Best Witchery Poems
It looks like a simple brownstone building,
Not much different then any other but it’s residents,
Are of the haunted kind, not made of flesh and bone.
In every window a wind chime stirs, gently caressed by
A chilling winds icy finger tips, after all this is known as
The house of spirits.
Witchery or voodoo’s domain, it is a place of salvation for
Spiritual challenged, listen to the beautiful music they make,
Singing within this their walled cage of brick and mortar, these
Ethereal victims lost.
Here in peace they wait for the light to find them, a waiting chamber,
Of the lords misstep souls, those whom walked off the righteous path,
Yet are not without redemptions wanton of need.
Wanders of limbo’s astral plain, seekers whom roam blindly until
Finding a doorway threshold, then crossing over, into this the house
Of spirits.
A corridors slender passageway, a way stations layover for those tired
And weary travelers to rest until their final journey’s end comes for them,
Sanctuaries power house of the supernatural.
Behind these red doors dare not the mortal flesh clasp the gilded knockers,
For within are things of the unspoken variety, creature protectors waiting at
Bay for the stray intruder to wander forth upon this sacred ground.
Angels kindred brethren whom seek out evil, destroyers patrolling the
Darker shadows for night stalkers whom wish to feast upon the forsaken.
But light’s white power is a mightier force to be reckoned with, and vanquished
Will the devils spawn into the depths from which they came, into the bowels
Of hell shall these demons be thrown into the blackened pit from which they came?
In the twilight’s ethereal hour, a mid-ways breaking point between light and dark,
A shimmering glow strikes this standing watch tower of abandonment’s forgotten,
And heaven’s flood gates are opened unto them, calling these the lost upwards
Towards nirvana and at last know true peace.
It looks like a simple brownstone building,
Not much different then any other but it’s residents.
Are of the haunted kind, not made of flesh and bone.
In every window a wind chime stirs, gently caressed by
A chilling winds icy finger tips, after all this is known as
The house of spirits.
BY; CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Categories:
witchery, evil, fantasy, fear, god,
Form:
Free verse
Wakened, the winged and winsome wind
wandered westerly while whistling witchery.
It waltzed whimsically within woodlands -
whooshing, then whipping willows.
Worn, it waned. . . whispering wistfully.
Categories:
witchery, wind,
Form:
Alliteration
Forest fairies changing colors,
autumn's patchwork pattern weaving
in the foggy morning stillness
before winter's barren grieving,
up the river on the damp air,
up hollows through the shadowed vales
sounds the mournful, sobbing whistle:
once more memory rides the rails.
Childhood song for railroad watchers -
a tinge of hobo in my veins,
longing for the lonesome whistle
like a lost child for his name.
Life began beside the railway,
an open door to fantasy;
my dreamer's soul soaked in the flavor
hearing that whistle witchery.
Hungry tramps in search of breakfast
found our doorstep every time;
hobo network communication
marked mama's eggs and bacon "fine."
Bleary eyes and beards all stubble
made child imaginations fly
and the tales with which we clothed them
were wilder still than hobo lies.
Oh, for the days when trains were magic:
iron dragons breathing smoke and fire,
lashing long tails through the valleys
with monstrous strength that never tired.
Oh, the secrets that were hidden
behind the doors of plain boxcars;
feel the untamed urge to mount them
and plunder treasure from afar.
Delight was ours beyond measure
to waken on those special days,
finding, in the night, the dragon
had brought the circus train our way.
See the bearded lady waving
and catch the fat man's twinkling eye,
smell the coal smoke's pungent flavor
beneath our magic big top sky.
Grown up am I; steam train magic
comes swirling by once in a while
to view autumn's fleeting pageant
and make train lovers like me smile.
Nostalgic, rhythmic beating,
staccato yelps and sobbing wails
make my soul a mental hobo;
once more memory rides the rails.
