Best Witching Poems
smoke billowed from her boiling pot
a spell for ages she had sought
a special treat
for kids to eat
some pickled plums so teeth won't rot
but children laughed at what she made
to taste the swill they were afraid
the witch was sad
and got real mad
their taunts one day would be repaid
all hallows eve had come and went
a day the kids would soon resent
a curse was laid
the children paid
their treats turned into hard cement
they moaned and wept and some did cry
asking questions and pleading why
they were upset
with no regret
wishing that witch would surely die
now this is what I have been told
the days have passed and I am old
one girl returned
her lesson learned
and turned a heart to warm from cold
**it is never to late to say you are sorry*
Categories:
witching, candy, children, forgiveness, halloween,
Form:
Limerick
What is it that tears the mind
In the witching hours of 4 ‘til Dawn;
Thoughts of horror darting and piercing with pain,
“Jesus help me, Help me through, make me strong”
Panic crackling in the air
“Get behind me, Satan, this is not fair!”
To fight the fight this night for sleep,
Not to spoil the coming day through;
To force happy scenes and memories of yesterdays,
Only to find they are not there, then struggle
Struggle to revive them – to fight – to fight
Sheets are twisted, now here is the dawn,
Sun rays cross the new-mown lawn,
There is coffee waiting, butterflies fly goodbye,
The witching hours now doomed to die.
Aha, I know who banished them away
While in my fear I could not hear
The True Light did answer my plea.
The Lord is My Shepherd and my Peace.
Categories:
witching, faith, fear,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Heralding in the witching hour,
Halloween resurrects the dead.
And creatures of the night waken,
as zombies, vampires, and goblins.
The portals to hell are opened,
allowing spirits to roam free.
And for one night, they come to life,
gathering within the shadows.
Witches, werewolves, demons, and ghosts
mingle amidst the unwary.
And before this foul evening ends,
Ghouls will feed upon human flesh.
Abominations and monsters
rise up upon this Hallowed Eve.
But at the stroke of midnight, hell's
gates are sealed till next Halloween.
Categories:
witching, evil, halloween, hyperbole, imagery,
Form:
Blank verse
The Witching hour draws nigh, and I stay;
Here, compelled to write, to find words
To express undiscovered thoughts and emotions.
The gentle fingers of wine coax them forth;
That I may examine them at my leisure,
To discern reason and explanation for my
Foolish desire, that we should be one.
I seek the subtle form of verse, to impress;
But beneath, beneath, lies the passion of hope,
That drives me forward, despite your cold charity.
Verse alone is not enough, since you do not read
My scribblings nor hear me speak in rhyme or
Reason, to persuade you to take me in.
What then do I do to have you consider my suit?
Categories:
witching, love,
Form:
Sonnet
I heard her cackling, wicked with delight
Looked up to find her evil silhouette
Against the amber moon Halloween night
Seeing me below, she made a dire threat
“At midnight your teeth will fall from your head
Your thick, lustrous hair will drop to the floor
Your sight will be blocked by a veil of lead
And you won’t see your children anymore”
From my porch I ran in and slammed the door
Stowed candy away, no more trick or treat
Disappointing the kids I did abhor
But I had to lie down, get off my feet
Shivering in bed, I dreaded her curse
Felt her hazel eyes still staring at me
Waiting for the onset of things adverse
Her menacing presence chortled with glee
Clock struck twelve; I had to call it a night
So warily I removed my brown wig
I took out the dentures that felt so tight
Took off strong glasses, hoping she’d renege
*Written August 10, 2014
Categories:
witching, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
It is the witching hour.
There are no breezes in a windowless house.
There are no shadows in a cave devoid of light.
There are no dreams in a sleepless night.
It is the witching hour.
When our endangered psyche roams.
When we are captured by pernicious spells.
When we are easy prey for rogue chieftains.
It is the witching hour.
When warlords game the system.
When sorcerers gaslight the faithful.
When conspiracy conquers fact.
Only the crestfallen sense the seamless
interval of peril.
Only the dejected resist the wizardry
of the despot.
Only the discouraged view the counterfeit
wallpaper of rot.
Only the discontented shout the truth
against the cacophony of sophistry.
But Stonehenge, the domain of the dead,
will always know first light,
will always vanquish the ruse of our sanctity,
will always sweep away the opiate specters
of tyranny.
The witching hour no more.
Light, the detox to our Stockholm syndrome.
The witching hour no more.
Democracy survives
to live another day.
Categories:
witching, corruption, evil, language, people,
Form:
Free verse
Oh me oh my the clock strokes mid of night
Time for the sisters to have some wiccan delight.
It is known as the witching hour
Oh Blessed Be ...feel their powers!
They call upon the powers of earth
To show that they are of worth.
Air, Fire, Water, Earth and Spirit
They know Christians won't hear it.
Their hands thrown up to the skies
As they chant and give their cries
Hoping to get the Goddess's answer
As one they move and appear a dancer.
Hear their delightful pleas
Now they are on their kness.
Oh the wind is picking up
As they drink from their cup.
The rain does now shower
For the Wiccans doth this devour
This very display of their Power
After all this is the Witching Hour.
Categories:
witching, imagination, mystery
Form:
Heroic Couplet
WITCHING HOUR
As the witching hour approaches the witches gather in the ruined stone circle.
