Paula Glynn


Wicked Witch - Poem by Paula Glynn

See the wicked witch ride her broomstick,
As she rides with the moon,
Her pointy hat her distinguished feature,
For it is a full moon tonight,
For magic will reign until the morning light,
For many spells are being cast,
And who will win the magic stakes,
No one knows,
For many a cauldron is being stirred,
The supernatural in nature being brought alive,
And love spells bring love into the wide open,
And treasure good fortune and luck,
For there are many facets in nature,
And spells can be cast, so you'll never be stuck,
Many good luck charms and wishing dust reawaken the spirit,
And throwing salt over your shoulder,
Not walking under ladders,
Knocking on wood,
And keeping a black cat for good luck,
Will keep things swinging your way,
And the phases of the moon will keep the spirits at rest,
At least until the break of day,
For traditions say witches practice their craft through black magic,
But this is not true,
For the way of the witches will never be tragic,
For love spells are also their forte,
And a beautiful prince or princess will greet you,
For you are magic itself,
You have those magical eyes,
That will reveal a pleasant surprise,
The night opening up your unbelieving eyes,
To all of nature and its magic powers,
That keep balance and proprtion in all things,
And give life to those beautiful and colourful spring flowers,
That only heaven itself, with all its magic,
Could create and nurture with the changing seasons.


Comments about Wicked Witch by Paula Glynn

  • (12/5/2010 6:21:00 PM)


    Which Witch?
    Is the one that looks over your shoulder
    And gives your back an itch
    Before growing bolder.

    Then the light dims
    And the sound of music
    Summons her (or him)
    To provide a bit of magic.

    And you try to scratch the itch
    But it's just out of reach
    And so you do the next best thing
    You ask the witch for helping.

    As if by magic the itch goes away
    Now which Witch was it that refused to play?
    But instead has moved the tingle to your nose
    And makes you sneeze, God Bless You, I suppose.

    Can't you feel the fingers moving up and down your spine
    Ice cold and not at all sublime
    As you pull the covers over your head
    Knowing full well that the Witch is now in your bed.

    So you make the best of the occasion
    And put your ice cold feet up against the back of your companion.
    Then when asked, What the hell!
    Just say the Witch made me do it. Well?

    s
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Poem Submitted: Sunday, December 5, 2010



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