Featured Posts

WELCOME

Image
Hi friends, Thanks for visiting my poetry page, you are more than welcome. I love writing, it is a form of escape, it can take you anywhere you want to go, it is your own imagination running wild, I write poems daily, they may not be always deep, some may be too deep, but its the way I feel at the time. Please come back from time to time and read some more. I also have a public poetry blog, were you are more than welcome to submit a poem of your own, for the World to read. Have a nice day. William Sinclair Manson. MY INTERVIEW WITH ROBERT HEWITT Please checkout MY PUBLISHED BOOKS Please checkout BLOG PROMOTIONS Please checkout SHORT STORIES Please checkout PUBLIC POEMS Please checkout BILLY'S RANTS   THANKS OR VISITING.

THE WAY OF THE WITCH.













Darkness falls upon the village
were birds don't sing anymore
except the odd owl hooting 
and the shriek of the rampant wild boar.
The last person lived till ninety four
the rest died before they were twenty
caused by a witch burned to the stake
in revenge she killed a plenty.
Who was this woman? why was she killed?
only a few had knew
they say she practised witchcraft by night
from her cottage kneeling down at a pew.
She lived alone with her cat
he was as black as night itself
into the dark witching hours
you could hear the devil himself.
Smoke burns from the chimney stack
beautiful, colorful lights
to the naked eye one could see
figures floating most nights.
Tall figures, short figures animal like
were born from the color of gold
hardly a soul lived to tell
how the story itself would unfold.
What were those figures why were they here?
only the witch was carefully informed
all that was known that each new night
figures were broke and malformed.
Disappearing speedily into the night
no one knew were they would go
or the purpose of their timely birth
no light could anyone throw.
All of a sudden an angry crowd gathered
to catch the witch in the act
wilfully accused of black magic they say
it was a matter of fact.
At 10.35 on a chilly day
the witch paid the price with her life
the black cat let out an eerie squeak
the atmosphere could be cut with a knife.
To this day the smoke appears
even though the house is decayed
if you look very closely into the smoke
the figures still appear BE AFRAID!


Fictional witchcraft


Please checkout MY PUBLISHED BOOKS
Please checkout BLOG PROMOTIONS
Please checkout SHORT STORIES
Please checkout PUBLIC POEMS
Please checkout BILLY'S RANTS 

THANKS OR VISITING.
JavaScript Free Code

Popular posts from this blog

WELCOME

THE ONLY WAY THEY KNOW.

CHILDREN OF WAR.

Flag Counter