Best Witch Poems
The WITCH
A
furore
in the town,
draped in black gown,
a WITCH is brewing a storm.
Bringing nightfall to the dainty
spiked with malevolence and vanity
spitting a curse from her wicked tongue
Silently scoffing the blood of old and young
eyes of medusa , cursed to the bottom of the sea
she is the descendent of a dark world of fantasy.
The magic emanates from her ravenous eyes,
rendering the stories of deceit and lies,
grimaced into the gloominess,
of shallows and emptiness,
she is brewing a storm
draped in a black
Gown .
© By rEdfiery and Liam Mc Daid 2016
The witch and the tiger sat on opposite sides of the moon,
Starring at each other, wondering who would eat whom
The witch was cagey, wily and wicked,
And she had magic powers, so she was not afraid.
The moon shook the witch off.
She had a broom, which she grabbed at the last minute.
The tiger was fierce and majestic.
He had sun-like yellow eyes, and stripes that moved.
The moon was going to let the tiger stay,
But something weird happened.
The tiger gave the moon a little bite
Because that is what a tiger does.
So the moon shook the tiger off too
Luckily, the tiger had wings, and flew.
So you never know
How a story will end.
Wicked cold wimp weaving
Wrinkled woes on Samhain
Warlock of witchery
Waving threefold fiction
Whilst hanging on chaos
Wretched and worthless from
Worn out dry iced love spells
Salem
_________________________________________
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
_________________________________________
Date: 11/14/2018
Sponsor: Julia Ward
contest: Unrest of Spirit
Why brought they flowers to a witch's grave
With greening foliage and color bursts,
With drab, dark pigments that white lilies save?
Nail tight the coffin, Lest we all be cursed.
Atop the new grave, the bouquet was laid.
By morn the flowers have withered to black.
Wafting of chants on wind's organ is played,
While gale of rebirth is calling her back.
The scent of perfume has become hot steam
Where heat of the day swelters the foul ground.
Escape impossible! So it would seem.
Yet casket's empty and witch is unfound.
My love
we celebrate your birth
on this night of Sanhaim
when the worlds are whisper-thin
and your magic sings its sweetest song.
Your love draws stars from the sky
lures spirits from the tombs
snow falls from the summer sky
a love so sacred and magical.
Let us meet
surrounded by forest
as the wind
whispers its secret to the trees
we seek the sacred creek
leading to the river that caresses the earth
where flowers rise in rapture to the sun.
This day I am yours
you are mine
we are inseparable in death
by any power or pain
for it is such true love
no death awaits us.
Come with me my love
come back to the one
feel my spirit and take flight
let us see all of creation
let us seek favor from the divine.
God and goddess we shall become
gods of true and powerful devotion
let us be graced
by the moon goddess
by the dragon of the stars
allowing us to burn hot with passion.
Let us draw from the power of the earth
alive and solid
beneath our feet
fertile valley of existence
all our wants and needs
will be satisfied.
Embrace this love
blessed be
your feet
your knees
your womb
your breasts
your lips
blessed be your soul.
My sweet love scented by jasmine
I seek you on the silver slant of moonlight
beautiful moon goddess
your magic is all enthralling
I succumb to your witches cry
I come to your lair softly lit
your Wiccan pattern on the floor to guide me
save me from the river of flames
with the manifestation of your desires
for in you my lover
I am charmed...
there once was an old witch whose pies
were unique in flavor and size
she delighted her covens
when she opened her ovens
with dozens of old crusty guys.
Winnie Witch loves this time of year
Halloween time is drawing near
In her pink underwear
She’ll give you quite a scare
Then she’ll hastily disappear!
Away on her broomstick she flew
Ended up in darkest Peru
She went on a hike
Then got on her bike
It’s the thing some travelers do!
On our Island Halloween is called 'Hop Tu Naa' The local shops are starting to have displays in their windows which inspired the poem
09~21~16
“Close the book, ring the bell, light the candle.”
The witch’s words resounded in my ears.
My problems now were more than I could handle
and so I hoped she’d vanquish all my fears.
She stared at me across the darkened room
and then commanded me that I must stay
until my wish was granted. Then a broom
she grabbed, and out the door she flew away!
The magic lay in me, the hag had said.
I only had to wish with all my might.
But with my kind of luck, I might be dead
before I’d get what I had wished that night.