Copyright, 2000
Faye Lanham Gibson
Categories:
witchery, america, childhood, memory, nostalgia,
Form:
Rhyme
"I read the news today, oh boy" - Beatles
apocalyptic revelations spinning 'round inside my head/have me tossing keep me turning wide awake upon my bed/so much hating too much lying chaos just outside my door/brainwashed zombies from their pulpits spewing vitriol and more/horsemen riding children dying famine warfare take their toll/politicians see their ratings drop in value with each poll/earth is battered lives are shattered bombs and land mines maim or kill/ Satan laughing spreads his wings as mankind wallows in his swill/locusts gather then they scatter out to spread the word of doom/news crawls flash across the telly in the safety of my room/insurrection tribulation agitating anxious minds/weary travelers seeking refuge thus fulfill prophetic signs/lift your heads up never give up soon will come the final fight/Armageddon's day of judgment soon will set all matters right
"Run to the hills, run for your lives" - Iron Maiden
broken trams cause traffic jams that clog the streets and alleyways/people running seeking shelter for it's now the end of days/can you hide us will you save us from the wrath of Christ the king/every day yes everywhere we hear his judgment message ring/ law defying God offending wicked men now merit death/liars rapists pedophiles blaspheme with their dying breath/peace they cry out strife they mete out hypocrites will face their end/frogs keep croaking propaganda via media it wends/retribution’s in all creatures causing some to turn on man/seven-headed beastlike monster marches to the Devil’s plan/Babylon with all her daughters sing a song of treachery/to their gods they give allegiance - spiritistic witchery/when the end comes have we earned some merit with the One who reigns/future blessings in the offing paradise will end all pain
“Amen. Come Lord Jesus” – Bible
Categories:
witchery, confusion, corruption, fear,
Form:
Rhyme
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
Categories:
witchery, funny, giggle,
Form:
Pleiades
In blackness,
I hear forked tongues
whisper wicked witchery,
hope within arthritic
ink slowly f a d e s
as darkness descends
upon snow-speckled heart,
and a murder of
crows can be heard~
cawing amidst flamingo fogs
carrying thoughtless art,
over the rolling hills
enveloped with
murky memories…
there I stretch these
breathless fingers~
gingerly reaching
for cashmere curtains,
reflecting
on jaded surfaces
adorned with lost
dreary dreams drenched
in scentless deceit.
But as liquified light of the
milky quartz moon stream,
I ponder, could I be
the one you think of
when stars shimmer
above lunar-kissed lakes~
while cauliflower clouds
drift amidst musical mists?
For I hear my name
in your plum poetry,
serenading love
in magnetic marigold metaphors…
Perhaps, there is no
right rhyme to reminisce~
when every forsaken rhythm,
and broken ballad
is spoken
through unbending
sangria silence.
Yet, tonight I gaze
beyond trembling skies,
hoping that maybe one day,
waning constellations
can see the
crystalline colors
of my tainted truth,
how the glow within
me has been f r o z e n~
left hanging in
swollen syllables of sorrow,
while I await
glorious gifts
of glistening rain to pour…
whimsical wind and
pulverizing waves can feel,
how my soul
thinks in ironic idioms
mourning misplaced musings~
with fickle verses
that phased
this eclipsed canvas
with restless phrases,
fragranced with
forgiving refrains.
I wonder is this
another
dreadful beginning,
or might this be
a blissful ending,
of a thunderstruck
tale that strikes,
from the honey-glazed abyss
of unknown gloaming…
Tomorrow, when twilight twinkles~
orchestrating
ethereal anthems,
in charismatic cadence,
find the silken silhouette of
tear-stained tulips
from my garden of grief~
there they sprout in
cerulean seclusion,
between fleeting feathered lines
of daisy dusk and
daffodil dawn.
Categories:
witchery, angst,
Form:
Free verse
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
Categories:
witchery, feelings, history,
Form:
Rhyme
The plains people such as Lakota, Crow and Ojibwa
Spread throughout the Native American world
Who believe that the sickness is borne out of
The individual’s being out of harmony in life.
Witchery, sorcery, wizardry ways they heal it
Out of the three they prefer the witchery way
Corn pollen is said to be pure and immaculate
Sprinkling with corn pollen helps to cure disharmony
In fact corn pollen so powerful and trusted
That people carry it simply for good luck.
Navajo shamans confirms it as the most powerful
It’s a healing bridge between humans and spirits
+++++++
Date:5-11-13
Dr. Ram Mehta
Sixth Place Win
Contest: Native American people by Shanity Rain
Categories:
witchery, health, religion,
Form:
Free verse
In four days from today
I wish you well as you go, and you shall walk again
Through the shadow of the day
Where memory forever my spirit keep in chain
And you shall inhale once more
Jasmines naked and dancing to the silver moon
Or hear whispering for sure
The tides that salt us that unwrinkled June
And I shall be far away
Praying as I always pray, waiting your return
To mend broken gaps of day
While among the yellow leaves I walk and yearn
Do not forget me, dearest
Do not with moon or river wander far away
But on pillow of your breast
Give me my rest, give me my hope to play
For bird songs there I know rise
Like angels vestal choir, or sirens seductive song
May bring the heart new surprise
Against all witchery there, keep your love strong
Walk by lignum vitae bloom
Cradle the blue mountain misty morning shape
Tremble at its thunder boom
And toss your cares across the bright sunlit landscape
There is healing in that place
A certain balm, and invigorating freedom there
An edible sense of grace
So delicious to those who walk with feet bare
Like children before the change
And yet for all the beauty and the music I keep
Another memory strange
The place where in my arms a princess fell asleep
The place where your kiss became
The elixir for which kings and heroes search and died
Where first the stag was made tame
No other beauty there may so my joy provide.
