why does she get two familiars? The other witches asked their Daddies.
They had no idea, but her parents did drive three brand new Caddies.
Perhaps they are on the take, criminals, one suggested with glee.
Poof, the little witch turned that Daddy into an elm tree.
Maybe she did something wonderful, another Daddy said.
Little witch thought he was a suck up, and turned him into a bed.
The third daddy kept his mouth shut, seeing women’s wrath before.
He had six older sisters, whose antics most of us would deplore.
We witches in training all chose a familiar.
It was the rule at the School of the Transvillar.
I chose a gray bat with a broken wing.
Taylor selected a crawdad that could sing.
Molly picked a toad with an enormous toe.
I switched out the bat for a broken mule from Idaho.
Samantha chose a taxidermied man from Kalamazoo.
He had been stuffed by his nasty wife Little Lu.
But he’s stuffed, we argued. What can he do?
The stuffed guy said “I can out-sing and dance most of you.”
Apparently he had been motorized.
But asked Taylor “has he also been sanitized?”
Winnie was luxuriously enjoying her bath of bliss
When the cat and kits came in to snarl and hiss
Out! She said, but her familiars did not give her the time of day.
They confidently began to slip and slide and chase and play.
Come one, come all
To hear the family call
We count every head
Reminiscing about our dead
Play our games
With important names
Casting out the slain
Who wants only gain
We decorate our leaders
Wealthy little feeders
Our birds have open mouths
Right under their spouts
Pestilence are fixtures
In a poor man's mixture
Orderly houses crafted
For God's only grafted
...saints
Written by Trudy Schrader on 04-10-2023
I met Lydia when I needed a friend
She was always quiet, and hid under the bed
I learned how to watch what would happen from her.
I was always happy to see a familiar face
Coming through the door or window frame
Never to stay for long, just to let me know she was there
Babs died and at Thanksgiving Harriett told me
About her closest friend of twenty three
Who I would always be two years older for
Every year I lived, I heard the voices
Of the women and the familiars
Who watched after me with care.
Ah, here you have come again,
Again you sit in this chair,
How familiar this room so is,
So solitaire in your life, ha, how fair it is,
How you engulf those emotions in bitter fire,
Drown your frown in a realization of emptiness,
How you realize the loneliness and abandonment of your mind,
Your hope and wish to fill the empty, lonely void,
Perhaps one day it shall all change,
But in the now you suffer,
You wonder your discoveries,
How enlightening were they really?
Hanging your head so low,
As if seeming to pray in the eyes of others,
In amidst reality you hide the corners of your saddened mouth,
Your hands caressing the wounded mask,
To lose yourself in words,
You search for comfort,
A faded hand upon your shoulder,
But your shoulders carry only the burdens of others,
To have your shoulders broken,
No others to offer theirs up,
You watch the river wash you away,
As you drown and ascend to your new home up above.
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