Best Salem Poems
Salem
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Unrest of spirit churns behind thy door,
the sin interned therein is quarrelsome
No "witch" that thou hast burned serves to restore
the pitch that has upturned thy moral plumb
Forego thy demons, none would be found here
Such guile belies the pleasure of the young
Until thy trials should rise of fact, not fear,
so will thy measure see the pious hung
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Date: 11/14/2018
Sponsor: Julia Ward
contest: Unrest of Spirit
Seven ships sailed south to Salem
Sacks of spices sweet sacks of salt
Riding wave’s ridges roughly
Roughly riding seas to south
Blue shallows secrets silent secluded traps
With coral teeth and rocky cracks
Fountains sprout from huge fish backs
The Kraken awaits amidst ruined ships
With sharp hungry salivating mouth
Yet the captain steers clear of this fear
As ports draw close and harbours near
And as the schooners dock and anchor
As the seven ships docked safe
And sound in Salem’s port
On Salem’s ground
Sun hindered sultry earth, wet mound of mossy growth,
Cast to my grave way too early, untold secrets held by oath.
My cross bearing name, years untold, vines they wind,
Loved ones, lost souls crying, constrained, I’ve left behind.
Placed six feet under, to reside, by wronged eternal shame,
Respect shallowly given, bare tombstone, initialed name.
Unkempt, desolate, outskirts, socially banished bed I lay,
Once disclosed, a man’s untold secret, during night times fallen day.
Provoking sudden panic, with “vulgar lies” by fortunes truth,
“Prove it” flame torches burned, sovereign citizens, absent ruth.
Those ideas came and went, a mistake, to share such knowledge,
A frightened small town life, unjust powers screamed abolish.
Unleashed a fears throne devil, tied up “witch”, my smoke stack burned,
Inherited genes my sisters gathered, a unions threat, conversed they learned.
A gift of genuine beauty, I’ve stood behind these sorcerers lives,
Through times suspicious husbands, to life’s ‘all knowing’ cautious wives.
For my sisters they kept quiet, by sustained years, their families grew,
Long lived our families secret, a blood lined “witch”, for all she knew.
Overgrown vines for years have passed, Salem nights as they have changed,
Life’s seasons, predicted secrets, no longer provoked by fears deranged.
For these vines is all that’s held me, natures embrace casted shadow,
Death speaks, my lingered voice, unspoken truth will not forego.
Not ruled by judgements nature, for in me their roots have grown.
Unseen, my weathered head stone, dressed in vines, I’m not alone,
A child’s future, my leaves unraveled, jaded visions to them I give,
My torture speaks, a hidden tombstone, the Salem witch in you, I live.
Over grown with Vines- Poetry Contest
Dated 10-04-2016
Witches motto is to do no harm to plants or animals
Ill understood they continue to positively garden and uplift
They were unfairly persecuted and prosecuted, murdered even
Christians bullied them, jealousy and fear determined their fate
Hysterical preteen accused the prettiest, eliminating competition
Every beautiful girl was in danger during this frenzied period of history
Still feel enraged and acute sadness when I drive through Salem.
They should change the name, to Dog City,
from ye ole Salem Mass,
there's a dog on a leash, walking a human,
everywhere that you pass,
we have great urban stores,
and ghosts and witches galore,
salem mass, is a gem,
in Massachusetts north shore,
there are many stores of consignement,
and stores of upper refinement,
we have sandy beaches,
and plush green parks,
you can swim in the ocean,
without getting eaten by sharks,
haunted happenings in the fall,
people come from all around,
so much to do, you'll be enthralled,
you may even get spell bound,
so if Salem's dog city, sounds good,
come by and visit us,
you can travel here many a ways,
by train, or plane, or bus.
Days of our youth are long since gone
Yet some things take us back.
Memories impressed forever...
On our mind's Silent Track,
The Lake, the Sand, the Pier so old
The Shore next to the Water so blue.
Remembering the Badminton and Volleyball Games...
And who tried to outscore who.
The Tavern where we sometimes ate
In our festive Summer Shorts.
Walking down the Road at night...
Using only the Beam of an old Flashlight.
Those days of our youth were filled with fun
With our Parents' Love and ceaseless Rhyme.
Though we are no longer Young...
We fondly remember - OUR SALEM TIME.
Flying on an easterly wind
Over Atlantic waters, ever thinned
A village comes back into view
Eerily draped in a season anew
Hanging now with purple wisteria
Not accusations, not hysteria,
Is old Salem town, lush and green
Beyond, a cemetery lies, a reverent scene
Dark houses, by cherry blossoms framed
Brighten a place once so shamed,
By masking her greatest tragedy
With pink floral beauty, craftily
Quiet streets, an all too familiar pitch
As I wander, her picket fences bewitch,
And up on Gallows Hill, a site so tragic
Finds her peace in springtime magic.
