they call it the witching hour
so call me a witch
I agree with their creed
to no living thing do harm
it was the male fairy tellers who wanted them to be evil
other women’s eyes popped open today
at this exact time
three a.m.
we are united in our femaleness
united in our willingness to be less, so others can feel more
I sense these other women
my sisters, my neighbors, my friends
we each have our own journeys
our own walk to walk, and yet we are in this together
I send them light and love
feeling they are doing this to me also
three a.m. the witching hour
Another oath I’ve sworn,
Another spoken lie.
Any way to home,
Court me into a door open wide.
Another totem born,
Another standing so high.
Another day,
Another poem,
Thoughts come in the form of rhyme.
Rows of corn,
Pleased to be born,
Taught to stand in line.
Thoughts worn and dry,
Fields seem forlorn,
Ought to stand and comply.
Grown with a thorn caught to my side,
I Seemed scorned,
But I fought not to die.
I let the thorn haunt me,
Caught witching my mind.
I left my oath to naught,
Gears switching in my mind.
Death,
you're freed;
With one taste
define nightlife;
Now I will take you,
drip for me as I taste
and then erase your anguish;
Give yourself to the Witching hour;
Strawberries decadent in moonlight,
it was not the apple that Eve wanted.
Whatever happened to the twelve o ‘clock rambler,
nocturnal venturesome brushstroke sort,
they face whirlwind snowfall, freezing ice,
while others brazenly squirm,
not for stoic diarist this threadbare exit,
exodus of the half-hearted humbug,
but ironclad ilk stubbornly remain,
eyes and ears are substitute antennas,
of this genus, genie, genius, glow worm ghost,
peaceful prowlers with pen on queue,
velvet moon worlds sidereal captured,
crescendo of cathartic bonhomie,
icy night frost punctured by high drive fog horns,
deft nib from dark ink manteau nomad,
who engross themselves in light and shade reflection,
as we balk at the eerie life we revel in,
drama under bridges, shadow figure chinwag,
river stream babble, blind alley gust,
eavesdrop on historic past teaser,
litter swept aural gossip whoosh,
eventide mournful dog bark heart tug,
darting elfin’s sly mind peep thereon,
yet the vagabond minstrel has to comb,
each backstreet, zebra crossing, sprawling suburb,
for inert sleepy after hour dozers,
who crave eye candy fodder as humdrum sidestep
midnight came and went
witching hour cast no ripples~
slumber undisturbed
Pixabay image by Orlandow
If it truly be the Witching Hour
from witch’s brew we need not cower
Only where’s the timepiece so precise
it rejects fresh hemlock for garden spice
The hands on the clock face read the time as 3:01
Which means the witching hour has begun
Its a time when witches and warlocks unite
Casting spells under the full moons bright light
Casting a circle to protect all those within
Using the power from the veil being thin
Calling and conjuring up helpful souls
Spirits that will help them reach their goals
Calling upon the elements of air, fire, water and earth
Asking for closure and times of rebirth
Closing the circle, giving thanks to goddesses and gods
Knowing this rite has improved life’s odds
When life gets tough, there is no need to cower
Learn to do spells and rituals during the witching hour.
3:00am; The hour of old souls & deep thinkers.
Dreamers though we're wide awake.
Loud hearts & silent eyes, our every thought the night to take.
Bewitching ours, the Witching hour, what mystery awaits.
~ 2020
witching winter kiss
so public intense house haunts
in spite a ghost host
1/24/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2021
It is the witching hour.
There are no breezes in a windowless house.
There are no shadows in a cave devoid of light.
There are no dreams in a sleepless night.
It is the witching hour.
When our endangered psyche roams.
When we are captured by pernicious spells.
When we are easy prey for rogue chieftains.
It is the witching hour.
When warlords game the system.
When sorcerers gaslight the faithful.
When conspiracy conquers fact.
Only the crestfallen sense the seamless
interval of peril.
Only the dejected resist the wizardry
of the despot.
Only the discouraged view the counterfeit
wallpaper of rot.
Only the discontented shout the truth
against the cacophony of sophistry.
But Stonehenge, the domain of the dead,
will always know first light,
will always vanquish the ruse of our sanctity,
will always sweep away the opiate specters
of tyranny.
The witching hour no more.
Light, the detox to our Stockholm syndrome.
The witching hour no more.
Democracy survives
to live another day.
I wake up at three every morning
The witching hour
Is it the cat?
Or something else?
Maybe it is so I can have some thinking time
Before the others get up.
I hear a voice smirk.
You live alone silly!
If you think I can go back to sleep now
You are as crazy as I am.
Your memory...
like hands around my neck,
taking my breath away.
Your name on my lips,
as if I had nothing else to say.
My final moment, my last prayer:
Please! Lord!
Make his arms my resting place.
witching fireside
a versus, bright host wallows
under the outside
~
fireside witching
a local, bright host wallows
into outside flames
~
rains OF flames
versus a, bright fiery…
host wallows outside
2/1/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2020©
Jack o'lanterns were all alight
To frighten spooks throughout the night
But there was an hitch
When a nasty witch
Made all our candy Kryptonite
What is it that tears the mind
In the witching hours of 4 ‘til Dawn;
Thoughts of horror darting and piercing with pain,
“Jesus help me, Help me through, make me strong”
Panic crackling in the air
“Get behind me, Satan, this is not fair!”
To fight the fight this night for sleep,
Not to spoil the coming day through;
To force happy scenes and memories of yesterdays,
Only to find they are not there, then struggle
Struggle to revive them – to fight – to fight
Sheets are twisted, now here is the dawn,
Sun rays cross the new-mown lawn,
There is coffee waiting, butterflies fly goodbye,
The witching hours now doomed to die.
Aha, I know who banished them away
While in my fear I could not hear
The True Light did answer my plea.
The Lord is My Shepherd and my Peace.
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