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Poems About Witches by Sky Taylor
The Northdown Witch
Legend has it that trouble was doubled by the Northdown Witch;
To find her, travel thru the wooded vale, hemmed by a ditch
But be prepared, for as one clawed hand stirs the black caldron;
The other hovers over a book of spells, not penned by the sun
For it contains pages of darkness, secret incantations of evil;
Men to toads, children to mice, mankind ripped of human will
Harnessed by a rolled curse from sacrilegious lips, a wicked tongue;
So tread carefully as you near the lair of the evil, wicked one
Enter quietly thru the back, along a winding mossy trail;
Gripping a leather-covered hand tightly to the rusty rail
Where it ends, you'll find the secret passageway;
Tucked into a hill, to block the light of day
Stealthily move forward, past the glowing eyes of owl;
On past the transparent herb-filled jars, musty and foul
Till finally you reach the heart of the heartless one;
Who stands brewing a curse over the black caldron
Do not hesitate, do not fumble, do not pause, do not wait;
Lest your head becomes a knob on the witch's garden gate.
The Halloween Witch, a poem by Sky Taylor
Pointy nails clamped tight 'round a caldron spoon, Broomstick longs for a ride against the Harvest moon.
The late October air is cool, night sky pitch black, Costumed children skirmishing below, hands on sack.
'Trick or Treat' rings through the Halls of the Night, For Halloween means thrills, delight and frivolous fright.
Witch pauses her broomstick and slows her ride, A slow, sly smile stitching across her wrinkled hide.
The children gaze up as the wicked laugh escapes, Rooted to the spot, with little mouths agape.
Watching in wonder, witch jets from the scene, Creating an unforgettable, magical Halloween.
So if you're about on October thirty-first, Keep eyes peeled for a sudden burst,
For the witch she flies against the Harvest moon.