Poetry I

Hecate’s Offering:

At the Crossroads,

Don’t look back.

Leave some honey,

And some sprat.

 

Spirit’s gather,

Midnight spell,

Magic Goddess,

Go to Hell.

 

Cursed Entity,

Powers known.

Necromancy,

Faith condoned.

 

Midnight Wander,

Go back home.

West of Athens,

Do not Roam.

 

Hear a noise,

I’m  now scared.

I look back,

My eye’s Impaired.

 

Brigid’s Day:

Jump!

Jump!

Jump! The Flame!

Bless us Brigid with wealth and fame!

 

Heal!

Heal!

Hail! The games!

Feed the poor, and heal the Lame

 

Sing!

Sing!

Sing! The song!

Bless the right, condemn the wrong!

 

Imbolc!

Imbolc! Holy flame!

Brigid’s favorite sacred day!

 

The Light and the Thorn:

A light has shone,

Inside those halls.

A light of beauty,

A light of Interest.

Yield the beauty of that light,

 

Basic,

Simple,

Plain.

 

The light is accompanied by,

A Fife,

A rose,

A Goblet,

A thorn.

 

The Fife plains a tranquil tune,

Quiet,

High,

Beautiful.

 

The rose emits a tasty fume,

Sweet,

Soft,

Gentle.

 

The Goblet holds a bitter wine,

Elegant,

Grapy,

Acidic.

 

The thorn pricks a heedless thumb,

Red,

Sore,

Not so fun.

 

Gargoyle’s Cry:

In the town of Notre Dame,

Hid a troubled Gargoyle.

He cried all night,

He cried the rain.

He brought on us his Demon pain.

 

Fire,

Hunger,

Slain.

 

He tortured the Lost,

And killed the Vain.

And The wealthy he did maim.

And came a day,

When he was tamed.

 

And felt the guilt of a thousand rains,

And worked the hours of a thousand slaves.

For just one chance to repay.

All those lives he did take.

And his allegiance to the Snake,

 

And when the pain had got to great,

He felt an intense self-hate.

He knew he had to seal his fate.

But as he died his guilt did abate,

He wanted to live,

But it was too late.

He knew it was too late.

One More:

Sugar’s poison,

One more Bottle.

 

Sweetest liquid,

Like the flavor.

 

My sides hurt,

Don’t need my liver.

 

It doesn’t matter,

Just pull the trigger.

 

I will live cause,

I am different.

I am invincible,

Fifty years.

 

Half that much,

With many tears.

 

And abandon,

Blame my problems.

 

Another bottle,

No more emotions.

 

Kill the others,

Take my life.

 

One more bottle,

No more problems.

 

They don’t care,

Another paycheck.

 

Take their cash,

Buy more bottles.

 

I am numb,

What’s the point.

 

Evil demons,

In my head.

 

One more bottle,

I am dead.

Author's Note

How is my Rhyming? Does it sound forced, weak, ETC.?