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Posts tagged ‘Halloween witches’

The Witch is Transformed

Written by Ann LeFlore: for TheGooseberry Garden Poetry Slam Week 11 Halloween Special. This is the last day before the frightful night so be prepared what you will see on Halloween night. You still have a chance to run and hide to protect yourself from the creatures that come out tomorrow night. Happy Halloween everyone and hope that you have a wonderful Halloween and see you back next year with some more wonderful poem for this time of year.

The Witch is Transformed

 

On Halloween night you start to change
Your body begins to transform and rearrange
When the sun goes down and the full moon glows
Your life is not the same and starts to transpose

Your hair turns grey and starts to grow
Your breath reeks like stale tobacco
Your nails harden like the claws of a bear
Your eyes are sunken with a darkened glare

Your dress turns to rags and starts to tear
Your nose is large and pointy like the Delaware
Your fingers are long and start to crack
Your back starts to change and becomes hunchback

Your lips become cracked and turn to an ashen grey
Your voice escapes through your blocked airway
Your toes begin to curl and turn
Your ears grow frail and start to burn

Your teeth turn black and start to rot out
Your veins start to protrude and fill with gout
Your heart starts to shrink and turn black
Your voice is raspy and starts to crack

Next thing you know you start to chant
You go so mad you rave and rant
You look for your largest kettle
Big and round and black as metal

The fire starts to crackle and burn
As the spells inside your head start to turn
The children start to come to your gate
Candies and goodies are used for bait

The caldron begins to bubble and hiss
The black cat stands by your feet and assists
For in your glance there is a snare
And in your smile there is a scare

The children are summands one by one
There is no place to hide no place to run
The caldron is ready for your stew
The children are added with the last cockatoo

For tonight is the night for the witches feast
No one is safe on this night not man or beast
Just one day of the year the witches run wild
Run and hide and save your grandchild

Category:

Poetry

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Taken From Me On Halloween Night

Written by Ann LeFlore; for The Poetry Palace. Week 54 poets rally; submit a free verse or poem of your choice. Halloween is drawing closer each day and to get into the mood of the season I wrote another Halloween Poem. I love Halloween and the poems are endless and the images are so fun to create poetry for such a wonderful scary night. Not long now before the witches come out to make their brew, black cats scream at the moon, and vampires are there to drink from your veins. Enjoy this season and Happy Halloween to everyone

Taken From Me On Halloween Night

Seven hundred years have passed
I finally found you at last
They burned you on the stake
Just because of your name sake

That day the fire burned cyclamen and rose
I watched the flames burning from your nose
Your eyelids flamed a purple glow
I held your hand and tried to blow

Left alone in this dog eyed place
Your ashes rose into empty space
Each year on this date
I come here to wait

Tonight at half past eight
I will be there at your gate
To light the fire a chrisom rose
Oh darling how my desire grows

In the flames I will throw
The bloody red eyes of a dead crow
The wing of two hundred bats
One very dead fat black cat

Fire and water, earth and sky
Dead eyes light the night
Black and oily dark as night
Vision of you cloud my sight

Just one chance to get this right
Before the devils takes flight
Only on this day this night
Under the full moon light

They took you from this land
Now I come back to claim your hand
You will be my bride tonight
Laughing at this the fire burns bright

Each year on this date
There is only one fate
To come back to this place
To start a new race

Our children wait your return
To teach them what they should learn
Mortal men are so vain
When we suck the blood from their veins

Tonight we take flight
In the full moon light
The werewolves howl at such a sight
Only tonight we’ll make it right
My revenge begins on Halloween night

 

 

 

Category:

Poetry

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The Day of the Dead

Written by Ann LeFlore; for Open Link Night Week 13: at dVerse. Halloween is just around the corner and it is time to get into the mood. The day of the dead is celebrated in Mexico and on the 1st of November we remember the ones that passed on before us.

The Day of the Dead

Up from the grave stones they arose
The black figures of the bloody crows
Ancient shapes taking flight
Were mesmerized by the night

Watching the dead arise from their graves
The monsters came to collect their slaves
Fog seeps through this darkened place
The dead are here as the master race

The chilled winds mark this fearsome flight
Autumn branches break and crack with fright
The landscape turns to ashen crumbs
The dead and  wicked this way comes 

The night air turns dark with musk
Our nostrils are filled with dust
The phantom hand floats through the air
Reaching out with no despair

Grabbing you in its claw shaped hands
Dragging you across the lands
The moon fills the night with a silvery light
The church bells toll and seem to glow

Hypnotized by the suffer air
The dead move on without a care
Dragging you across this place
Floating free lost in space

The dark lord sits upon his thorn
We are dropped for him to adorn
The night belongs to the blacked souls
Paralyzed by their deadly controls

Up arose the dead from their beds
To a dance that they fearfully lead
At last our doom is decreed
Like as long legged spider with near changing speed

The thirty first of October in eighteen eight five
Not a man was left alive
Each year on this day
The dead arrive to claim their pray

Category:

Poetry

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Bubbling Potion of Love

Written by Ann LeFlore for Bluebell Books Short Story Slam Week 11.  Write a poem, a prose, or a short story inspired by the image provided.

