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 Oct 2018 Coraline Hatter
SDC
I tried to be a witch tonight,
followed the the moon's seductive rays.
How frightened was I-- the terror!
To see such light, not in day.

She howled like a wolverine,
coming up from the mountain.
She hushed away the good, the angel,
and there was space
for dark to prey.

These times, I see,
the feminist inferno--
She sings, "I feel the blame."
When men on Earth shun out her sorrow
She clings, and prays, and calls my name.
--- She who cannot hex, cannot heal
She who cannot curse, cannot cure. ---

She's a sweet little thing
a Moonflower’s paradigm
enjoying isolation and slumber by day
waking up to start her magick pursuits around society's bedtime

Some spells & her abilities, this Völva has bound to her mane
But for her, that's a better vessel than a pendant on a chain
And remember: When she dances,
if she shakes her hair, her power is twice obtained.

So if you're hooked on schadenfreude,
Cease and desist; Please knock that **** off.
Because, at the very least,
you'll be returned with what you've caused.

But if someone's harming you
or you're being hurt, but confused
whether the root of tormenting
brews with a What or a Who

Go ahead, take a deep breath
Dolour will be overcame
your Spirit's to be momentarily reclaimed
the Völva's arrived
and her prowess resides with
cures and curses alike.

--- She who cannot hex, cannot heal
She who cannot curse, cannot cure. ---
Please Curse Responsibly
"They never made a proper term to describe us."

She began.

The candle light
Flickered
In the warm
May breeze

She swirled the liquid in her cup,
She said it was wine.
It looked more like gold.

"But, still, they tried..."

Sucubus
Siren
Demon
Her lips curved around the word,
Almost
Fondly.
It made sense her name was

L
I
L
L
I
T
H

Lillith

But, when she placed her glass down, she stared up at the moon, her amber eyes glistening, almost bright yellow.

Witch.*


I don't remember the rest of the night,
But I know it was filled with kindness I've never known,
And it smelled
Like jasmine
And gardenias.
I lived a life of freedom,
To have it all replaced.
By a life of judgement and trial,
A horror yet to be faced.

****** the condemned,
For what they haven’t done.
String them up for songs
That have yet to be sung.

From the gallows they fall,
Into a pit of black dispair.
A murderous streak continues,
The country standing there.

They look on in distaste,
As more are hung in haste.
When the death toll starts to rise,
Upon this place,
God will close his eyes
Leaves crackle as she slowly steps
She enters the glade, her magic she preps
She listens for the sound, first soft then strong,
This music is the Faerie Song

A smile creeps onto her face
As she observes the spider weaving her lace
This creature trims the gowns of Dryads
The velvity green of summer they add

The wind blows and they bow their respect
Their rustling applause goes unchecked
She pauses by one revered, acient tree's heath
And pats the small fawn resting beneath

On she glides, though the mists of twighlight
For ahead she sees a scene so bright
Dancing 'round an enchanted flame
Are the Faerie people, frolicking without shame

She steps into the light and all goes still
She throws back her hood that kept out the chill
The Fair Folk all bow as their clothes they brush clean,
"Welcome home, Fair Lady, our own gentle Queen!"
.
Hair the colour of Ravens,
skin the colour of Crows,
eyes the colour of Rooks,
somehow it just flows,
as she walks
     down the path
               like a bride,
with the sway
     of the sultry,
and the smile
                     of the Huntress.
Her way lined
by the bowed heads
of willows,
                   meandering,
with the feint ******
of water bubbling
     over pebbles,
from the mountain stream
that wends in consort
and chimes
        with the bells on her toes.
Her breath, mist
in the morning air,
as she seeks her prey,
     a victim of lust,
with no pardon,
mossy rocks glide by
          as her pace slows,
dew soaking her feet,
     dawn glade,
                          the jaws of her trap.



© Pagan Paul (17/08/18)
.
Walking the dark path today :)
.
She was born of a forest
And rests her heart  
Shallow in pooled dreams
Dripping further than her tears
Falling to soft earth.

She eats rosed lilies
And pickled cattails
All while
Her footsteps leave no absence known
As her lithe nymph body melts into foliage.

And her arms permanently reach
Into the void of
All unknowable things.
Grasping at gossamer threads,
Like thoughts that can't be spun together.
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