I am no martyr, no ghost, nor wizard great
They laid rocks all upon me, and again I say
I will not plead, more weight, more weight
I was a farmer, in the spring of Salem late
My wife is to be hanged the following day
I am no martyr, no ghost, nor wizard great
Oh Martha I’ve sinned, though not what they state
There shall be no confession, so here I will lay
I will not plead, more weight, more weight
I’ve afflicted no person to meet this gruesome fate
Accused by a witch they say changed her way
I am no martyr, no ghost, nor wizard great
Three days pass, my conviction won't abate
Stone by stone, my hope for reason gone astray
I will not plead, more weight, more weight
Crushed to dust, before they’ll clean my slate
Oh Miss. Hobbs, for your betrayal you will pay
I am no martyr, no ghost, nor wizard great
I will never plead. More weight, more weight.
Days of your youth are long gone, yet some things take us back . . .
Memories impressed forever like leaves in a book,
In our mind's silent track.
A cottage was our home for a week, when our parents got the time . . .
It was another world which opened for us,
As we got away from the city's bustle and grime.
We slept upstairs; the attic was warm, as so was the woodburning stove . . .
Breakfast was pancakes, eggs, and sausage,
Prepared with the salt of our parents' love.
The rooms were few but airy, outside was where we wanted to be . . .
For this was our special playland place,
Amidst the trees, birds, and humming bees.
The lake, the sand, the pier so old; a swim in the water's deep blue . . .
Remembering the badminton and volleyball games,
And who tried to outscore who.
Having to walk back on the dark and lonely road at night . . .
From the fish fry, in our festive summer shorts,
Making our way to the cottage, by the beam of an old flashlight.
Those days of youth were filled with fun; carefree days of love and rhyme . . .
Though we are young no longer, we keep treasured memories,
Only in Salem Time.
I live in a city named Salem,
which has been known for havoc and mayhem,
there are witches and goblins galore,
you can go shopping,
while on a ghost tour,
the streets are lined with cobblestone brick,
you can have your palms read,
or visit a psychic,
there are many of homes,
both older and new,
Salem's full of culture,
for sure, this is true,
there are many old churches,
not knowing what lurches,
there are beaches and lots of parks,
you can bring your dogs there and allow them to bark,
so if you come to Salem,
to visit or to stay
you'll have much to do,
for many a day.
Where
O’ where
Are my friends?
They’re in the New Jerusalem
Where it’s calm as the dawn
Yet bright as the sun
The gates are made of fine jewels
Like the clusters of the vine
And its crystal floors as scintillating
As the best of sparkling wine
O’ where, O’ where
Are my friends
They’re in the New Jerusalem
At first she didn't understand, it was all new unto her innocent beauty..
The pain she could not contain her tears, as digging my nails into her back
My fangs deep her breast begging crying blood trickling soaked sweet, ecstasy.
The roar of voices became muted,
consumed by the beating of her heart.
Her eyes are wide in fright,
her life has hardly begun to start.
Yet here she is,
small bruised body tied to the stake.
Nobody will believe her,
that this punishment is a mistake.
Her parents won't even look her way,
as tears well in her eyes.
Even they think she's a monster,
her own parents fell for the lies.
'Mommy, Daddy!' she cried
'you can't let them burn me!'
But they stared at the ground,
just wishing they could flee.
The fire was lit,
her dress hem caught flame.
Her parents ignored her screams,
they stood exactly the same.
The crowed chanted 'witch!',
as the six year old burned.
Again, they killed an innocent,
and again, showed no concern.
the dark woods 'round
fed by hallowed hell fires,
blasphemous bells toll
echoes of satan's ire.
lifeless loves, livestock & lifestyle lulled
dolefully to sleep,
dust to dust
as we all must.
will i, peaceful & saved
in God's earthen hands be laid?
surely, lest to some devil is given the spade.
for evil hearts i yet weep,
as pure souls can savage demons surround.
did christ forsee a cauldron from the calvary mound?
Situated in an embroided spacious field.
Attracting fortunes,wealth and by honey filled.
Land moistured in peace and grace forlorn.
End of strife,struggle,sickness; Goodness un-turn.
Made for all that are drilled.
Second coming; Graced with heightened failure.
Amounting pleasant pressures and did into strife lure.
Lake around,fountains abound,caressing joy.
Entrusting hope and elating reward,by love coil.
Made for all that are like crystal pure.
Shaking and weighing her pupils.
Average gone,dred-ed fall; withering daffodils-
Leisured heart,pounced soul that wealth did make.
Enjoying the company of they that ate the saviour's cake.
Made for none but they that takes the pills.
17:01:09:12:08