A spell-cast lure
from hedonic
gypsy's shore
lewdly hitched
my witch-leery
blooded soil.

Tapestric flame
shrouded by emerald
jaspered slits
slaved the dark
mystic marked and
unthrottled the
unreasoned quest.

The emanation desired
a drunken dizzy
thirst to levy and lap
her cauldron's want
prelude to dissolved
barriers.

Staggered I succumbed
simmered, stirred
surrendered into her
cask filled mix
potion pured
forever now sworn
to the gypsied witch.

Let's start off, you like to call yourself a term used for a female
An insult that's often used
And once justified killing a female

Let's start off, I'm more worried about eating
My health failing
My heart beating

And your concern is a word I used in a sentence.

Get on my level bitch, there ain't no fucking time for you.
Get on my level bitch, there's nothing to remind me of you.
Get on my level bitch, and let's really call you a "witch"
To fucking kill you!
With words,
To justify
The absurdity
In your useless fucking existence
Peace.

let's just call him a confrontational "co-worker"

Dreams of misty forests
Keep me walking in my sleep
Searching for the answers
I find only with my feet

Songs of old religions
Sultry scent of old perfumes
Strange fires burn within me
I dance to their ancient tune

Memories and voices
Echoing through my mind
The truth is far stranger
Than any fantasy I may find

Dreams of dancing figures
Haunting every step I take
These songs will keep on singing
Until I am awake

Greetings my Beauties! Thought this would be proper for the time of year, so enjoy and Happy Samhain! :)
Addie D 7d

Suffered have I through time,
While searching for home
But I never found a homely planet
To accommodate my bitter sorrow.
Cursed I am, I believe
To not find happiness, ever.
I have tried, I swear
But fate does not release me.
Love I have not known
Nor warm lips have I felt
Or held a trembling hand
In my own unsure embrace.
Many years ago,
A witch had cursed my blood,
I know now
For I dwell alone in darkness
And my kin lives far away.
For I have not found happiness
Nor love have I known.
Cold lips have touched mine
And the sweet aroma of death
Locked onto my heart.
Cursed I am,
To live forever on this foul land
And when my death occurs
I would still wander
Maybe in a parallel world
But still close enough
to hear the wails of my tortured soul
And see the decay of my body.
That shan't come soon,
I need not hope.
My mind lives in fear
Of today and tomorrow,
However, the past I cherish;
For bitter kinlove I have known
And their lips brushed my cheek.
Their cold hands caressed my hair
And their cold souls left me for dead.

Poetic T Oct 7

which one was the one that the
Witch made into a frog "Riibbbittt"
which frog is your husband?

Witch could you please use
which ever spell you used to
Witch your curse upon...

which frog will slimy lips kiss,
Witch did laugh as kisses did kiss
which one please the wife did ask..

Witch looked as tears did fall,
which one do you love was asked?
Witch looked at her emotions..

Which one is ugly but has beauty within?
Witch looked at her eyes pondering downwards.
Which one was chosen? a kiss did show.

Witch smiled as smoke collected around all,
Which kiss saw beneath, a man now stood
Witch did smile, love is beneath the many layers

Witch taught a lesson of which we must all learn,
Which is that we must look beneath to find love..

If I were, a warlock
I'd need a witch with me
a pot for my potions
and mermaids, by the sea
some villagers, nearby
with warts, and phlegm, to spare
spells that are my pride
an elm, and willow, pear

We'll live as best we can
till the inquisition arrives
making sure my witchie wife
gets on her broom, and flies

Escaping to the wilderness
we'll set up our abode
without the persecution
of men, I've turned
into a toad

It's that season! ;D

The shadowy wall potently pays
Tribute to an open door.
Because the door will know
How to shut itself,
While the wall is just
A bean stalk with the gift
Of making a bit
Of shadow.

The low witch would walk
Distinctly away
from the Concrete bean stalk
As the wall would burn
And the shadow would turn
The witch's own shadow
Into a mice meadow.

And the witch hates mice
When throwing the dice
On the shadowy floor
Of the room with no door,
With no lock
To the dock
Where the concrete bean stalk
Has popped.

So the witch stays away
From the mice and the hay
Of her meadow-growing
Steps of annoying
Rhymes yours truly
Has made to undress
A reader's curiosity.

Played with random words at some point in the past and this is the result
Ren117 Sep 22

Does the breeze raise your skin?
Does the sun catch your hair?
Do you feel the soft grass,
By the stream when you're there?

cassie sky Sep 11

If the good witch catches you
She might just let you be
But if the bad witch catches you,
She's the last thing you'll ever see

A poem I recited for the neighborhood kids who like to climb all over my porch while I smoke cigarettes.. response was "she's really weird, I'm going home". Mission accomplished :o)
sage Sep 6

Flowers wander the seasons still
Lusting towards light, an aromaesthetic full bloom

In the coming chill and gloam rolls a fog,
dark and blight, bringing a slow collapse of skeleton

Lifeblood eclipsed with gloom and brume,
imbue faded with wane and wither

There is strength to a wilted flower
now blind to it's blush whorl, a spinning gown

Head held heavy
but still being held

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