En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Cauldron

Beneath the cauldron, the fire crackles
while above it and old witch cackles
as she stirs her brew and popping in ingredients.
Web of spider, eyelash of newt,
wart of toad and little boy blue’s flute.
She looked around and cackled some more
as the bubbles in the cauldron multiplied more.
She added even more ingredients;
toenail of bat, stinger of bee,
skin of snake and droppings of mole.
The old witch continued to stir her stew,
as it must be served piping hot.
She then mumbled incantations over the bubbling brew.
The problem was who would eat it.
She turns and looks my way with a big bow in hand.
Shaking my head, no thank you,
get some other mug to have your stew.

27 January 2011

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Strange Brew

By eric clapton, gail collins and felix pappalardi
Strange brew -- kill whats inside of you.
Shes a witch of trouble in electric blue,
In her own mad mind shes in love with you.
With you.
Now what you gonna do?
Strange brew -- kill whats inside of you.
Shes some kind of demon messing in the glue.
If you dont watch out itll stick to you.
To you.
What kind of fool are you?
Strange brew -- kill whats inside of you.
On a boat in the middle of a raging sea,
She would make a scene for it all to be
Ignored.
And wouldnt you be bored?
Strange brew -- kill whats inside of you.
Strange brew, strange brew, strange brew, strange brew.
Strange brew -- kill whats inside of you.

song performed by by Cream
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Strange Brew

By eric clapton, gail collins and felix pappalardi
Strange brew -- kill whats inside of you.
Shes a witch of trouble in electric blue,
In her own mad mind shes in love with you.
With you.
Now what you gonna do?
Strange brew -- kill whats inside of you.
Shes some kind of demon messing in the glue.
If you dont watch out itll stick to you.
To you.
What kind of fool are you?
Strange brew -- kill whats inside of you.
On a boat in the middle of a raging sea,
She would make a scene for it all to be
Ignored.
And wouldnt you be bored?
Strange brew -- kill whats inside of you.
Strange brew, strange brew, strange brew, strange brew.
Strange brew -- kill whats inside of you.

song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Incantation

Scene: Federal Political Arena
A darkened cave. In the middle, a cauldron, boiling.
Enter the three witches.
1ST WITCH: Thrice hath the Federal Jackass brayed.

2ND WITCH: Once the Bruce-Smith War-horse neighed.

3RD WITCH: So Georgie comes, 'tis time, 'tis time,
Around the cauldron to chant our rhyme.

1ST WITCH: In the cauldron boil and bake
Fillet of a tariff snake,
Home-made flannels -- mostly cotton,
Apples full of moths, and rotten,
Lamb that perished in the drought,
Starving stock from "furthest out",
Drops of sweat from cultivators,
Sweating to feed legislators.
Grime from a white stoker's nob,
Toiling at a nigger's job.
Thus the great Australian Nation,
Seeks political salvation.

ALL: Double, double, toil and trouble,
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.

2ND WITCH: Heel-taps from the threepenny bars,
Ash from Socialist cigars.
Leathern tongue of boozer curst
With the great Australian thirst,
Two-up gambler keeping dark,
Loafer sleeping in the park --
Drop them in to prove the sequel,
All men are born free and equal.

ALL: Double, double, toil and trouble,
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.

3RD WITCH:Lung of Labour agitator,
Gall of Isaacs turning traitor;
Spleen that Kingston has revealed,
Sawdust stuffing out of Neild;
Mix them up, and then combine
With duplicity of Lyne,
Alfred Deakin's gift of gab,
Mix the gruel thick and slab.

ALL: Double, double, toil and trouble,
Heav'n help Australia in her trouble.

HECATE: Oh, well done, I commend your pains,
And everyone shall share i' the gains,
And now about the cauldron sing,
Enchanting all that you put in.
Round about the cauldron go,
In the People's rights we'll throw,
Cool it with an Employer's blood,
Then the charm stands firm and good,
And thus with chaos in possession,
Ring in the coming Fed'ral Session.