The moon is full, clouds scudding across her pale face. Candles are lit and placed in a circle and the wine is passed around.
Now the witches start their magic, the intensity of it gaining strength and power.
They cast their magic circle and call up their own Gods and Goddesses to help them with their spells.
All in black and purple with silver jewellery glinting in the moonlight, this is the witching hour, a time when the witches are in their element.
Only they understand their magic work that connects them with their magic world of nature.
Categories:
witching, beauty, earth, magic, religion,
Form:
Verse
Whatever happened to the twelve o ‘clock rambler,
nocturnal venturesome brushstroke sort,
they paint sound and city pastel,
never at a loss for inspiration,
weather neither bar nor barrier,
in the face of whirlwind snowfall,
freezing ice, torrential downpour,
within themselves, he, she, they plod on,
hardship is adopted, never cast aside,
while others brazenly squirm,
wallow in uproarious denial,
wilt before the slightest storm,
taking flight in arid comfort zone,
shelter is their first convenient port,
not for stoic diarist this threadbare exit,
exodus of the half-hearted humbug,
but ironclad ilk stubbornly remain,
eyes and ears are substitute antennas,
alert does not begin an ample portrait,
of this wilful dwindling genus,
genus, genie, genius, glow worm ghost,
peaceful prowlers with pen on queue,
they capture worlds sidereal,
under velvet moon imagining bespoke,
crescendo of cathartic bonhomie,
icy night frost punctured by high drive fog horns,
deft nib from dark ink manteau nomad,
who engross themselves in light and shade reflection,
how magical their canny weave lexicon,
for us timid souls to relish evermore,
as we balk at the eerie life we revel in,
vicarious the kismet, excitement from afar,
drama under bridges, shadow figure chinwag,
river stream babble, blind alley gust,
eavesdrop on historic past teaser,
litter swept aural gossip whoosh,
eventide mournful dog bark heart tug,
darting elfin’s sly mind peep thereon,
yet the vagabond minstrel has to comb,
each backstreet, zebra crossing, sprawling suburb,
for inert sleepy after hour dozers,
who crave eye candy fodder as humdrum sidestep
Categories:
witching, art, beautiful, beauty, celebration,
Form:
Free verse
midnight came and went
witching hour cast no ripples~
slumber undisturbed
Pixabay image by Orlandow
Categories:
witching, fantasy, horror,
Form:
Haiku
Awakened, in the dead of night
Seized by a feeling of fright
I struggle to catch my breath
My heart pounding in my chest
Surely my thoughts are disillusioned
Glimpsing a shadow translucent
I say to myself with nervous snicker
The drowsy mind is a trickster
Over my head, I pull the blanket
Suddenly something grabs my ankle
Upright I sit in utter horror
Praying I live to see tomorrow
The sounds of scratching echoes
A screeching laugh bellows
The stench of rotting flesh lingers
Down my arm moves icy fingers
Have mercy on my worthless soul
The clock chimes it's immortal toll
The time of hour, I could foresee
Every night at a quarter past three.
Categories:
witching, dark, fear, horror, magic,
Form:
Narrative
The witching hour,
The poet’s hour,
An hour that doesn’t exist.
At this hour you question everything,
And nothing.
The answers always the same,
The answer doesn’t exist.
Categories:
witching, philosophy,
Form:
Free verse
She comes to me
In the witching hour
Bruised n beaten
To feed on my power
To bring life in
A universe
Given to death
She takes my breath
To breathe life anew
Shes my soulmate
Of my breude
Categories:
witching, desire, destiny, devotion, love,
Form:
Free verse
Shadow, shadow on the wall.
Merry monsters in the hall;
Ghostly goblins gently peek
At little children faking sleep.
The night is strange as low it roams
Around the snugly lighted homes.
The young ones feel its magic power;
The clock has struck the children’s hour!
Grabbing costumes from the pegs
Then down the stairs on little legs.
To children’s promised midnight feast,
As grownups fall for Trick or Treat.
Grinning faces laughing merry;
Crouching shadows dark and scary.
Late this night there are no dreams
For this night’s name is HALLOWEEN!
Categories:
witching, adventure, celebration, dark, fun,
Form:
Rhyme
On the bank of the Mississippi River
under a cottonwood tree,
watching the river's water flow;
a young man holds a thin hickory
fishing pole in hand,
to be alone with his thoughts,
seeping deep into the delicate,
soothing, murmur of the river.
He came from a poor indigent family.
Life was a bit obtuse for him.
School was boring
and pointless in his mind.
He seemed to most enjoy getting into trouble.
The folks around felt he was always
making egregious blunders.
One astronomical twilight night
he dared his friend
to walk through the consecrate
dilapidated graveyard at midnight.
A stir in the air,
there was movement there.
A void within the eerie luminous cemetery.
There in the open graves,
laid the sacred dead in their beds.
Heartrending moans of the wilderness
somewhere far-off in the wind.
The hours disordered breathing
circulated a redder glow;
hell rising upon the headstones.
A sinking dull feeling fell upon both boys;
down to their knees they stumbled and fell.
Awaking from their delirium
sought to mediate disputes
of what happened the night before.
8/18/2019
Categories:
witching, boy, death, fear,
Form:
Free verse