"tredded" poems
She was an eccentric one, living a life of solitude in the depths of the woods. People believed her to be a witch, having seen her using cauldrons supposedly conjuring magic potions for sinister spells. Her only friend, a black crow that perched on her shoulder as she tredded the woods gathering goods. The children often hid behinds tree's and bushes peeking at her in fear that she would catch them spying and turn them into frogs or something worse. The supposed witch went on about her business preparing for winter months ahead. She dressed quite odd in times where women only worse dresses, she wore trousers. Thick, hand sewn deep brown trousers that she explained kept her warm in winters harsh storms. She seemed to have a remedy for just about everything, encouraging everyone's theory that she really is a witch. She used her cauldron to make herbal tea's and maple syrup to earn a living. She had unusual methods used in much earlier times to see if the maple tree's were ready to be drained of their syrup. The children had seen her thumping a stick against the tree's not knowing that she was listening to the sound it made which told her if they were ready or not. Her methods, although unsual to current times were nothing of a witch. One fridged winter day a little girl found herself caught in a merciless snow storm. The wind howling fiercely, she was going in circles and indefinitely lost. There she lay face down in the snow passed out from freezing temperatures and pure exhaustion. Out of nowhere the supposed witch came across her lying in the snow. The little girl came to only to be face to face with the witch and was terrified. The witch pegina put her onto a sled and pulled her deep into the woods back to her shack. She poured her a hot cop of tea. The little girl was reluctant to drink it because she thought it was a magic potion. Pegina said, it's only tea child. The little girl smelled it and replied, it does smell like tea. She began sipping it and found it was most delightful. Her clothes were soaked so pegina had an idea. She offered the little girl a pair of deep brown trousers just like hers. The little girl laughed, she said, I'll look silly. They were dry nevertheless, so she put them on and to her surprise were quite warm and cozy. About then, the storm was letting up and it was time to get the girl home. They made the journey back to her house, before departing the little girl asked her a question. She asked, do you think I'll turn out like you? Pegina said, only if your lucky.
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 3:31 PM UTC
Built by handcrafted hollowing of hope
internally furnished by memento collecting
fueled by a flickering fluctuation
on the road between hope & damnation
Drive!, it is an inescapable thrill
this road is a hard swallowed pill
only kept in-check by ones waning will
Fast enough now to force through the veneer
it might seem that everything is made clear
even faster now, taken over by & driven by fear
far off one sees the ****** horizon
beyond this lies all those who were unwise in
their choice to drive into dusk
the heaping of the hopeless hollowed-out husk
Drive!, it is an inescapable thrill
this road is a hard swallowed pill
only kept in-check by ones waning will
The fastest one can go, past these shallow souls
on the road that tredded through its own soles.
at last one reaches the abyssal plain
it is here where one truly loses vain
that hopelessness caused helps ones dream come to life
the vanguard come only forged from the urge to survive
Drive!, it is an inescapable thrill
this road is a hard swallowed pill
only kept in-check by ones waning will
Speed is suppressed by the sense of ones survival
call it collateral for the creative revival.
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 1:35 AM UTC