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Wicked Witch (Fun Poem 110)

The wicked witch waved her wand
to turn the princess into a frog.
However, the magic spell she cast
worked in reverse
and turned the witch into a toad.
Who would want to kiss her
and break the magic spell?
A fool or an idiot maybe.

Many years into the future
and the witch was still a toad,
and then along came a lonely man
with a heart of gold.
Gently he picked up the toad
and gave it a loving kiss.
There was a great puff of smoke
and there before him she stood.

Was it the woman he always longed for,
or was it the wicked witch?
Who may have learned her lesson
and mended her way.
The author is not revealing
he leaves it up to you to decide.

24 February 2011

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Me-Stew

I have nothing to put in my stew, you see,
Not a bone or a bean or a black-eyed pea,
So I'll just climb in the pot to see
If I can make a stew out of me.
I'll put in some pepper and salt and I'll sit
In the bubbling water--I won't scream a bit.
I'll sing while I simmer, I'll smile while I'm stewing,
I'll taste myself often to see how I'm doing.
I'll stir me around with this big wooden spoon
And serve myself up at a quarter to noon.
So bring out your stew bowls,
You gobblers and snackers.
Farewell--and I hope you enjoy me with crackers!

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Sonnet-My Poetry

Alone, I stir a cauldron of a brew,
The brew of Poesy, voluminous;
The aroma is great; so is the hue;
And formula-Inspiration, toil plus.

The consistency improves with more time;
The quantity has swollen to the brim;
The quality has been my concern prime.
The taste is set to my fancy and whim.

My magic- potion is more than ready;
And it will stay unspoilt over ages;
I feel not weary but happy, steady,
For time will pay me laurels as wages.

My job tho' more than half-done continues,
I'll get my limelight soon and hit the news.

poem by John Celes
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Halloween

Witches brew their Halloween stew
and stir the pot this day.
Ghosts and goblins prepare themselves
to eerily pass our way.
Skeleton bones rattle and shake
and come alive in the night.
Once again we're reminded of death
as the moon casts its light.

A chill in the air is felt by all
and a shiver runs through man.
Let us hold on fervently to our life
and defy this unearthly plan.
This night shall pass. Dawn will appear
and the Halloween stew will disappear.
All will be as it was before
this eerie night of the year.

poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Old Witch in the Copse

I am a Witch, and a kind old Witch,
There's many a one knows that--
Alone I live in my little dark house
With Pillycock, my cat.
A girl came running through the night,
When all the winds blew free:--
'O mother, change a young man's heart
That will not look on me.
O mother, brew a magic mead
To stir his heart so cold.'
'Just as you will, my dear,' said I;
'And I thank you for your gold.'
So here am I in the wattled copse
Where all the twigs are brown,
To find what I need to brew my mead
As the dark of night comes down.
Primroses in my old hands,
Sweet to smell and young,
And violets blue that spring in the grass
Wherever the larks have sung.
With celandines as heavenly crowns
Yellowy-gold and bright; All of these,
O all of these,
Shall bring her Love's delight.
But orchids growing snakey green
Speckled dark with blood,
And fallen leaves that curled and shrank
And rotted in the mud,
With blistering nettles burning harsh
And blinding thorns above;
All of these, O all of these
Shall bring the pains of Love.
Shall bring the pains of Love, my Puss,
That cease not night or day,
The bitter rage, nought can assuage
Till it bleeds the heart away.
Pillycock mine, my hands are full
My pot is on the fire.
Purr, my pet, this fool shall get
Her fool's desire.

poem by Frances Darwin Cornford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Old Witch in the Copse

