wizards and witches
regular schedule
common practices
just same oh same oh
not for Halloween
transformation
disappearing
reappearing
powerful spell
sorcery
elixir
witch’s curse
magic
potion
hex
The witches brew was real thick
Also, they needed a gullible trick
To season their brew
All the way through
Those bones they wanted to pick
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.
Naked witchlings rooted in my head
While the sun was sleeping under my bed
Counting their fingers, scribbling spells
Burning candles, ringing bells
Killing cats and gutting rats
Reading runes and epithets
Did I say they were naked
There is that....
they've been a thousand lifetimes getting here
I'll give them a thousand more
To get out of my hair
D.C. Jordan
Of course she's black with eyes of green
disposition keen and cleverly mean
If she cross your path bad luck for sure
a witches curse haunting will occur
She rides the broom stick with glee
she is the witches flying company
The night moon full and cat on prowl
bewitch the souls with her meow
She lurks about and spies
the roaming cat the witches eyes
She sees whatever her cat does see
Witches ways mortals fear and believe
The witches cat hunts for souls elapse
wandering earth before their time lapse
Zombie beings to serve her Master Witch
black cat green devil eyes bewitch and fetch
The witches cat laps her bowl of cream
she stretches and curls by the fire gleam
A night well done as she purrs to sleep
the old witch smiles for her cat she keeps.
Buzzing, hissing, static.
Crunching up lightning under my toes.
Witches brew lit up.
Tattered.
Old rugs used up in crime scenes.
Police lights.
Power’s out, silly.
I have this illness.
Gave me senses.
Buzzing, hissing, static.
I have an illness made up of witches brew and power outages.
Keening witches in the dunes
raven tresses gemmed with salt
crystal droplets twined in crowns.
Haunted chants ice the air
Boats sway on fragrant surf.
Ancient calling as dead stir
Bare shores greet ash flakes
Imprints etched of hidden souls
to engrave a memory shorn.
Lou, queen of the witches was astounded when
She was awakened by the lull of an October wind
The elves and faeries had worked on a gorgeous gown
Come on down! They giggled. “Come on down!”
It was a wonderful ensemble complete with purple hat.
My favorite colors! She told them, delighted as her cat.
They had brought M and M kibble for her kitty, Girl.
She put on the gown and gave a happy joyful twirl.
How nice of you! She told them, you deserved a treat.
In the kitchen she gave them some sweets to eat.
They could not stop grinning, feeling respected by Lou.
You are now my dressmakers, she said. No one else will do.
the Halloween dance of the witches and such
Was attended by those who love it very much
There were skeletons and goblins, ghosts galore
All kinds of costumes, no dancer a bore.
They danced around a bonfire, witches and all
Frankenstein and Dracula, gnomes but a foot tall
Ghosts filled the sky, there were mad hatters too
As far as I know they danced in the morning ‘til two
The witches sleep late in April
Broomsticks swaying on budding branches
With those noses you’d think they’d snore
But are actually fairly quiet
Their fires burn less brightly
What with the April showers
Squirrels steer clear of the smoldering embers
A passing fox tip-toes warily
I believe they dream
As the moonless nights
Echo with unintelligible murmurs
Curses muffled by a thickening fog
An eerie presence unnerves the sunrise
Shadows playing tag ‘neath leafless claws
Shuffle through the remnants of their night
As the witches sleep late in April
the words were whispered through the wind’s kindness
all over the forest, we could hear the tiny rumblings
the fire witches have arrived, it is their year!
We never knew when or if they would show up
Sometimes they were gone for fifty years
Other times, they would appear in a mere twenty-two.
As a young oak, I had never seen them before today.
I watched the three of them glide through the forest.
We never knew if they were up to goodness or harm.
But they were a sight, something I would never forget
in their colorful dresses, whose hems glowed with bonfire magic.
three teen witches skipped into our little hamlet
Trying to catch them were my cousins Brett and Chet
The witches disappeared before their faces I guess
They spoke of it for years, said my cousin, Tess.
Did you see them too? I asked Tess, hopefully.
I was across the square, you can’t swear by me.
How did they know they were witches? I asked her.
Pointed hats, broomsticks, and they could disappear.
charming armed with spells
she had bewitched her lover
accused by neighbor
july ninety two
prominent salem trials
three hundred years back
she was innocent
her drowning was proof of this
no consolation
I come to you
Like a ritual
On the same hour
10 pm
Knowing we share the same love
Witches chasing love for the moon.
Curiosity kills the cat,
of a friend who’s a spoilt little brat,
Though the saying spreads through chat,
a whisper of this and that.
But it isn’t a mere brickbat,
that’s between a cat and a rat,
Though fierce, just like their combat,
when they twirl like an acrobat.
It’s a crash-land in a sabbat,
on a strangely shimmering mat,
Where witches don their funny hat,
and chant beneath the moonlit flat.
In the confusion the cat sat,
beside a wide-eyed, curious bat,
A witch drew them into a spat,
and sent them down with a splat.
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