Burn witch burn

And the witch burnt, flames crackling in delight

As her ghastly cackles rang wildly through the night

September 17 and October 10, 2010


Stacking, packing, they crowed so, cheered on

Soon this dark Witch would be burnt, be gone

The trial you ask? Village fool a cloak did don

In the land of why not and a time once upon


The men lined up jeering were hardly forlorn

One whistled soft sneers, another blew a horn

The women between two minds seemed torn

A woman gazed intently, nursing a new-born


The wood was there now, it seemed enough

This burning, a chore, would not be so tough

They piled hearth, the smooth and the rough

A fledgling cried silenced by his mother’s cuff


Yet the waif looked on at that tasteless sight

He seemed to find that in her dark was light

Prying open the maternal clutch ever so tight

He approached the pyre so observe he might


Bushes thorny white into her hair had grown

To hold back her arms that eerie glow shone

And while there she stood on the altar alone

The moonlight sparkled on her face of stone


With haggard glazed eyes she gazed around

Hands, helpless, behind her, she was bound

Eyes resting on that cherub’s face so round

She felt less the gnawing of the ruddy hound


And as the fire soared higher, much higher

Lighting up her dark’s doom to their desire

Of the flame she felt not much the bite dire

Her eyes locked on to the eyes that inspire


And so burnt the witch on a day of plenty

An age she counted two twenty and twenty

After she burnt, in the square again empty

The waif looked within where she lay gently


Skipping away, as the sky had turned black

The waif ran home never even looking back

For he held now close tight in his heart rack

A shadow of her vengeance he would stack


Reading of my poem on youtube



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