"sorceress" poems
Awakens not my wolf-man to the moon
For that it shines a silver discus full,
For he may rise when clouds the thickest dull
The round moon’s lustre, or when the clock strikes noon.
One sorceress alone doth have the pow’r
T’arouse the beast, and he doth her obey;
And from her side the beast doth never stray,—
So loveth him the witch and the witching hour.
Yet, by my troth, the wolf-man hath no love
For her and hers which greater is than mine:
By daylight, blackest night, or moony shine,
My love doth neither wax nor wane nor rove.
However, unlike the love the beast doth keep,
My love can’t wake, for it doth never sleep.
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 12:10 PM UTC
Un-Thrifting Essence, what of Loneliness
Allows the Hill across to bend and weep?
Who is to blame? Are you the Sorceress
Drawn to cast an Un-Witting Spell so deep?
These are all but Questions; If I may add
Failed on Writ, yet convenient to Subject
Here is the Adjective I thought I had
But the Spell did lie thus made to reject
My Immortal Covenant: To Keep you,
Dearest Talent; A Servant's Dud I make
Within a shadow shines a Brighter Hue,
A Promise I no longer will Forsake:
Though in Essence always revealed un-been
I am that Shadow never revealed un-seen.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 5:20 AM UTC
Your hair was full of roses in the dewfall as we danced,
The sorceress enchanting and the paladin entranced,
In the starlight as we wove us in a web of silk and steel
Immemorial as the marble in the halls of Boabdil,
In the pleasuance of the roses with the fountains and the yews
Where the snowy Sierra soothed us with the breezes and the dews!
In the starlight as we trembled from a laugh to a caress,
And the God came warm upon us in our pagan allegresse.
Was the Baile de la Bona too seductive? Did you feel
Through the silence and the softness all the tension of the steel?
For your hair was full of roses, and my flesh was full of thorns,
And the midnight came upon us worth a million crazy morns.
Ah! my Gipsy, my Gitana, my Saliya! were you fain
For the dance to turn to earnest? - O the sunny land of Spain!
My Gitana, my Saliya! more delicious than a dove!
With your hair aflame with roses and your lips alight with love!
Shall I see you, shall I kiss you once again? I wander far
From the sunny land of summer to the icy Polar Star.
I shall find you, I shall have you! I am coming back again
From the filth and fog to seek you in the sunny land of Spain.
I shall find you, my Gitana, my Saliya! as of old
With your hair aflame with roses and your body gay with gold.
I shall find you, I shall have you, in the summer and the south
With our passion in your body and our love upon your mouth -
With our wonder and our worship be the world aflame anew!
My Gitana, my Saliya! I am coming back to you!
6.6k
Tonight, the Witch Awakens
Tonight, the Witch Returns
Tonight, the Souls Forsaken
Come back around to watch us burn
The morning air is warm, but today's wind brings a chill
I can sense the coming storm of vengeance and evil
Black leaves on the breeze, a crow ****** in flight
And a sanguine shimmer to the gold in the glistening sunrise
Tonight, the Witch Awakens
Tonight, the Witch Returns
Tonight, the Souls Forsaken
Come back around to watch us burn
The afternoon Infernal, it seems they've all gone mad
To chaos doomed eternal, could it be we've all been had?
This town is somehow different, a plague across the land
You can hear it in the trees, you can feel it in the sand
Tonight, the Witch Awakens
Tonight, the Witch Returns
Tonight, the Souls Forsaken
Come back around to watch us burn
At Dusk, in desperation, the sun gives up the ghost
The spirit of the sorceress descends upon the coast
The Wicked and the Innocent - both paralyzed in fear
Children of her enemies, your judgment day is here!
Feb 26, 2016
Feb 26, 2016 at 9:59 AM UTC
Through frost-thick weather
This witch sidles, fingers crooked, as if
Caught in a hazardous medium that might
Merely by its continuing
Attach her to heaven.