Categories:
witchery, nature, romance, travelbeauty, memory,
Form:
Verse
"BBBOOOHHH"
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
SPOOKY SCARY SCREAMS
SKELETONS SPINY SINGING
SHUFFLE SNICKERING.
HAUNTED HOUSE HOVERS
HALLOWEEN HOLIDAY HOSTS
HAVOC HAPPENINGS.
VOICES VIBRATE VEINS
VAMPIRES VEX VINTAGE VINE
VOLUMIZING VIEW.
GOBLINS GROAN GROWL GGGRRRHHH!
GHOST GAZEBO GRACES GLEE
GENERATES GRAND GLOW.
WITCHES WONDERLUST
WATCH, WAIT, WINK WITH WITCHERY
WISP WITHOUT WIDE WINGS.
BOOGIE BATS BELFRY
BLOODY BATH BELLOWS BEYOND
BEASTS BEMOANING BBBOOOHHH!!!
ALLITERATION WRITTEN IN HAIKU FOR HALLOWEEN FUN!
Categories:
witchery, holiday, halloween,
Form:
Alliteration
THE BLOOD MOON
In the crimson illusions of the blood moon,
The creatures of the night howl and swoon,
As the cursed emerge from hallows of the cryptic
Shadow realm, for it is the devil’s night, of incantations
Mystic spells, known as Sowen-Halloween!
Thin are veils expelled by this elliptical giant on high,
Turning into twisted illusionary phantoms, ghostly images
Of the past, melting as vaporous mists against this intrinsic
Shimmering opal ruby, hanging in the night’s sky above!
Trickery’s witchery cooking within the blackened caldron
Pot, a bitter sweet poisonous treat to feed the spoiled
Kindred of humanity!
Flight of the bat-winged vampiric do soar, reveling
In the crescent redden celestial body orbiting above,
Thirsts insatiable undead, flapping in the night gusts
Under currents these creatures of the evil demonic!
Hell hounds do bay at the unholy, this scarlet elliptical
Transfection mesmerizing these canid beasts of the
Accursed, banished by the flowering bud known
As the wolf-bang behold the devils bred, the werewolf!
In the harvesting graveyard, the unsanctified earth
Moves thus with a shakings dishevelment, as the
Soulless are disturbed within their unloosed soils
Deadened bedding, releasing the tormented,
Behold the rebirth of the zombies,
The walking undead!
In the scattering of the autumn leaves a crispness
Is sounded in a deafening breeze, as humanities
Children scrapper about beneath the blood moon!
Shouting trick or treat, smell my feet,
Give me something good to eat!
But on this specialist of haunted nights,
Others dwell within the darkness,
Waiting for the innocent to misstep into
Their realm of the unknown!
Be so aware human kindred, for tonight
Is Sowen-Halloween, and the blood moon
Does shines above!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Categories:
witchery, adventure, dark, fear, halloween,
Form:
Free verse
One Halloween night as the tired Gran, was
Putting her wee little darlings to bed at last,
The youngest begged her for a bed time story,
Make it scary grandma, please, oh please,
Just one story?
Scary she said, to the wee little lad, well
Then you will go to bed without a fight.
For your Gran is tired on this night
Of fright, the tiny wreck agreed, I will her
Grandson whole heartedly did, promise,
And thus begins our tall tale my spooky,
Friends!
Did you ever hear about the Halloween night
When the old witch had her enchanted pillow
Case was stolen, by a mischievous child?
At first it seemed just a harmless prank,
The youngster went house to house,
Begging as the others did, trick or treat,
Did the lad shout out, and each gave him
A tasty sweet treats confection.
But as the night wore on people started
To run out of their goodie candies delectable
Gifts, but the pillow case wanted more!
At the last house on the young lads block,
The lady beneath the lamp light post,
Shouted to him, sorry son I’m all out,
Better luck next year!
Then just pillow case began to twist and shift,
At hearing this ill news, the child didn’t
Understand what was happening, he
Realized the bag had a hold of him,
And would not allow the child to
Release his grip?
Give me candy or your life will I
So take, what a trick to play on this
Halloween night, the pillow case
Spoke in an eerily haunted voice!
But there is no more the child shakenly,
Replied then it’s your life.
Then just then, in a swishing flash
In swishing flash, the witch came down
From the darker side of the moon.
Bad pillow case, what have you done,
I’ve come to take you home with me,
From this thieving son of humanity!
The lad was instantly released,
As the old hag retrieved her stolen
Merchandise, I’m sorry, so sorry,
The child spoke shakenly, I won’t
Ever do anything like this again,
I so promise, and vow?
