Nature spreading its Warm light,
Releasing its past, like our reflection.
Healing process so beautiful,
That mesmerizes mere beings,
Forgetting it is a healing phase,
Mourning like fools.
Maple leaves on the ground,
Crunchy with vibrant colours.
Yellow, orange borrowed from nature like elixirs,
Leaving green just like mere beings' youth.
Growing old but with beauty,
Mere beings miss the magic.
Mourning with sorrows,
While beauty shines like blessings.
Light is eternal,so is darkness
So are we.
Nature spreading its Warm light,
Releasing its past, like our reflection.
Healing process so beautiful,
That mesmerizes mere beings,
Forgetting it's a healing phase,
Mourning like fools.
Maple leaves on the ground,
Crunchy with vibrant colours.
Yellow, orange borrowed from nature like elixir,
Leaving green just like mere beings' youth.
Growing old but with beauty,
Mere beings miss the magic.
Mourning with sorrows,
While beauty shines like blessings.
Light is eternal,so is darkness
So are we.
my moonlit montage
myriads of memories
monolith moments
Steel cauldron simmers setting a spell,
my slow stir renders it potent.
With this salt circle I chant..
‘Release the witch in me.’
I feed skills within,
magic expands.
Controlled by
clockwise
brew.
These flowers,
they talk to me.
They comfort me.
I’ve seen these trees,
I’ve seen these bushes,
I’ve seen these leaves,
I’ve seen all of it.
But these flowers,
they’re walking with me,
they’re following me.
They love me.
They remind me why I’m on this hike.
This is why.
I’ve been in unfortunate forests,
but this is all worth it.
They create this waterfall.
I don’t know how they did it,
but they handmade it.
They’ve been listening too.
I’ve been wishing to see a waterfall since hour three;
It’s hour six.
They’ve been listening,
they’ve been waking,
they’ve been talking,
they’ve been building.
All for me,
to make my hike
worthwhile…
Walking under the harvest moon
Pitch black ~ so Erie
But magnificent moon
Captivated by its beauty
Looking over the water
No street lights~ stars shine bright
How i love the moon and stars
Come walk with me tonight
Dancing in the moonlight
Sigh ~ let it shine forever
Stars twinkled all over the sky
Like an orchestra playing a symphony
Perfect moment in time under ~Harvest moon
parenthesis of butterfly wings
yellow-black monarchial things
from caterpillars derived
cocooned and then pried
like renegade cotton candy fleeing its stick
~ one of nature's slick little tricks
Jasmine veiled with jinxed jewels
Justified my own escape.
Me a genie serving a 5-year sentence
In the Disney Dungeons.
My lawyer was Tinkerbell's uncle.
Recovering alcoholic.
Not so recovering if you ask me.
But back to Jasmine.
She caused such a commotion
It gave me a way out.
The Magic Carpet was waiting for her
But found me. I hopped on.
And like some Arabian Uber
There was a man already "on board"
Named John Kay. And the rest is history.
as the day's end envelopes
the stars unveiling
a mystical initiation, embryonic
where shadows wait in anticipation
of the emerging moon
lingering in the mockingbird's lament
twinkling stars illuminate the path
i look over at you
adjusting the needs a car demands
Italian, Chinese, Seafood
looking out the window
returning with a playful smile
those checkered tables will do
i return a mischievous smile
putting the car into gear
i can do that
it is said you cannot step
into the river twice
the magic is when you realize
so is the night
however, the real inquiry life asks
is the magic in you
Oregon 9/30/26
The Sky Shines (through my unconscious, aligned).
The sky shines deep within my awakened mind.
Bright particles beam through my open thoughts;
Clairvoyance shows the path that I have sought.
While walking, dreams are left so far behind!
I'm weaving a gossamer veil that I'll bind
With all the rainbow colors now combined.
This is the path that dreamers long have sought.
The sky shines.
Don't be afraid of these sweet faery signs.
You are a brilliant light that underlines
The wild enchantment of a magic knot
That you might see in my paper's ink blot!
Let your mind be bright, free, and unconfined.
The sky shines!
They called us witches to keep us silent,
our words curling in smoke. They held
our heads under water, tied feet to a stake;
judged those without children or mark upon
skin. They accused us of misleading children,
that poor crops were due to our sin. Crone and
whore, bossy and loud; battle-axe and tart,
frigid and shrew. They called us witches to cover
our screams, they called us witches to hide
our power. They called us witches to spread myth,
they called us witches to dispel our magic. Strong
and independent, courageous and true; brave and
united, nurturer and proud. They call us witches?
A name begets importance. We call them, nothing.
More inspiration from Practical Magic. Love remains the greatest power.
Our magical threads
By Michelle Morris
20/09/2026
This family tree
Not a perfect history
Blessings and curses
Always our reality
An ancient line
Our magical threads
Seeds sown deep
Grown to perfection
The mystery
The stories old
Love torn apart
Curses unfolded
Sisterly love
Family ties
Mothers and fathers
Loved ones who died
This history
We can't repeat
Time to break the curse
To bleed for freedom
Our blood we spill
Combining our hands
Destroying the darkness
Changes time and sands
That hourglass
We just reversed
Love overcame
Our family curse
And you and me
Our love and light
Forever expanded
To win the fight
© Michelle Morris, 2026
Reflections of reading poetry SK
At eight years old I read the famous lines
and spellbound, read each word again,
then I was there: I stood in snowy woods,
no longer seeing school and constant rain.
I walk where old spells loosen,
d
r
i
f
t
i
n
g
like specters
through the rafters of memory.
My iron cauldron sits
cold
in the corner.
Herbs hang brittle
on the wall,
whispering
their forgotten names.
Even the moon seems wary
of the path I take~
a thin,
watchful crescent
that remembers more than it reveals.
I have outlived the glamor,
the bright-eyed hunger
for power shaped from shadow.
What remains is quieter,
but it follows me like a presence
I once called
mine.
Sometimes I feel the old magic
stir behind me~
a faint rustle,
a shift of air,
as though the past
is trying on my silhouette.
But I do not turn.
I keep walking
through the dusk,
my haunting gentler now~
a reminder, not a claim:
even spells leave echoes
worth carrying.
Celebrating the sun
being in the same position amongst the stars
as it was when you were born
is an insane tradition
But like magic
Humans get to make things meaningful
by imbuing meaning into things
And as you
mean a lot to me
I celebrate
the sun's return to Virgo,
the fair maiden,
for my
fair maiden
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.