Short Crone Poems
Short Crone Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Crone by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Crone by length and keyword.
The older woman is seasoned, sassy and secretive, just ask Ms Mim
She can unleash her confidences, but she has learned to keep them
Knowing when to keep quiet, is learned in the hardest of ways
But the experienced crone realizes it makes for much better days
I can read your mind she says
she is a crone, old and wizened
Arrogant and haughty, aloof, opinionated
But not magical or empathetic
She is not my idea of goodness
I paste a frozen smile on my face
which she is not wise enough to read or understand
and go another direction
They never know what a crone like me will do
I have news for them
I never know myself
Sometimes God has me do things that make no sense
I am wondering “Where did that idea come from?”
especially when it works beautifully.
Forgetting for two seconds
that I have never ever
been in charge of me.
Please let me be a tiny drone today.
Hovering at a house far away.
In Omaha at a quarter ‘til two.
I’ll see my grandchildren, that’s what I’ll do!
I’ll buzz past their heads and give them a wave.
All six will laugh, giggle, rant, wiggle and rave.
Hello Space Grandma! Please land and stay!
I am a crone drone, I’ll yell, then I’ll fly away.
An withered crone in a park
where the young play.
Her eyes are deep set
but the blue within them is clear.
Her flesh clings to crooked bones,
yet she is a vision
there among the youthful,
a message for all those
who will overcome.
She’s foreshadowing, an augury
that we all must, in the end,
survive ourselves
with a formidable and life well lived.
Silhouette of a sassy
Little sex pot
Trembling in midnight air
By her big white picture windowsill
Captured by a muse she feeds in her mind
Loved by homegrown worshippers
She never really has to leave
Bitter is as bitter does
And what has been seen are her bitter,
Reddened lips
And her fake silk-lined soul
All crazy nail biting
Vengeance and delusion
Oh the petulant crone!
Form:
A froth of turquoise topped waves
pummeled the lava stone
grinding asphalt-black slabs into bits which hugged the waters edge.
Skeletal shards of white coral were scattered
amongst the dried, scorched after birth.
Relentlessly, the ocean pounded
leapt with a jet-engine roar into the air.
Balancing droplets of salt water
upon lichen covered shelves and prominences of pitchy rock
Growth in the cauldron of the Crone.
The haggardly crone defiantly stood on Lone Tree Hill.
So valiant that she gave the newly born cat a chill.
Daring the north wind to blow her around or down,
There were no other witches or warlocks anywhere around.
I wanted to be your familiar, the tiny cat said.
How can I be your sidekick if you are going to be dead?
The wizened hag cackled, and stood hillside bound.
She would train this scared-y cat to feel safe and sound.
A heart as brittle as last Autumns leaves,
Withers away and crumbles into dust.
This life is such a lonely place,
And for my death do I now lust.
A plaintive wail rips my throat,
As I entreat upon any name,
That will save me from my own destruction,
And return me whole and sane.
But alas, this wish upon my lips,
Shall be the last one I whisper.
The Death-Crone comes to me in my dreams,
And kills me gently in my slumber.
Dirty scowling crone
Old as the wind
Tear-stained cheeks
Sadness of knowing
Shuffling quietly
Through twisted shadows
She is darker than night
Darker than you
Stony chill of her breath
Whistling across
Withered yellow lips
The foulest of crypts
Hating eyes
Hating you
Earthen pits of decay
Windows to oblivion
Embracing you…
Twitching, dying bats
Scurrying, gnawing rats
Screaming, slicing cats
Don’t look
Don’t watch
Don’t see
Don’t know
Ever
The wizened crone understands bee medicine
Her friends are honey bees and bumblebees.
They have given her a special formula
Unshared with any other humans
She gives it to an adventurer
He discovers a new country.
She sells it to a rapist.
He falls down dead.
It helps good people get stronger
It gives seekers what they need
But those who hurt others do not do well with it
The old crone continues doling out the medicine.
Loving the results.