Cauldron's boiling Fire's burning Smoke is slowly twisting,turning
A pinch of this, a dash of that Upon my head, a withces hat I close
my eyes as magick flows Around me quick the darkness grows Ancient words
escape my lips The power of my soul it grips Shallow breaths escape me
now Beads of sweat upon my brow I cast a spell into the night A
burning power I can not fight Up from the ground dark shadows rise A
hint of mischief in their eyes Moaning, groaning they take flight Into
the darkest, moonless night.
Love it!! Living in Mass, here, I grew up around the horrors of Salem and also around the coolest people ever that are in covens. I've written a few witch poems, myself, but I really love reading this one..... imagining this sort of beat progressing, and building, as... it reminds me of that building anticipation Willy Wonka let us experience going through that tunnel on his boat!! In your poem, I could hear the leaves crunching, grunts and whistles chiming, and voices coming in and going out. I've been there for some of it. Great poem!! xoxo -Mark
Posted 12 Years Ago
12 Years Ago
Wow, thanks so much for this awesome review. Im soo glad you enjoyed the poem!
Classic, contemporary imagery. It's bounces along quite nicely with only one little typo (withces hat --> witches hat); discounting the various spellings of magic~magick~majyk, etc.. The rhythm reminds me of the Oath of the Green Lanterns. All in all, a nice little poem! :o)