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Kit Scott Mar 12
Sweat rolls down my back and my stomach swirls in agony
Oh that I am ill for you
Sick for your pleasure
My sweet lilac lady, purple princess of the pyre
Where my body burns and buzzes for your gentle love

Bane of the wolf and you chase the creature from my heart
I snap my teeth no more
The hood of the holy brother who looks over me
But you are the one divine

I cannot move for your care, numb of mind to your affection
Delicately lulling me into restfullness

And oh! There is pain
And I am frozen in place

But you sing my softly to sleep

My lips fail and stutter as you halt me in my breath
I am halfed now, never complete
You my other part, my other half
Stealing away my soul from the pit of my lungs
Your astounding beauty takes over me and
I am gone on you
Gone for you

And I drift- drift away with

My darling aconite who stays with me till the end
Just some practice, as opposed to anything particular inspired. I haven't written in a while and I've been reading some older poetry so the tone here is a little different than I'm used to, a little aged maybe? Anyhow, I hope you like it.

I suggest looking up 'chinese aconite' if you want to figure out just how uncreative I was with more than half of this.
Pauline Morris Apr 2016
I feed you wolfsbane for lunch
I know you ate it I heard the crunch

Now your sitting there ashen-faced
Your mind starting to embrace
That death will soon be your fate
You'll soon be at deaths creaking gate

You look at me in disbelief
But I just wanted some relief
I couldn't take your yammering on
But soon now you'll be gone

And my ears will no longer bleed
I only have to endure your dying plea
Your last breath to me is pure art
I never claimed to have a heart
Pauline Morris Mar 2016
There was a witch in the woods
No one thought was good
She wore a shirt tie dyed in hippies blood
She smoked lots and lots of bud
She had a pet nightingale
And at night it would not sing but yell

One day she decided to pay homage it mother earth
For nature to her powers had given birth
She thought that a picnic might do
So she went around setting the mood
She gathered the wolfsbane and some food
Lit the candles and the fire
Making it climb higher and higher
She stared her naked dance you could hear her wicked laughter
But there was an important thing she forgot to factor

The villagers really hated her so the tracked her down
And tackled her down to the ground
Tied her up and on one of her wrists was a big bruise
That was the final straw, it lit her fuse
And she sent them all
To the gates of hell for the fall
So no longer could they visit or call
Was challenged to write a poem using the words blod,nightingale, homage,picnic,wolfsbane,naked and bruise. So folks here it is!   ;)

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