These poems were written on October 20, 2007, on the topic of "Season of the Witch." They are now offered for your Halloween pleasure.
The Season of the Witch,
The retribution of history, isn't it a bitch?
That the persecuted are celebrated, the persecutors in hell,
For their having drowned innocent girls,
In things like a well.
Cambraic shirts, and Harvest moons.
Acorns,Pine cones,and Celtic Runes.
Pagan days filled with desire.
Earth and air,..comes wind and fire.
Hooded Druids gather then.
Oil lamps,in wooded Glen.
To gaze upon the Southern skye.
To eat and breathe, and live,and die...
I have no hitch
To be a witch.
To be the clergy
Will give me allergy.
And I do not like Itch.
O the Life of a witch,
To go flying over any ditch,
Riding on a broom,
Vroom Vroom Vroom
I'd love to watch her as I eat my sandwich.
A witch next door is such a trouble, dear;
Her friends in pointy hats wand'ring round here
On Halloween are such a raunchy group--
Last year they put my kitty in their soup!
I worry 'bout what they will do this year.
The moon is much too round, the sky too clear;
'Tis fear that makes me tremble 'neath this bed!
See the flick'ring shadows overhead?
That's their creepy sacrificial blaze.
One year, I woke up, mind in such a daze--
Where had I been? My memory was poor.
I don't remember seeing by my door
That bloody mess: the knife, the cloth, the hair.
No, I don't like this living by her lair.