Best Bridget Poems
Salem Village, Massachusetts
May 11, 1692
Of evil works in league with the devil, I am accused.
Spit upon, bolts tethered in chains, I have been abused.
People mardle I cast spells of palsie to make them twitch.
Blinded by fear, they labeled me a sorceress, a witch.
Superstition is to blame for blinding their eyes.
I claim innocence when affronted by boisterous cries.
"Burn the witch!" they shout in frenzied outrage.
Until tomorrow's trial, I am to be kept inside a cage.
These Puritans are wrong to think they do God's will.
Christians should not have such an urgency to kill.
There is no talk of banishment. That would be a blessing,
but the crimes they say I committed, I am not confessing.
Other women in the village are facing this tragic fate.
Pity that our lives will be in the hands of the magistrate.
Sorrow fills me knowing I will meet death on the gallows
and tossed in a grave, not worthy of ground that is hallow.
I am already convicted in the minds of those who leer.
My pleas of having done nothing wrong, they do not hear.
All of a dudder, I hear them say, "She is a witch possessed!"
"Forsooth," I will cry in court, "to witchery I have not confessed!"
Somewhere from outside, I faintly hear a church bell clanging.
Then, a hoard of voices screaming, "It is time for hanging!"
I write these words before the mob comes to take me away.
God, please keep me in your heart. I will not live another day.
Bridget Bishop,
Falsely accused of being a witch
She’s eighty-eight this day in January,
Graced my life nearly a quarter century.
When I grow up I want to be,
Just like my dear friend, nay ‘Auntie’, Bridie!
This Colleen from Castlemaine, County Kerry,
Is ever joyous and merry.
Bridie loves a hearty hug or rousing Irish song,
She’ll skip an Irish waltz, pulling ye along.
Life’s small joys she savors
Content with simple pleasures.
She’ll coax a smile from any wee child on sight,
On the slightest chance they might.
Crossword puzzles and newspapers from her easy chair.
Chick flicks with a glass of Bailey’s, she’s there!
A gentle, loving spirit is she,
This wise ole soul is also a bit naughty!
With an ever present twinkle in her eye,
Flirting with lads much younger she spies.
‘Tis rare this charmer from them won’t pry
A smile for her daring, playful side!
Wherever with her you go,
Darned if she doesn’t meet someone she knows.
Calling one and all ‘love’ and ‘darling’
Says life is ‘grand’, she bestows ‘God Bless’ in parting.
Bridie’s always ready for her sweets and a cuppa tay,
May we share many more tea times before we part ways!
1-31-12
Beneath the starry skies, I met her,
Radiant beauty, that's Bridget Moragwa,
In her eyes, I found a world of wonder,
Delightful moments, that make me feel alive,
Giving me hope, for a brighter tomorrow,
Each day, my love for her only grows,
Truly blessed, to have her by my side.
Making my heart sing, her smile,
Overwhelming joy, she brings every while,
Radiating warmth, in all that she does,
And her laughter, is like sweet morning dew,
Graceful and kind, in every way,
With her, by my side, forever I'll stay,
As I cherish, the love of Bridget Moragwa.
By Otieno Elvis Gikoi
THE ELO’S POETRY
Bridget Rose
she thought she wasn't beautiful
she didn't like her nose
but I noticed when she held it up
how much her smile glows
she thought she wasn't beautiful
her eyelashes were thin
but I noticed right behind them
were eyes that melted me within
she thought she wasn't beautiful
she said my hair where do I begin
but I noticed how the color
perfectly highlighted her skin
she thought she wasn't beautiful
but everybody knows
there's no one out there fairer
than our dear sweet Bridget rose
By: Uncle Jeremy
How could Bridget
Watching A midget
On one hand denied a digit
Continue to fidget?
Why would A paranoid,
Last year, with a fibroid,
Often getting her annoyed,
Now turn schizoid?
When do angles become trapezoid
And mind of soundness void?
How, why and when?
For I want Bridget ‘Now’
Taken back to ‘Then’…
Medically, right now?
The crumbs beneath the tablecloth
Have been there for the best part of a week
And the smell of malting cats has finally begun to reek
The carpet dust has become as visible as rust
The bin is overflowing from Bottles of cheap wine
And her work shoes are lying unused.
She really isn't taking this breakup well
As so this scene of desperation tells
Plenty of more fish in the sea
Or are busy rotting alongside yesterday's take away chips
In theory all she needs to do
Is take a long soak in a bubble bath
And forge a different path
Bit this isn't the movie's
She isn't Bridget Jones
What she is in actual fact is
Pissed off at home alone
With no battery life on her phone