At eye's envious corner
Crow's-feet copy veining on a stained leaf;
Cold squint steals sky's color; while bruit
Of bells calls holy ones, her tongue
Backtalks at the raven
Claeving furred air
Over her skull's midden; no knife
Rivals her whetted look, divining what conceit
Waylays simple girls, church-going,
And what heart's oven
Craves most to cook batter
Rich in strayings with every amorous oaf,
Ready, for a trinket,
To squander owl-hours on bracken bedding,
Flesh unshriven.
Against ****** prayer
This sorceress sets mirrors enough
To distract beauty's thought;
Lovesick at first fond song,
Each vain girl's driven
To believe beyond heart's flare
No fire is, nor in any book proof
Sun hoists soul up after lids fall shut;
So she wills all to the black king.
The worst sloven
Vies with best queen over
Right to blaze as satan's wife;
Housed in earth, those million brides shriek out.
Some burn short, some long,
Staked in pride's coven.
4.2k
Athena
Athena the Warrioress
Athena the Sorceress
Athena the Healeress
Athena the Priestess
Athena fights eternally for Light
Her Heart shines forever Bright
And for Eternity Athena will slay
Those who abuse sentient beings in any way
She is the One who fights for Eternity
Until all sentient beings become a Divinity
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 12:27 AM UTC
I am a borrower
collecting things that shine
all stashed in cracks and hidey-holes
where the rafters meet the roof
in the basement floorboards
lift one and you'll see
the treasures I've collected
two gorgeous glassy eyes
seven gilded antique buttons
a bouquet of sweetly fragrant lilies
a gleaming jar of pixie dust
three noble barristers
an Irishman netting butterfly dreams
a sorceress of the endless prairie
windmills like soldiers all in a line
the saddest porcelain doll
a small brown bear
trains screaming by on underground rails
a sprinkling of desert blooms
six jack-in-the-boxes so I'm always surprised
the hairless stuffed dog that bit me as a child
a Rickenbacker bass softly riffing the blues
a farmer's Ovation to accompany my woes
seashells that sing the ocean breeze
a merman from the Northern seas
tucked away in every space
packed within each sweet hollow
these simple pleasures I have borrowed
Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 12:27 PM UTC
[*I can only survive my life in two ways;
wasted by the fire of my gratification,
wasted by the fire of my longing.*]
Love had just woven my
intolerable shirt of flame, this
bedazzled blouse betwixt
an area brimming with smoke
and my own heart.
this consuming flame...
the flame that fuels itself with
my everything.
I am a sorceress at the stake.
I feel the fire sear
into my skin,
destroying the weak,
frail covering
to my body,
disseminating to parts
I didn’t know
existed.
The torment is utterly
consuming.
Everything within me,
every ounce of strength
that remains, struggles to
shed this shirt of flame.
[This devised torment
by love Herself.]
Yet, the blazing fire
is frantic for my body.
The flames
cling to me,
fast to my skin,
like you have
...and do
...and will.
We suspire the smoke from the flames which
destroy all that surrounds us;
it becomes a part of us that
our bodies will never be able
to discern...
to notice...
to erase.
Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 2:51 AM UTC
crimson and magic
to splash without panic
in waves of compliance
for drugs made from science
and sorceress who summon the simple solutions
illusions! illusions!
of grander worth loosing
confusing the process will aid not for coptic
nor catholic
or elsewhere semantics
act frantic in panic
to sob without reason
treason! say treason!
the exit of reason
to wander in wander a fate beyond yonder
set ponder a path set by mind on the map
of solutions and systems
domestic conditions
yet wild apparitions
appear as conditioned - concerns
to a mindset as stern and subtracted
by fractions of actions repulsed by distraction
disgruntled reactions
supposing contractions
created the action
conceived from distractions
The reasons
let change be for seasons
while i stay the rock in the pond
either frozen not gone
as the watcher
still watching
content upon watching
exhaling the notion
that motions for movement
atonement! atonement!