I sit here still; she’s left me with a curse!
No health care yet, and now my back is worse!
(sorry to belabor this, but now you see what preoccupies
my mind these days!! Linda's contests always seem
to bring out this topic for me lately. The gypsy referred to
in my title was in my last poem I did for Linda!)
By Andrea Dietrich for Linda-Marie's
"BELL, BOOK AND CANDLE" Poetry Contest
The warlock said to the witch,
Man, ain't it grand living large like Oz,
being bigly Emerald City rich
The witch crowed back,
I get paid good for giving speeches
that have no policy incantation glitch
The warlock laughed hard and long,
then chortled with maniacal glee:
I like the way you got a huge fee
for selling that "Deal Me In" dirge song
The witch returned the faint praise
with a piercing scowl and a sinister smile
You got those lemmings running thru a maze,
chasing your tale that it's all rigged anyhow
The warlock started getting miffed,
and his hair began to burn with an orange glow
He mockingly said, Endora, all the polls show
that you're a walking political gift
The witch angrily retorted: What spell did you use
to make yourself become 50 feet tall
Oh yeah, that's right. Should Humpty Dumpty lose,
it won't be much of a fall off that stupid wall
The warlock let out a sigh, and said:
You know we have to spit venom
at each other on the campaign stump
That's just how it is, and has to be
The witch let out a sigh too, and said:
Since our youthful days of wearing denim,
it's something we can't tell the voting chumps
That we're really friends, you and me
Then they both hugged each other,
and said goodbye to one another privately
The witch winked at the warlock, and cackled this:
No matter who wins,
I'm offering well wishes to you
So don't forget to send me a mean tweet
The warlock nodded back at the witch, and bellowed this:
Once the results are in,
I'll reply with well wishes too
But of course, don't you forget to delete
It seems head witch Della,
Had a yen for a fella,
Who considered himself a catch.
He thought to woo her,
And then to just lose her,
But in Della he'd met his match.
Although she was smitten,
She's no new born kitten,
And she's been down this road before.
Knew he was a user,
Had heard his accusers,
And this little witch knew the score.
It wasn't long,
Before he sang his song,
To another who'd caught his eye;
But she too was a witch,
And a bit of a snitch,
And told Della they shared the same guy.
He'd thought he'd keep her guessin',
But she taught him a lesson,
And never a tear did she cry.
Her heart filled with anger,
His life now in danger,
She'd cast her spell by and by.
His pleading she rejects,
For he is an insect,
And she won't forgive him his lies.
Now all who see him,
Refuse to receive him.
He's no longer a man, he's a fly.
There once was a cool guy named Jack
Jack o’ lanterns attacked his back
Witch Cate blew straight through
Umbrella askew
She saved the famed wizard Jack Black
*The House with a Clock in Its Walls
Once upon a Pike’s Peak dreary,
This witch said her name was Carrie,
Fog so thick couldn’t see nary,
Though her screech was a bit scary!
Suddenly the thick fog lifted,
What I saw was nary gifted,
She stared as on broom she shifted,
Astrid the broom her dress drifted.
I saw her multi colored socks,
Her face was marked with multi pocks,
Ugly wench, as small pile of rocks,
She said, “Aren’t I a beauty’s fox?”
I said, “You are beauty’s least!
On your face, maggots have feasts!
You resemble something deceased!
Beauty’s returned as the beast.”
“Your beauty has been impeached,
Your ugly face has been leeched,
Dried up prune not lovely peach,
Leave me now of thee I beseech.”
Now visit to Pike’s Peak is bleary,
Because of Carrie I’m leery,
Resemblance to exes is eerie,
Place doesn’t fit my game theory!
leaf sculptured with ice
crystal clear jewellery
glistens and dances
a spell by the north's white witch
her reign over land begins
A
furore
in the town,
draped in black gown,
a WITCH is brewing a storm.
Bringing nightfall to the dainty
spiked with malevolence and vanity
spitting a curse from her wicked tongue
Silently scoffing the blood of old and young
eyes of Meddussa , cursed to the bottom of the sea
she is the descendant of a dark world of fantasy.
The magic emanates from her ravenous eyes,
rendering the stories of deceit and lies,
grimaced into the gloominess,
of shallows and emptiness,
she is brewing a storm
draped in a black
Gown .
© By rEdfiery and Liam Mc Daid 2016