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WARNING: Stories on this site may contain mature language and situations, and may be inappropriate for readers under the age of 18.

CORNERS by Taias Maciel
March 29, 2012  Poetry   Tags:   

In the corner of this room
a chair made of wood
where I sit at eventide
to watch the shadows flood.
Under the door, through my walls
from the corridor I hear their potent calls.
Swarming like a dark plague
over my bed
these shadows are remnants
belonging to the dead.
Whispering like children
with a secret to keep
behind limpid hands
when they should be asleep.
Dark sockets of obscurity
where innocent eyes should be
and powder white faces
no moonlight need see.
There is no escaping
no exit marked “out”
no dream to wake up from
pointless to shout.
I sit and wait for them
to land on my shore
on my chair made of wood
I am safe no more.


  1. I’m not massive fan of poetry as I’ve said before but I really like this. Its claustrophobic.

    Comment by Pete Bevan on March 29, 2012 @ 4:42 pm

  2. Eerie. I’ll admit this is the first poem I’ve read on this site. Nicely written,love the impending doom vibe it has. I think now I’ll start reading them.

    Comment by JR Onespot on April 3, 2012 @ 10:58 pm

  3. It´s as good as the raven from edgar allan poe. No exaggeration, applaude your skills. =)

    Can we get more of that, please?

    Comment by Sal. on April 4, 2012 @ 6:16 pm

  4. kudos. best zombpocalypse poem Ive read, and Ive read…a lot

    Comment by ken on April 5, 2012 @ 7:23 pm

  5. I like this type of poetry. Nice and tight, simple, thought provoking words and phrases.

    Comment by Bob Best on May 25, 2012 @ 7:57 am

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