with further consolement
atlas like the breeze of the gavel
let both parties ravel and tug
whether free or debugged
only mind over matter
unscrambles the lather
too see that is free
is like blind sight at sea
with the waves of conforming
to drown is informing
if not then be peace !
for all parties deceased
by a water so deep you could drown in your sleep
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 11:16 PM UTC
By those soft tods of wool
With which the air is full;
By all those tinctures there,
That paint the hemisphere;
By dews and drizzling rain
That swell the golden grain;
By all those sweets that be
I’ the flowery nunnery;
By silent nights, and the
Three forms of Hecate;
By all aspects that bless
The sober sorceress,
While juice she strains, and pith
To make her philters with;
By time that hastens on
Things to perfection;
And by yourself, the best
Conjurement of the rest:
O my Electra! be
In love with none but me.
2.8k
Batteries destroys the mind
You achieve next to nothing with your plug in baby muse
But here you lay, yet again, questing for a Stone Ring that gives a +1 to all of your skills as a sorceress
When somewhere else in the world a kid just made it to the next round of american idol
and who knows, maybe next year you'll be jamming to his hit track on your ipod
while your sitting in the library busting your *** to get the grades to become somebody you dont even know if you want to be
But I'm sure Einstein would agree with me that being something makes more sense than being nothing
Even though when your nothing your something, unless your a giant whole ******* me, Asia, and Justin Beiber into you to fill the void
But at the end of the day, when you really think about it, it's not even about whether or not you did your best, you just need to be able to sleep that night, and accept the day thats passed...not that you have a choice
Because the PVR doesn't work on the LIFE Network
You can't skip back to the beginning of the track, if you could, why not scratch the CD and listenin to a different remix every time
But Jacob knows it's never too late, there's always tomorrow.
So turn off the screen close your eyes and think for a bit, or at least until that late night ice cap wears off.
Are You going to find your call of duty? or spend another day wishing your brain had built-in bluetooth.
Feb 16, 2011
Feb 16, 2011 at 8:34 PM UTC
Take your seat
Your love gifted me thousand buckets of memories all are smeared with tears
Drink the caffeine-tears I shed for you
I want to know the feelings of lacerating me that you nourish in your heart,
I am trapped in your love
Like a fly trapped in a spider’s web
If you are not a picaroon, if you are not a sorceress,
If you are not a heart breaker, if you are not the heart snatcher
If you are not the birth giver of my poetry, if you are not my chimera
Reason of my all phantasm, if you are not an oath breaker
Then you are not my woman.
For you my poems are the best caffeine that you might ever have….
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 1:03 PM UTC
Seeing such said-to-be veracity
made spurious by truer voracity
left me in a downward maudlin spiral
caught in the gravity of pejorative thoughts.
(They were right about you)
Shown to be mendacious and meretricious
with such audacious and ignominious cupidity
that is, apparently, insatiable
by external stimulation.
These words are for thee.
(They were right about you)
A
Mistress of Verisimilitude
Sorceress of Perdition
Goddess of Rapacity
Nugatory Luddite
Fatuous Epigone
Specious and unctuous Girl
of gratuitous turpitude
These puerile and rather flavorful words
fueled by seemingly insuperable motifs
arranged in a terse, inimical verse
for a rather insipid person
who will likely never even know of them,
and yet;
such sweet felicity.
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 2:04 PM UTC
Morning drops like a parachute,
circumnavigating
the irrational things within her.
She drew the grim cartwheel
--crayoned images of kids in closets,
and blackens them into
illustrations of war.
She sleeps on bleak days
with young cameras,
Lucy under the tongue,
rosaries at the border
feel like pins and needles
to an adrenaline sorceress
in giallo approach,
her eye in a labyrinth,
the eye she lost in the Crusades,
filming streets below
the color of dark Roman wine.
