Journey into the Grotesque
Journey into the Grotesque
Finding Beauty in the Unbeautiful
Finding Beauty in the Unbeautiful
Beauty and horror are often closer than we think. The grotesque and the sublime twist together, making us see the world differently. This assignment challenges you to:
Find beauty in what is typically grotesque. Take something disturbing, ugly, or unsettling and elevate it into something poetic, mesmerizing, or profound.
Find the grotesque in what is typically beautiful. Take something traditionally lovely—a rose, a sunset, a smile—and reveal the decay, unease, or horror beneath its surface.
Your poem should make the reader feel uncomfortable yet enthralled.
Your poem should blend beauty and horror, attraction and repulsion.
Use striking sensory imagery—if we’re going grotesque, make it vivid. If we’re twisting beauty, make the distortion feel real.
You can write in any poetic form (free verse, sonnet, pantoum, rap—whatever works).
Consider using contradictions, unexpected metaphors, or unsettling juxtapositions.
Avoid clichés. If it’s beautiful, make it uncomfortably beautiful. If it’s grotesque, make it eerily mesmerizing.
"The Most Beautiful Rot" – A poem about decay, corpses, rust, broken things—but make it stunning.
"The Smile That Was Too Wide" – A poem about something almost beautiful, but slightly off—an uncanny valley moment.
"The Lullaby of Screams" – Take something typically gentle and soothing and make it unnerving.
"Dolls Don’t Blink" – A poem about an object or person meant to be lovely, but something isn’t right.
"A Feast of Flies" – Food, indulgence, and rot all play together—how much is too much?
"A Love Letter to Ruin" – Love and horror intertwined, the grotesque aspects of devotion, obsession, and loss.
"Sunset in the Morgue" – A classic beautiful image (a sunset, a meadow, a dance) but placed in a morbid or eerie setting.
"What the Mirror Refuses to Show" – A poem about vanity, self-perception, and the horror lurking beneath the surface.
"Petals and Blood" – Take a natural, soft image (flowers, birds, waves) and push it toward violence, destruction, or decay.
"The Last Perfume of the Dying" – A poem about scent, capturing both sweetness and rot in one breath.
What disturbs you but also fascinates you?
How can you describe horror in a way that makes it feel mesmerizing?
How can you take something beautiful and reveal its hidden darkness?
What sensory details will make the poem feel visceral?
"A Carcass" by Charles Baudelaire – A poem that finds beauty in a rotting, maggot-ridden corpse.
Edgar Allan Poe’s Poetry (e.g., "Annabel Lee," "The Raven") – Melancholy, beauty, and horror woven together.
"The Fall of the House of Usher" by Edgar Allan Poe – A story about decay, insanity, and beauty falling apart.
"The Picture of Dorian Gray" by Oscar Wilde – The grotesque truth hiding behind a beautiful face.
"Pre-Raphaelite Paintings" – Look at hauntingly beautiful paintings of tragic figures.
They shuffle in before the sun, before the sky remembers color.
Their breath fogs the glass doors—
not from cold, but from something older, something slower—
a death that happens one pay period at a time.
I. The Commute
The tie is a noose, just loose enough to let him swallow.
His skin, waxy, pulled too tight across his skull.
The train hums in long, shallow breaths,
passengers swaying, synchronized like carcasses on meat hooks.
He grips the pole, his fingers cracking—
not metaphor, not simile, just cracking.
Flesh like old leather, joints stiff with the rot of repetition.
II. The Cubicle
The keyboard clacks—bones against plastic.
His nails have yellowed, curling inward,
typing with knuckles now, the skin stretched too thin.
His teeth loosen—one plops into the coffee.
He swirls it absently, black tide swallowing ivory.
He drinks anyway.
The office hums with fluorescence,
buzzing flies in a hive of wasted hours.
They don't speak, not really—
just nod, just shuffle, just approve expense reports.
His breath smells like yesterday’s forgotten lunch,
but no one notices. No one has noticed him for years.
III. Promotions & Prolonged Tenure
The boss calls him in.
Says he’s moving up, says it’s good for the company,
says he’s indispensable, irreplaceable, incredible.
Says all the words one says before burying a body.
His reflection in the glass door does not look back.
It only waits.
There are new responsibilities now,
new spreadsheets, new performance reviews.
More meetings.
He doesn't have hair anymore,
just patches of brittle grass on scalp soil turned gray.
His fingers shake when he writes his name.
They fall off when he signs the final contract.
It doesn’t matter. The work is digital now.
IV. The Retirement Package
Years pass. He retires.
The company throws him a party in Conference Room B.
Cake with his name spelled wrong.
A card with fifty identical signatures.
A firm handshake that rips the last strands of muscle from his palm.
A pension. A countdown.
The community calls it The Estates,
but it’s just another office.
The shift is shorter, but the clock still ticks.
The sky is gray. It’s always gray.
The wind moves, but it does not change anything.
There is golf now.
The ball sinks into the hole. So does the purpose.
So does he.
One day, he forgets to wake up.
No one clocks him out.
The sun sets.
Then rises again.
The shift goes on.