Bubbling Potion of Love

Handfuls of dead dried leaves
Slim from the bottom of the sea
Rotten eggs from the duck tales grave
Spider webs from the widows trap

Add some moldy bread from the dead mans hand
Mucky mud from the swamp monsters land
Stand back and drop them in
The pot begins to bubble with trouble

Watching the pot boil and bubble
Knowing that inside is the blood of trouble
Rising the dead from the graves
Turning the monsters into slaves

Round about the cauldron she turns
Stirring in the poisoned skin of toad
Drops the spike of a bone
Sharpened on an eagles throne

Crack the serpent’s eggs at last
The dancing dead wake from the past
Brings with them the tongue of dog
Lizard legs and fairy wing

 She finds in her jar the eye of newt
The wings of bat mix with hemlock root
Drops in a long black whisker
From the wolf hound fur

 She holds the wake of life in her spell
All she needs is the man in vain
Filled with desire and lust
Bring him here to me this night

Awaken from a dreamless sleep
Over top the darkness looms
Under the cloak of black
The face made chills run down my back

Standing over the top of me
She looked deep into my eye
The whites of the sockets is all I could see
As she hypnotized me

The next thing I remember I was there
Standing before her bubbling cauldron
Asking her why she brought me here
Knowing that I love some one so dear

She promised me a sure fire cure
With her potion she hands to me
One drop is all it takes
Guaranteed to make her love me

I run to meet her in the park
The night dusk has turned dark
She stands before my eyes
The potion starts to rise

Her eyes fill with lust for me
My hearts pounds with love and thrust
We embrace the long loving kiss
The bubble encases us within

I open my eyes to see
The horror that is before me
I look into her face and what did I see
The witch’s face looking back at me

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Poetry

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The Crimson Witch

 Written by Ann LeFlore a witches tale into the dark and mysterious side of Halloween. The spirit of the season is drawing upon us and the time is near for the witches and warlocks to start to cast their spells upon the lands.

The Crimson Witch

 

She creeps in the middle of the night
Slowly wandering beside the leafy stream
Held in her nut-brown hands one crystal ball set a glow
Telling stories of how the world should be

 The luring of her cryptic song wakes the village below
Piercing through the night calling for all to come
The intoxicating rhythm rings through the air
Drawing the unsuspected nearer to her dark and dirty spell

The village people float through the air
Lifting up and flying on the song birds tail
Like the pied piper calling his sheep
She brings them there for her to keep

 Held in her crimson creepy grace
The spill is binding no one shall escape
The words are addicting floating together as one
Gathering together her goose
To pluck their feature one by one

 The people fall beneath her cherry stained feet
Her out stretched decaying arms
Brings them in closer looking beneath her charm
Sinking under her sidereal stained dark eyes

 Gaze into my crystal ball set upon a fearsome glow
The magic held within my hands
Will give you life beyond these lands
Upon the orchard’s tangled path
The golden-red has turned to brown

 One by one they start to near entangled in her grace
One swipe of her nail across their face
The translucent blood starts to flow
Drinking in her grace one touch and she will know

 She tastes the salty tear stained bloody cheeks
One by one she sees into their soul
Gazing into her crystal ball the story has been told
Each person is drawn beneath her spill

 One by one they can’t escape
Transforming into a liquid lave
Dripping between her fingers sitting in her hands
Sucking out the juices that spill upon the lands

 One by one she plucked their life
Held it in her hands
Gathered up her magic ball
To float high upon the lands

 She is not made of human form
Her life is yet to be know
What untold secrets rest between
Her dark and deadly hold

 She floats high above the lands
Blowing flames of cyclamen and rose
She sucks the flames from their eyes
To touch their perfect nostrils
And they too flame gently like a pale rose

 Next time you shall see her
Drowned between the lands
For I have meet her drinking from the sands
Standing in her gypsy gown crystal ball in hand
Begging all to see the riches of her lands

Category:

Poetry

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