It's a staring contest,
waiting on rooftops
in stages of collapse,
there she lives or dies
at the dividing line with the grave.
Jan 20, 2024
Jan 20, 2024 at 5:51 PM UTC
_Munching, crunching on a bone,
The trolls of Langwood growl and moan.
Through feral mutterings and drivel,
They gulp and choke down last night's grizzle.
In their cave on rocky mountains high,
Their scaly skin cracks from air so dry.
Once human men poisoned by greed,
Transformed into ogres for their misdeeds.
They prayed on people of modest means,
Until our good sorceress intervened.
She protects our land and keeps us safe,
From warlords and bankers filled with hate.
Condemned to live long foul lives,
The trolls of Langwood miss their wives.
For they now resemble their truer selves,
Forever denied the beauty of men and elves._
Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 2:09 PM UTC
She's got a face for radio,
She wears it best from head to toe.
She's a special kind of homely girl;
Her gift is being in a state of pity, so...
She is eager to shed her burdons,
But never tells the true
Meaning of actions
That always leave her due.
Love would never fix her woes,
She's a woman of motive
Crying on the shoulders of the higher-rated.
Tears are the flames of the voltive,
It's not mine to say.
It's mine to stay away.
She's not mine to slay.
But, I know her, anyway.
She's a vampire, the emotional kind,
One bite, then three times three is nine,
Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine,
And thrice again to make up nine,
Like a Harpee, she goes to them,
And drains from them vitality,
She's a shrewd one, and she's a shrew,
She doesn't even want to *****
She's a player, till the game is won,
And the sorceress says the charm is done.
No one can ever show her kindness
Without her expecting more.
If you have a dollar of quarters,
She'd not take less than four.
I have seen the hearts of hopeful
Shredded at her feet.
And then the ugliness that thrives her
Gathers the replete.
She's sated til her next desire.
She never rest for long.
There will always be some lonely sap,
That she Will sap upon.
It's not mine to say.
It's mine to stay away.
She's not mine to slay.
But, I know her way.
She's a vampire, the emotional kind,
One bite, then three times three is nine,
Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine,
And thrice again to make up nine,
Like a Harpee, she goes to them,
And drains from them vitality,
She's a shrewd one, and she's a shrew,
She doesn't even want to *****
She's a player, till the game is won,
And the sorceress says the charm is done.
The only thing she has is blame
To mead out to another sucker's name,
As soon as she has all she can get,
She leaves them, she leaves like all the rest,
Don't they think her heart is good!
They treat her like they think they should.
They don't know that to ease her pain
Is too surrender their gain, and go insane.
She never will come differently
Some things do not change.
Her talons grip them where they live,
Time and time, again.
It's not mine to say.
It's mine to stay away.
She's not mine to slay.
But, I know her way.
She's a vampire, the emotional kind,
One bite, then three times three is nine,
Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine,
And thrice again to make up nine,
Like a Harpee, she goes to them,
And drains from them vitality,
She's a shrewd one, and she's a shrew,
She doesn't even want to *****
She's a player, till the game is won,
And the sorceress says the charm is done.
She will make them steal
From the future of their children.
She is a guiltless wonder.
She really never lets them in.
All for nothing is the way she lives.
She is gone with the fairer treat.
Every lonely victom she leaves
The bitter without the sweet.
It's not mine to say.
It's mine to stay away.
She's not mine to slay.
But, I know her way.
She's a vampire, the emotional kind,
One bite, then three, times three is nine,
Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine,
And thrice again to make up nine,
Like a Harpee, she goes to them,
And drains from them vitality,
She's a shrewd one, and she's a shrew,
She doesn't even want to *****
She's a player, till the game is won,
And the sorceress says the charm is done.
Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 11:06 PM UTC
I tip my hat to the Poetess,
the Word Witch whose spin enthralls,
with language arranged in patterns,
and verse that often calls.
