twixt and tween two torn out tongues in twos,
shrooms shouted out where snakes often snooze.
warlock wishes witching hour was over today
but we are sitting in Salem, so hey, hey, hey
Where witches stir, and mock and feast.
There are werewolves and wizards, west and east.
Spritely spellbooks are spouting spells to do.
The witching hour overtakes me and you.
We hide in the corner, hoping to not be found.
The only two humans in this insane house underground.
Witch comes in and says “I smell” children and we freeze.
It seems easier in books. Now I am nowhere in ease.
I shush you, Sister, please do not give away our spot.
The witch begins chanting as she fills in a pot.
Her evil laugh almost stops my breathing and my heart.
I will finish this tomorrow. Remind me where to start.
My favorite orange top with the raised flowers in white
Made me prance into church, feeling beautiful and right
I sashayed down the aisle, feeling all that for sure that day
Until a young child said “You’re having a baby! Mrs. Kay.”’
At fifty-five years young, I did not think I could feel any worse.
That orange top went into the give-away-pile with my ugly black purse.
Unless clothing gives me joy, it is not going to be worn by me.
Style creates my mood. It always has, don’t you see?
You’re not wearing that! My husband said to my Bohemian wrap.
I sure as hell am, I replied. “Why don’t you go take a nap?”
He cannot ruin my pretty clothes with silly comments like this.
I gave him a snarl, the bad finger and a sweet sounding hiss.
I did wear the wrap, and my girlfriends all gathered around.
You look so wonderful today, they murmured with all kinds of sound.
I knew then that it was not as gorgeous as I had hoped it would be.
It went into the give-away-pile, while I tried on other clothes that fit me.
upon the fall evening of Novembers moon.
there is the call that makes a small tune.
some may guess it is a familiar sound.
others may find it hard and never found.
it is known through the the land far and wide.
sometimes they are seen, sometimes they hide.
many may think one animal i am speaking for.
some may be fooled because how they do score.
someone is saying this is easy and all should know.
someone else is blinded by the words that show.
what do you think of what I am speaking about.
please take a guess and speak without a shout.
no rhyme or reason to the guess you do make.
please take your time to ponder for your sake.
- To Give Away. -
Should someone ever come to me
To speak to me of these
That wisdom comes in little packages
And bad luck comes in threes
Of all the things Ive learnt the most
And still learning every day
That in all my failures featured
Who became my trusted teachers
The very ones that I abhored
Some lessons had to be repeated
Having been forgotten was before
My delight would be to share with one
These precious truths to give away
But there is no one come as yet
Always I'll be hoping
Someone comes today
Lying next to a sauntering stream,
I let my heart off to dreams,
Leaving behind the wreckage of shadows,
I gift myself off to meadows,
The fairies hold my hands together,
Casting a spell in a bed of heather.
And chant the words of patience and love,
We close our eyes and look above
To a sky full of hope,
a reaching hand, a helping rope,
I hold it tight so I can climb-
to places that are devoid of time.
you gave me my style, you gave me my swag
I took it and ran, im in my bag
you stood and watched, I loved that look
you left your smell my heart you took
love is blind, lust is too
lost my mind, I trusted you
this is your poem, i made it today
but just like my love, you gave it away