Personal Poetry Challenge Day Sixty-Four

The following poem is for entertainment only and does not reflect my personal views on wiccans, pagans etc.

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Beware Her Wrath

With pointy hat and pointy nose,
A pointy chin as well,
In league with forces of the dark,
To make of earth a hell.

A cauldron bubbles on a hearth,
Don’t dare to peek within.
For eyes will water stomach turn,
And your head will spin.

That broomstick in her hand my friend,
You think is just for show.
Can truly fly and carries her,
Her evil deeds to sow.

If you should be out in the woods
And crumbling cottage see.
Don’t play at brave and “check it out”,
Just turn around and flee.

This witch has lived three hundred years,
May live three hundred more.
If you would live another day,
Don’t knock upon her door.

Cheers, Winston

Personal Poetry Challenge Day Fifty-Seven

So another ghost poem tonight.  I’ve got a serious weakness for gothic and macabre stories.  That’s why I periodically come back to this theme. 

Whatever the case, Enjoy!

The Hanging Tree

A tree stands near a crossroads where,
No hymn was ever sung.
And from it’s branches criminals,
Of long ago were hung.

Their bodies lie in hasty graves,
In this unhallowed ground,
Their spirits cursed to wander here,
Through centuries unbound.

Don’t pass this way on moonless night,
When dark is darker still.
For vengeful wraiths like mist anise,
To work their wicked will.

They’ll lead you on to meet your doom,
Promise your darkest dream.
You’ll think you have it in your grasp,
And then you start to scream.

Most were not evil when they died,
But trapped too long they changed.
Deprived of hope so very long,
Souls warped and minds deranged.

So if you see an ancient tree,
Near crossroads in the night,
I’d not go there choose other roads,
From darkness to the light.

Cheers, Winston

Personal Poetry Challenge Day Fifty-One

I haven’t done a vampire tale yet this year so it seemed like time.  I try not to get too stereotyped.  I also try not to take the same tone.  I try to treat my vampires like anyone else…. they are individuals.  Meet the latest one.

My Curse, Your Doom

I’ve walked this world five hundred years,
No one to call my own.
It changes you to live so long,
To live so long alone.

I’ve killed to feed, so many lives,
They died so I might roam.
And roam I must for I am cursed,
To know no earthly home.

Though I am dead I cannot rest,
Until I find “the one”.
And though I’ve tried, and tried again,
Of love I have found none.

But still I try as try I must,
If I would ever sleep.
And know the rest of those I’ve killed,
On who’s corpses I weep.

Although I’m cursed a thing unclean,
The truth is I still pray.
If God there is then I may hope,
To die in truth one day.

But until then my search goes on,
My hunger knows no end.
Perhaps I’ll wander where you are,
Goodnight, sleep well my friend.

Cheers, Winston