Her art is to conjure images,
the Sorceress whose quill entrances,
with phrase beautiful in texture,
and a word that often dances.
Her creations are her offspring,
the High Priestess whose rhymes capture,
with stanza's keen in construction,
and meanings that evoke pure rapture.
© Pagan Paul (24/07/16)
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 3:32 AM UTC
Sorceress of hello poetry
She posesses powers that pull me back
To a dark world of desires and fantasy
Late at night to her page I sneak
Seeking power and a lover's dreams
Her words my talisman of luck
With every line she drops
A spell veils my senses
Filling my mind with steamy clips
Of us in a world of two
Smoking my senses in her couldron of words
She got me believing those magic words
Giving in to her
She is a witch
She drafts her words skillfully
She conjures the sweetest feelings
And incarntations
That I chant and accept
And love and comment
Every day that I rise
On her illusionary wings
Feeding on her magic mushroom
Sorceress of Hello Poetry
With your stupefying allure
I lose the sense of time
And keep reading your rhyme
Till morning finds me wasted
And I am thrown back to reality
Against my wishes
Sorceress of Hello Poetry
Teach me to cast love spells
And I will guard you
When witch hunters come
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 10:11 AM UTC
Righteous Isis,
priceless queen, rife with green
vines winding between her lungs,
around her tongue, crowned with beams
of the ancient sun, power of Ra
beneath her thumb, life-giving wife,
wild child of reptiles, pride of the Nile--
righteous Isis,
she who gives birth to heaven and earth,
sovereign sorceress, steward of words,
my ancestress, blessed with flesh, this
bright protectress, next to death with
theft of her name, maimed by insane fanatics
grasping semi-automatics aimed at
righteous Isis,
spliced into terrorist crisis
situations, sacred name on a
radical federation, used for devastation,
appropriation of my divine mother,
brothers-in-arms killing the culture
of their own nations, of past generations, of
righteous Isis,
torn from her temple by
scorned fundamentalists,
prayers to her used to take
insurgent censuses
now when i bow to my goddess,
my empress, the powers suspect I'm a member of
rightist ISIS,
who crosses off competition
with crucifixion,
lays foundations for jurisdiction
with immolation, with detonation,
decapitation of journalists, their
murderous fists taking nations,
rightist ISIS,
whose power rests on the shoulders of dread,
men obsessed with erasing the names
of every goddess we hold close, of every man
who knows Mohammed did not preach death,
of every Buddhist, every Jew, every pagan, every Hindu,
choking the breath from those who don’t believe what they do--
rightist ISIS,
you think you own the sun but not this one,
not this pristine queen who tears the thunder from the skies,
and she will strike you down with pestilent blight
she'll smite you with a blistering light,
she'll drown you and ignite the tide,
and you will die with the second rise of
righteous Isis,
whose hand rocked the cradle of civilization,
whose shrines make the sacral heart of nations,
whose each breath gives divine illumination,
who shakes off the wasted shame
and patiently waits as we chant her names--
all ten thousand in glorification.
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 12:44 AM UTC
Raven haired woman—
Bathes in lake with sinking moon,
Black swan drowning light.
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 9:31 PM UTC
On the subway seat
feeding her needs
through long slender fingers
pop the rosary beads and
each bead a bullet
to load the gun.
What son of man decrees this?
She's twenty looks fifty and
has the eyes of a sorceress
which is probably so.
Every age throws up a sage
some sayer of truths.
Some say that it's her on
the seat,
she beats time to the beads
feeding her needs,
bullets for the gun
and one for
her son.
