In Gainesville's heart, where knowledge bright did gleam,
A shadow fell, a nightmare, a horrific dream.
Danny Rolling, a name whispered in dread,
Sowed terror's seeds, where youthful spirits bled.
Five souls he claimed, in a summer's cruel embrace,
Christina Powell, Sonja Larson, their beauty and grace,
Gone in an instant, innocence defiled,
Leaving families shattered, their futures exiled.
Christa Hoyt, a student with a smile so fair,
Violently silenced, beyond all repair.
Manuel Taboada, Tracey Paules, lovers entwined,
Their dreams extinguished, left shattered behind.
A city paralyzed, by fear's icy grip,
Each creaking floorboard, a tremor on the lip.
The university's promise, stained crimson and black,
A community wounded, struggling to track,
The monster who stalked, in the moon's pale light,
Leaving devastation, a landscape of blight.
The whispers of evil, a chilling refrain,
As fear gripped the campus, and washed over the plain.
A life misspent, a soul consumed by pain,
He sought to inflict, to drive others insane.
The trial unfolded, a nation watched in awe,
As Rolling confessed, defying justice's law.
Condemned to death, for the horrors he wrought,
His name a reminder, of battles hard fought,
Against the darkness, that lurks in the soul,
A chilling tale told, to make us whole.
May the victims find peace, in realms beyond our sight,
And justice prevail, banishing endless night.
Though scars may remain, on Gainesville's tender heart,
We honor the fallen, and pledge a brand new start.
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Author:
Matthew R. Callies (
Offline) - Published: March 25th, 2026 08:04
- Comment from author about the poem: This poem is about Danny Rolling, aka the Gainesville Ripper. for more context visit https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Danny_Rolling
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 7
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
- In collections: Bloodletters and Badmen.
Offline)
Comments3
Matthew I remember this well. My son and daughter went to the University of Florida. Well written it is creepy and dark but so was the event. Well written my friend
Matthew, pieces like this always sit differently…because you’re not just imagining something, you’re holding something that actually happened. There’s a responsibility in that, and I can feel you trying to carry it with care. Well done, here. Love your work, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Thanks for both the poem and the Wikipedia reference. His history illustrates the intergenerational transmission of whatever tendencies and values present themselves in a given individual. You are often what your parents make you. A social fact many in power choose to ignore.
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