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Aenri Sion Jun 30
I am a little scarecrow, standing in the farm all day
Made out of straws, twigs and hay
When the crows come, I made them go away
To protect the farm where I stay.

I am here all along
All day and all night long
Guarding the farm, firm and strong
While listening to the bird's song.

The crows that flies within the farm
Keeps on landing in my arms
Preventing them to do any harm
By using all of my charms.

For my job is a hard one
Always under the sun
But once I get my job done
It feels fulfilling and fun.

This is me
This is what I'm meant to be
Come to the farm and you'll see
Or you can also play with me.
Yağmur Kaya Dec 2018
on my own
Just me
and my thoughts
this person
Its feelings
and nothing more

in my world
They don't,
hear me
'Cause I'm just,
on my own

punching the walls
No one comes
'Cause i'm at home,
with me
and myself
Doesn't ring,
even my phone

this and that
Why are you,
so ******* bad?
I don't,
even understand,
why are you,
so ******* dead?

your ******* eyes!
There's no one,
who can realise,
that you,
******* exist!
That's why,
you want to end it,
So you can be,
in the dark,




Star BG Dec 2018
Scarecrow stands in wait
watching cross fields of florets.
"Beware birds of black,
begone and don't come back.
For I am mighty scarecrow.
Standing guard catching breeze in hat."
StrawJack , intoned to crow brat.

Straw man stands in wait,
taking job seriously in straw abode.
With pride loving his Mother Earth,
he dances with wind in mirth.
He's Friend to all who bloom
and bells that croon.
Spending company with
passing clouds and moon.
inspired by Tadios Yeab Thank you
S Nirmal Kumar Nov 2018
Arms akimbo
Danielle Jun 2018
I’ll be...
Your scarecrow?
Soft touch.
Something that is...
Whispered prayer.
Kept silent, still,
In what mind
Might be left.
Playing around with character poems.
Danial John Feb 2018
Bone marrow
Life’s path
Too narrow
Hidden wrath, because I’m a scarecrow
All I want is a heart
Seema Feb 2018
I am my masters slave
Surrounded by fields and shallow caves
I stand here looking upon the mighty corn field
My mouth is stuffed with grass thread sealed

I am my masters slave
When gust winds blow my hand starts to wave
Standing strong I show am brave
I love this job that he gave

I am my masters slave
Rain, storm, heat leaves me withered
But with my husky style am not bothered
I stand here without any complain

I am my masters slave
Day goes by with scaring crows
Night passes staring at the field rows
With my masters hat on, I surely give a **** pose

I am my masters slave
My head strapped on tight with rope
My hands and legs dangle on the pole
I don't have feelings neither am a living soul

I am my masters slave
Serving with all my will and might
An unpaid job but with a title given as scar knight
I am happy to live in my masters sight

I am my masters slave
I will always serve my masters orders
In all good and grieving times with my other hordes
All knitted and standing some at the borders

My master is my friend
I shall serve him faithfully till the end
Until my master finally rests in his grave
Till then, I am my masters slave

Fictional write. Spilling imagination.
Pagan Paul Oct 2017
The night the Veil is thinnest
between the living and the dead.
Samhain eve reverberates darkly,
Worlds hanging by a single thread.

The Moon is high and midnight approaching,
as she slips from beneath the sheets so warm,
gently placing her wand in the secret drawer,
dressed in her hooded cloak, making for the door.
Barefoot along a path so long and  dark,
accompanied by the sounds of insects chirping,
the night songs creeping around her body,
Spirits of the Night smile at her wanton flirting.
Her legs carry her across green meadows
and on through the deep woods to a field,
drawn by hunger to a lonely figure on a hill,
she lets drop her cloak, her nakedness revealed.

Alone and pinioned, arms extended,
a warning stood upon a mound,
the guardian, a sentinel unbended,
statuesque, and tithed to the ground.

Her voice lifts high above the wind
and soft incantations fall as spells.
The Enchantress sings songs of yearning,
chiming along with Samhains bells.
And the warm midnight air shimmers
as the figure starts to turn to flesh,
reconstruction from the sacred heart,
for her painful memories to redress.

Thunder rolled, lightening flashed,
as she sank down to her knees,
reaching out to release his manhood,
and the howling wind began to ease.
His responsive flesh quickens with blood,
but not one sound does he make,
as she spies a grin upon his face,
a true sign that he was fully awake.
Lips and tongue work hard to arouse,
so his wand would stand with pride.
She stands up trembling and bending over
reversing a step to take him inside.
The storm rages with wild abandon,
like their frantic mating upon the hill.
Then as conjoined lovers reach ******
the storm is spent, and everything is still.

And the Spirits of the Night smiled upon her bliss,
at the Enchantress Crossing the Veil of the Abyss.

And with the passing of the storm
the spell died and was no more.
The one thing that her lover left,
her ****** purse filled with straw.

So smiling at her naughty nights play
she set her feet towards her home,
on this the very darkest of nights,
where both the living and dead roam.
Along the paths and back to her bed,
she giggles manically and starts to sing,
hoping the future reveals her joy,
of what her scarecrow lover may bring.

Samhain night over, to deep sleep she goes,
and soon Winters Solstice bells will ring,
It is then her dreams will surely know
whether her belly will swell in the Spring.

© Pagan Paul (15/10/17)
Lady Ravenhill Sep 2017
Blackened crow circle
The fruits of her harvest
Protector of straw
©LadyofRavenhill 2017
Haiku #39
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