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 6:02 AM UTC
indigo dusk spreads across
inexhaustible country sky
torn wet clouds stretched blue at twilight
a big-chested wind comes howling off the lake
dissecting our immortal kiss
as the pink sun meets her planet-doom
leaking on my balcony like a falling curtain
blessed with an affinity for moonlight
lingering drinking pale wine
we took baths in lukewarm vanity
she is a long legged sorceress smoking a cigarette
half awake because i've got the covers again
goose bumps crowd onto her little bare *******
dewy legs sliding among mine
rousing my bones and heart alert
as the bright sun dances silent
like a new carnation dragged from bed
bringing a giant unscrambled sunrise
across my section of heaven's blue sea
but is mercifully eclipsed by the cream-skinned
breast of a purified failed angel
exploring the feather-soft mountain of my body
we drank cointreau in the early morning
against the collage of saxophones
expanding among criss-crossing body odors
and thin magic on my lipsticked neck
i'm gaining strength over my neuroses
all my fear and doubt disappears into joy
no longer huddled in paper misfortune
reintegrated with ecstasy
in the smoky labyrinth of her eyes
as her fingers light as dreams
draw complex patterns in the flesh
of my back and buttocks
like secrets written on wet paper
none of it was real before this moment
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 3:25 PM UTC
She was not like most people, she got caught somewhere in between reality while swallowing substances as a form of psychiatry.
She had found herself always stumbling accross her own art you see, even amongst her own world she was lost and misplaced her galaxy's key.
She was never exactly listening while breathing in your level of dimension you see, her thoughts wandered much too far off the edge of her galaxy's sea.
This place she ended up was consumed by madness, darkness, and imagination. She was always shaking on the floor fighting the feelings of prostration.
This woman lived inside of her head you know, all these things she could not explain somehow made her grow.
She fought against her own world, how was she supposed to stay sane when the reality around her was swirled?
She tried her best by hiding behind the moon and sprinkling her world with fairy dust, still she found herself screaming at the stars to please shake off the feeling of lust.
She was cursed with a heart that never ceased to love, voices whispered in the skies of her own galaxy and laughed at her from above.
She refused to waste her time believing in actuality, for she was too busy seducing starlight with her sensual sexuality.
Her unpredictable personality was either devilish or angelic, she was lost while chasing dragons in this world of hers oh so psychedelic.
You would never dare to walk deeper into her thoughts of fantasy and lucid dreaming, your naive infinity could have never established any meaning.
You were unimpressed by her actions and resented her always reckless, around the witch's neck laid her luck inside a necklace.
She remained in her own nonsense believing mysteries indeed mystical, in the end these mysteries meaning nothing less than egotistical.
You never saw beyond the facts of your own perspective, little did you know
from her's she was fighting villians just to keep her nature protected.
May 15, 2019
May 15, 2019 at 8:26 PM UTC
The graceful improvisation
Moves through your body
As your feet rhythmically glide
My eyes stuck fixation
Embody emotion inside
Artistic beauty
With effortless elegance
Reveals truly
This sorceress's extravagance
Illuminating passion
With every twist in time
Balanced fashion
Which resists the paradigm
Expressive energy
Fluidly maintained in the trance
Creating synergy
Entrained into your dance
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 4:10 AM UTC
The Sorceress, Jacob's Most Beloved
she had eyes for me
I knew it
she knew it
man among boys
stare beguiling no accident
entrancement, entrapment,
of course, her eyes hid,
but knew it anyway, for
her warmth dripped into my body,
resting happily within my centre.
why not?
her sorcery, profound,
when she cast the words,
she cast them instantly
without human fore thought,
thus pleasing and being pleasing,
when her branded magi magic
home in other people's minds
did come to rest.
the spells cast
in and on me
own me as much
as I now am possessed,
and in possession of them,
though which is more powerful
is indeterminate,
for I am stained
either way.
in a quiet hamlet,
in an ancient thorp,
the lambs, white and happy
prance on the commons,
the El god's angel disguised,
fresh and unbroken,
I observe the only one,
spotted, stained, like me,
open hid on this earth.
bleating,
I am my beloved's,
and my beloved is mine,
mine very own sorceress.
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 4:39 AM UTC