slam shut with an eerie sound,
As the spirits of the past abound.

A misty fog surrounds the place,
As the moonlight glimmers on the space.
An apparition appears before your eyes,
As the spirits of the manor rise.

They’ll haunt your dreams, they’ll haunt your mind,
You’ll never know what you’ll find.
So if you dare to venture in,
Beware, of what may lurk within.

Long Poems

The Haunting of Hill Manor

Deep in the woods where the trees grow tall,
Stands a house that some say should be avoided by all.
Hill Manor, they call it, an old mansion so grand,
But it’s said to be haunted by a malevolent hand.

The doors creak open when there’s no one there,
Footsteps echo down the halls, making you aware.
That there’s something lurking just beyond your sight,
Something that watches you, day and night.

The portraits on the walls seem to follow your gaze,
Their eyes piercing, commanding you to stay.
But you can’t help but feel that you’re not alone,
There’s a presence here, one that’s chilled to the bone.

The wind howls through the empty hallways,
The floors creak and groan, as if in dismay.
The darkness settles in, a thick fog of despair,
As the ghostly whispers fill the air.

The apparitions move without making a sound,
Their forms distorted and twisted and bound.
A cold hand grips your shoulder, with a whisper in your ear,
“You’re not welcome here,” it says, and suddenly disappears.

The fear grips your heart, as you run to the door,
But it’s locked tight, and won’t open anymore.
Trapped in the mansion, with no way out,
The haunting of Hill Manor is what it’s all about.

You’ll hear the laughter of children long gone,
The moans of the tortured, and the scream of the wronged.
You’ll see the shadows that roam the house,
And pray for deliverance, from something that won’t let you out.

So if you pass by the mansion that stands by the woods,
Remember the haunting, the chills, and the goosebumps.
For Hill Manor holds secrets, that not even the dead should know,
As it waits for the next victim, to make its home.

The Creaking Manor

The night was dark as I approached,
The Creaking Manor, once loved and reproached.
The ivy hugged the walls with grip,
As the wind howled, a haunting lip.

I hesitated at the door,
For I had heard the tales of lore.
The ghosts that roamed the halls at night,
Their icy fingers, a chilling sight.

But I was brave, or so I thought,
And so I stepped inside, uncanny and fraught.
The floorboards creaked beneath my feet,
As I entered the dark, foreboding seat.

The grandeur of the manor was evident,
But the atmosphere was malevolent.
The portraits on the walls seemed to stare,
A feeling of unease, I couldn’t bear.

I wandered through the corridor,
With a sense of dread that I abhor.
The shadows twisted and contorted,
As the silence, eerie and distorted.

Suddenly, a whisper broke the calm,
A voice that sang an ancient psalm.
I followed the sound, a trail of mist,
But the further I went, the more it persist.

The door before me swung ajar,
And I knew I had gone too far.
For there, before my very eyes,
The ghost of long-dead ancestors arise.

Their eyes were hollow, their fingers bony,
Their apparition, no less phony.
But the fear I felt was very real,
As I shivered and quaked, unable to steal.

A hand reached out to touch my skin,
But I turned and ran, a battle to win.
The manor chased me, cruel and unkind,
As I fled, now unsure, what I’d find.

Finally, I reached the door,
And burst outside, my feet a bore.
But the Creaking Manor, it was not done,
Its cursed existence, forever shun.

For now I wander, both day and night,
Haunted by the ghosts, in plain sight.
And every time I pass that door,
My heart skips a beat, afraid and unsure.