As the witch flew away, she said
Next time I’ll let my pillow case eat
You child of man, as she hackled
With a witchery laugh!
Oh my Gran, I’m too scared to sleep
Now, the old gran looked at her
Grandson, and politely spoke, go
To sleep young man, or I’ll get out
My pillow case, it’s hungry and wants
Something sweet to eat, then she so did
Laugh, with an eerie cackle, herself!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Categories:
witchery, adventure, fantasy, halloween, history,
Form:
Free verse
"The Kitchen"
Good old fashioned witchery in the kitchen
Casting spells to allure one's nose with manipulative spices
Sniffing the air with special interest,
People stop what they're doing
The toaster let's off a melodious chime in the background
Offering the crisp smell of lightly browned perfection
Doughy goodness never done haphazardly
This is what homemade bread is all about
The dinner bell sings with a ring-a ding-ding
Drawing people into her dining room from everywhere
With preparation that went into stirring a wonderful mix
Good recipes are those made for gathering the family
To fill a grumbling tummy instigated by culinary magic
The love that is put into the dish will never be fully appreciated
But the chef can see the company around the table is her gift returned
For performing a social stew, even if enjoyment lasts but a few minutes
She will dine on togetherness feeding her soul more than her stomach
There is only one moment each day when love fills her plate
A couple of whistling teapots start a chorus of piping hot hymns
Holy loving care for a lightly flavored fantasy
It is music to their ears
Such is the ultimate compliment, while serving to impatience
As good cooking gets eaten by faces over packed
Napkins are forgotten with the manners put aside
The final course of the meal and she can see her incantation working
All eyes are on her as she enters the dining room once more
For her last dish of sweetness, there is sweetness returned
By a sort of thankful yet quiet anticipation and in it enough is said
To be remembered later when hearing the discordant clanking of dishes
Categories:
witchery, caregiving, dedication, happiness, love,
Form:
Free verse
She beckoned me to enter her world of mystery
Incense, smoke and mirrors, and untold witchery
I started walking by her, but something pulled me in
And so I dropped my money in her ancient box of tin
She led me through a corridor, into a darkened room
I followed close behind her trail of sweet, but strange perfume
We sat down at a table and she cast her cards aside
Uncovering a crystal ball with dancing flames inside
Her eyes began to darken as she stared into the ball
She fell into a trance, and then the Gypsy told it all
She talked about my sorrows, my failures and my wins
She knew about my deepest fears and all about my sins
From childhood to the future, she spoke about my life.
The little girl, the soldier, the lover and the wife
She knew about my lovers, and all about my past
And strung them all together like a movie’s greatest cast
Then suddenly, the Gypsy woke, the fire left her eyes
As if awaking from a dream in genuine surprise
Seemingly unfazed by all the confidences told
Dreams filled with the secrets which the crystal ball did hold
She walked me back out to the door, and we said our goodbyes
Aware of how her visions would forever keep us tied
Now every time I want to know what will and will not be
I’ll ask the Fortune Teller, for her crystal ball can see
Categories:
witchery, fate, imagination, magic, me,
Form:
Rhyme
Come now, this story is one to tell everyone,
Come now, bring a handkerchief, you may just cry.
Somewhere far away, a city stained by the sun,
A witch lived in this town, and she loved a prince, oh my…
“I don’t need a magic to stop the clock,
No spell can achieve what I feel.
Our love and eyes are in a lock,
And this time, it is real.”
“Tied to a cross, I look longing at the sky.”
The people cry and and shout “Repent!”
The voices of prayers for their people die.
Forward a torch of fire is sent.
“If you are going to call my love witchery,
I will burn everything in the flame of hatred.
I never wanted to hurt anyone, can’t you see?
You people shall pay for how you acted!”
Come now, open your eyes and look to the burning sky,
Don’t forget this flame is nothing but justice.
Somewhere far away, the town’s sun sets and waves “goodbye,”
As another young witch rises, but Heartless.
“The time for happiness is done,”
The witch lies to the prince.
“Love is just a lie, it is no fun,
But I have loved him since.”
“Hear the witch crying louder as she’s tied up to her eye!”
The people cower in fear.
“Beware, shouting curses that would make your children die!”
The witch has nothing left, nothing to hold dear.
“Can’t believe all the fools I see, you fed them dirty lies!”
The people refuse to listen, for the truth is gone.
Searing flame rising higher as the last sun ray dies,
“The witch will be dead before dawn!”
“If this is how love is, then only my tears are the only thing I can leave!”
The witch breaks free, her wings erupting high.
“Take these tears, tell their story, this is not make-believe!
Feel now the weight of death and a lie!”
For the ABAB Witchcraft contest
Categories:
witchery, absence, anger, angst, betrayal,
Form: