I heard it was a ground hog and a raccoon
loud angry screeching and wailing woke us up for the day
the morning is usually a lot more quiet
this is the country
crow hag races toward the fight
if anyone will involve themselves it is her
the rest of us clear a path
she is more forceful than a WWII general
she is wearing an orange cloak today
I glimpse it as she races forward
what is on her head?
maybe a kerchief? someone suggests
We do not put anything past her
crow hag rules this forest and the swamp
an orchestra leader
the bull frog dares not croak without her permission
mirror shows me a creature I do not recognize
I stare at the image
unclear who she is
or how she got into my body
I am young and svelte
this old woman is corpulent
my neck is svelte
this old woman has nasty neck wrinkles
why do you reflect me as a hag? I ask the mirror
the mirror laughs
The Howling Hag is an ally of Strahd
She bids this vampires calling
By keeping the heroes trapped in the crypt
A natural 20?
Can we ask for anything more?
So many rolls, so many outcomes!
But behold, the howling hag figurine
Is missing!!!
Could the black cat Stella have taken her?
Count Strahd von Zaravoic will do his best
But with one ally less
He’s sure to be in distress
With varying armor classes
Our heroes fight on
Is that daylight entering the crypt?
With a fell swoop
Stella bites off the howling hag’s head
And victory has been achieved!!!
Bursting with passion at the seam,
She entered and settled in the room.
Intent on telling them it is good to dream,
She showed them proof bound in the spines of books.
Taught them that centuries of change
Had granted free access to being visible.
Their eyes gleamed with purpose
To think their dreams were permissible.
Like prisoners who had fully served their time,
They strapped hope on their backs,
Promise throbbing in their hearts
When she told them the condition was benign.
And with tireless exhilaration
She invited them to stand.
She stitched their wings with her
Magic wand.
But just when
they were to take flight,
a shriek filled the air
It was an ominous sight
As the old hag
Swooped in
on her systematic broom.
Stole
their dreams.
Left them gagged.
vegetable hag came by her name and occupation naturally
She grows vegetables in gardens, I think she has twenty-three
her carrots are enormous, her radishes amazingly red
She will be hoeing and growing every year until she is dead
We tried to help her in the garden, but she chased us away
You just want to steal my produce, she screamed at my cousin Gray
I will never offer to help her again, he said. She is a mean old hag.
I was glad we got chased off, taking care of a garden can be a drag.
My mother buys vegetable hag’s produce on corner across the street.
She took her a cupcake, and vegetable hag said “oh, my, what a treat!”
her turnips are round and ripe. and her lettuce is crispy and green.
She is not only a vegetable hag, she is the vegetable queen.
Please, refuse the disguised rag
That wearer still makes a hag.
Be bold to say “No, thank you”
While leaving “Later, see you!
A coat of curious color
That offers the eye pallor,
Long threadbare to soonest sag
And straight goes into a bag….
Delight not in robe you’ve got,
Last wearer had liked it not;
Underneath its arms ink blot
And on its left breast blood clot.
Choose the true wisdom or don’t:
On this talking not a lot;
In ignorance one could rot
While asking A Big Fool’s “What?”
Jester invited the purple hag to dine.
She noticed his weird nasty ugly whine.
She gives him voice lessons.
In twenty-eight sessions.
Their partnership is delicate and fine.
He wanted to rest. She wanted to pester.
His eyes closed. She yelled “Lester!”
The garage door needs fixing, she began to fester.
He was getting tired of his wife, Old Ester.
Can I please have a tiny bit of peace?
She asked if he had yet signed the lease.
He was exhausted from an eight-hour day.
She wanted him to work; he wanted to play.
He grabbed the remote and clicked on the TV.
She began to bug him rather incessantly.
She wanted him to mow the lawn or clean his car.
She was no longer his girlfriend, a shining star.
She had become a chore, a drudge, a hounding hag.
He wanted to get away, in a car that could drag.
He left the house, pretending to go get a cigarette.
That was twenty-six years ago, and he is not back yet.
We slowly walked along the beach, granddaughter and me,
in silence, save for the distant roaring of the sea.
At times, she ran ahead, dancing, skipping on the sand
once in a while, returning to take me by the hand.
With heads bowed, we both scoured earnestly along the shore
She and I were both aware what we were searching for.
Somewhere among the seaweed, crab shells, and old fish bones,
we would find those unique rocks with holes she called Hag Stones.
Occasionally, a game or two; some won, some lost.
It usually involved pebbles, skipped, piled, or tossed.
Screams of laughter, wet bottoms, falling in the water;
both tired, we head back home to mother and to daughter.
We slowly walked along the beach, granddaughter and me,
in silence, save for the distant roaring of the sea.
I have more answers because I'm older than is she
But I also have more questions, so it seems to me.
He is around you now, the wizened woman said.
She had blue and purple hair, and she looked a hundred.
The lines in her face were crisscrossing like a pie that fell.
What would she know, this woman who professed to know.
Who is it? I asked, fearful that it might be my angry uncle.
It is a young boy, she said, about nine. He has caramel skin.
A bad guess if she was guessing as I am pasty white like glue.
And dark eyes, she told me; I think his name is Little Wolf.
My ears perked up like my German Shepherd’s ears
When he hears the truck of an Amazon delivery truck.
Little Wolf was the name of my imaginary friend
When I was three or four.
He had seemed real to me then.
Now at sixty-nine, I had almost forgotten him.
He is your guardian angel, she told me.
He helps you do the right thing.
She had credence now.
I saw wisdom in her eyes.
Her highway lined face changed to kind.
I was convinced.
I am the scary Bella
I haven't got a fella
To bring me my umbrella
in the pouring rain.
Had one, he was yella
Kicked in his patella
Ran away from Bella
limping, screaming pain.
bounty brags blushing
purpled eyes puncturing
hoisted hag seducing
callous crimson tuning
into hankering hall
she opened door
gaunt glottis shrunk
like leering lust's
none inside thrust
"I'll revive him,
mystic May's wind
pebbles pruning pills"
then she left,
reincarnation at crest.
19:12:24:07:30
~Note~ An imitation of Lascelles Abercrombie's "Witchcraft: New Style"
There once was a crusty old hag
whose poetry made people gag.
She once wrote a sonnet,
the folks threw up on it
and tossed it away in a bag.
She went to a psychic who said,
while turning up cards black and red,
“I can see why they gripe,
just stop writing this tripe.
Have you thought of knitting instead?”
Sea Hag at last got to Popeye
Spiked his spinach with Viagra (Oh my!)
Olive Oyl was overtly outraged and insulted
When a SCANDELOUS, sad affair soon after resulted...
Written on: 6/1/2015
Submitted for: Kim’s Clerihew contest
She came out of the sea at twilight
Weak and trembling, bent with age
Her hair entwined with seaweed
The pounding surf a watery stage. .
She stood awhile and listened
then with the most frightful groan
Beaconed with a bony finger
To her minions in the foam..
Out of the waves they scrambled
Creatures from the dark and deep
Unleashed this one dark night
From their prison did they creep..
The danced the Funky Monkey
while the stars shown overhead
With abandon celebrated freedom
From their dark and watery bed...
So had the sun and stars aligned
Just this once in untold years
To break the spell they suffered
And dry their unending tears..
And with the light of faintest dawn
They turned from their heavenly shore
All crept back into the thrashing sea
And their likes were seen no more
I wrote this with my grandson several years ago..i thought it would be fun to bring it back again..
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