Long Witching hour Poems

Unquotable quotes: Paris, the last week of the August reprieve – XXXV
 Part One                     ...

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A Halloween Tale
  By Lee Bragan 

Darkness creeps across the land,
The midnight hour is close at hand.
A night of evil awaits us all
On whom will Death choose to call?
There’s no place to hide till...

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A walk home 
...And there he lie in fetid squalor,
Upon the chaise in vacant parlour...

“What befell this young man?” a query.
A sorrowful tale - tis quite dreary. 
Tricks! The superstitious mind doth play. 
Bested -...

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It has been ages since the laughter died, which was many suns ago,
Soon swept away by fleeting time, like the brief giggle of a rainbow.

My vacant halls now are silent, and the flower garden is...

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Halloween Night

Remember the dead on ‘Allhallowtide’ and do not forget the living 
not just for an evening and not for one night as Halloween is for all 
time’s sake for souls and places old and...

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The never ending witching hour or which-thing our.. choices will delude in decisions way... 

Either way, with all of the hocus poke-us and...
Smoke from broken mirrors... 
it's hard to out-cast the true reflection of these,...

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icy wind blasts 
straight through the 
cracks and drafts 
blowing the world down
eerie, ugly, haunting sound 
won't be ignored

then comes the rain 
stinging the streets
bullets of hail
whipping glass 
a cold evil night 
tormenting my mind...

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Friday morning, 3am, I'm awake because sleep eludes me. Mr. Sandman has gone out drinking with my friend Beryl, no doubt, and subsequently neglected his charge in sending me off to slumber. It's cold. The...

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On a dare
        full well knowing its reputation
                    ...

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The year is almost over. 
And I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with that notion. 
It’s just another trip around the Sun for some semi self-aware 
monkeys that can’t get a grip on...

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standin on a corner he looks up to the sky
his phone rings as he steps into his ride
no time to think
when it rings its because do's on the other side
red and blue
panicked, frozen like a...

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Oh death, 
You are ugly!
Get away from me!
Each time you laugh
Your guttural laugh,
Like a Python,
I know you have devoured
Another poor soul
I know because evil forest
Lives next door
Every witching hour,
I observe your lifeless victims
From my tiny...

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Written: October 20, 2023, 

If an opera cannot be played by an organ grinder, it's not going to achieve immortality. By Thomas Beecham
            ...

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The dark merlot stains my lips blood-red
Casting me in a vampire light
The bottle sits half empty by my elbow
As silent and motionless as I
We keep each other company, the bottle and me
Two cynical sentinels keeping...

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Before they silence my voice
Under jackboots and bone crushing dogs
I must set fort before dusk
As I am shielded 
By his gore
And crafted like Daniel
In the lions den
And Jonah in the whales gut

I must scurry to...

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These days, you just gotta be so aware,
always on the alert ... busy looking around
Harm you might step into, so sniff the air ...
dog trouble’s out there laying snares down

Even when things appear harmless as...

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I hear the October winds whispering and I think it knows,
as the witching hour arrives and a harvest moon glows,
only once a year, do we celebrate death on Halloween night,
it is a time for remembrance,...

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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,...

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*****Anyone who knows my poetry knows how I often use Greek mythology in my works. This poem revolves around the idea of the moon longing to become 'into being' so as to be with Venus,...

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Inspiring coffins side by side they lay
Cemeteries are old, eerie, and so beautiful to me today
Walking amongst the tombstones - I feel a calm peace
Of how bad these souls want so desperately again to breathe
Semicircles...

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Dear god, she prays, an unfamiliar sensation, 
The words tripping clumsily off her tongue: 
Dear God, I know I don’t talk to you as often as I should 
And I know I sin like it’s...

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eyes hurt
but cant stop moving
clicking fingers
send letters sprawling across
too-bright screen
knew it would be like this
tonight
nothing to do
but wish someone was here
to be awake with me
in three hours
it will be a full day without sleep
sleep
sleep
dont need...

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Lay me to rest in marbled halls with angels at my head,
not lying here in the mud of Ypres with khaki turning red.
Let me die a noble death, one that's worth fighting for,
not to avenge...

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Here I am, 
trying to push juice 
on the nakedness of paper, 
trying to rev up 
the tip of my tool. 
Ink. Words. My hand. 
Nothing. 
Nothing is born. 
My spirit cries, 
and mourns over...

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They project at night in the wee hours looking
to see what they can harvest
Be still so that you can grow to know peace or else
the lessons reaped will be the hardest
They don't know your reach...

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