Witches KitchenA Poem by Sean EddingfieldFairy tale with a twist...I wander down the unseen path that I know and she knows... The wind seems angry today, black sky, towering clouds lightning dares to blink and wink and the thunder chases it away. But no rain falls. Leaves fly past my face whispering in my ear "Don't go that way... not that way... for some do not return. Suddenly, black wolf in my path snarling growling... is all at once distracted by a whistle from not far away. He bolts away up and over the next hill... but not without first giving me the warmest of smiles. I continue in his direction upon the crest of the hill I spy the house watching me like a thing alive... It's soul burning as a candle in the window. Upon the walls vines grow thick and like veins from an unseen heart seem to pump a dark magic into this place children should not go. Upon the porch a strange bird in a guilded cage laughs at the sight of me. Not a feather he has left but leathery skin and what is this? He could be free, for the key to the cage is 'round his neck. A creaking door invites me in or perhaps just the wind... I step into the witches kitchen so many things to see... Black cat curled near the hearth blazing fire bubbling caludron with smells of garlic and spoiled meat somehow inviting. Upon the mantlepeice a sealed jar contains a spiteful creature... tiny and naked with gossamer wings that hardly fit inside the glass prison. Maddened she spits something like a web forgetting her confinement she is caught within it. Here, vials hang on ropes or strands of hair. On this side are gourds hollow where spiders live... on that side there are flowers dried and cracked like dead mens bones. Orbs, herbs, blackend dust, green fluid, eyes and ears of creatures not quite human... Bottles full of fear and lust and hate and greed and love. And a poor man's head with no skin upon it with empty sockets and hollowed top to catch the water dripping slowly. And now the sound of shuffling feet... I hide. From this view, I see the back door swing wide, a long black dress nearly blocks my view of an enormous patch of pumpkins that seem to go on and on and on. Door bangs shut... I see her shoes from here on the floor under the table... silver buckle and pointy toes. Will she hear? Will she see? She seems to pause... taking in long breaths She knows that I am here She can smell me. I burst from my hiding place! Shreiking! Flailing my arms! The knife in her hand glints of shiny steel stained with blood. Her long black hair is tied with a bow made from the innards of the rabbit neck broken and butchered. She is beautiful and pale and seems happy to see me. Laughing I ask... "Did I scare you Mother?" The black wolf at my side nuzzles my hand... we all laugh together.
© 2009 Sean EddingfieldAuthor's Note
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Added on April 10, 2009AuthorSean EddingfieldOKAboutTowering heights and abysmal depths and a litte of the life in between... but mostly... mosty... of what I speak is of those who are unseen... But save some fear to hold onto... you can't see them, b.. more..Writing
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