I am a Witch, and a kind old Witch,
There's many a one knows that--
Alone I live in my little dark house
With Pillycock, my cat.
A girl came running through the night,
When all the winds blew free:--
"O mother, change a young man's heart
That will not look on me.
O mother, brew a magic mead
To stir his heart so cold."
"Just as you will, my dear," said I;
"And I thank you for your gold."
So here am I in the wattled copse
Where all the twigs are brown,
To find what I need to brew my mead
As the dark of night comes down.
Primroses in my old hands,
Sweet to smell and young,
And violets blue that spring in the grass
Wherever the larks have sung.
With celandines as heavenly crowns
Yellowy-gold and bright; All of these,
O all of these,
Shall bring her Love's delight.
But orchids growing snakey green
Speckled dark with blood,
And fallen leaves that curled and shrank
And rotted in the mud,
With blistering nettles burning harsh
And blinding thorns above;
All of these, O all of these
Shall bring the pains of Love.
Shall bring the pains of Love, my Puss,
That cease not night or day,
The bitter rage, nought can assuage
Till it bleeds the heart away.
Pillycock mine, my hands are full
My pot is on the fire.
Purr, my pet, this fool shall get
Her fool's desire.

poem by Barry Cornwall
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Bitchs Brew

I tell ya kinky
You foxy little flirt
I caught you in the biar path
Liftin up your skirt
Well let me tell ya
What you been doin in the firepatch
What you been doin with your little skirt
Got....
Youve been foolin with the bitchs brew
You know the things I told you not to do
You fell into the briar patch
Aint nothing gonna save your ass
Remember the things you said
The saving and the screams for bread
And now you just walked away
So take it away, all the way
Youre fooling with the bitchs brew
That aint the thing you ought to fool with
Now you keep your fingers out of there, honey
You know that aint no there
The way that you really feel
Down the parts on the way you deal
Where the witch is sight
And the things that you fight
(oh God)
Youve been messin with the bitchs brew
Now dont you know who youre talking to
Say youre talking to the bitchs who
Tell me you never really cared
The voodoo man eyes of fire
The hoodoo man most desire
The bitches are out n smooth
Tell from the light of the moon
(yodle-lay-lay-lay, yeah, yeah, yeah, come on)
Ive been thinkin
Had my hands through the sense of time
Yeah, and Ive been drinkin
Just to make this here song rhyme
Youre foolin with the bitchs brew
Now dont you, dont you, dont you, dont you...
Dont go foolin with the bitchs brew...

song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Test My Appetite

Some prefer and choose perfection,
To convey ideals...
Promoted to instill.
With a showing of a knowledge...
In a hope that this appeals.

And then there are those,
Who have chosen to be real.
Grounded and solid of sound minds.
To find they are critiqued...
By those of the pretentious kind.

'It is not proper etiquette,
To dip biscuits in stew.'

~Hey...
I am here to eat.
Not to see what others do.
And IF you're looking for a silver spoon.
To eat your stew?
You go and do that.
And my biscuits will be in your stew too!

In these times,
I will nourish first...
Before rehearsing any refinement,
I've learned from the past.
But today does not work.~

'It is not proper etiquette,
To dip biscuits in stew.'

~Hey...
I am here to eat.
Not to see what others do.
And IF you're looking for a silver spoon.
To eat your stew?
You go and do that.
And my biscuits will be in your stew too!

Go ahead!
Test my appetite!
I dare you.
Leave that stew.
And I'll show you what can be done with it.~

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Better Spice This With Brown Sugar

Last night...
I whipped up something,
To quench my appetite.

I diced onions and green peppers.
With tomatoes,
Broccoli and carrots too!
Knowing this would be liked.

I added red cabbage, potatos...
Dashed with salt and red pepper.
And other ingredients like curry...
To stimulate the brew.

'Something' said,
'You better spice this with brown sugar.'
So this I did do.

Then I next heated a frying pan.
From slow to medium.
But not hot!
With vegetable oil, butter and a bit of soy.
And all of it simmered in an aromatic splender.
And I ate it.
EVERY drop.
It was great!
And,
I must admit this...
I did lick the plate.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gen The Witch

The witch broods
In the middle of her self-centred, self-limiting
Tangled web of lies, half-truths and self-deception;
Ventures forth only to capture and envenom the unwary, the unknowing.

Their minds ingested by the witch,
Her progeny, indulged in baubles, chocolate and late-night television
Are ever by the maternal sac
Imbibing further indoctrination and instruction.

The witch, the witch, the witch.

poem by Mill Field
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Poetry operates by hints and dark suggestions. It is full of secrets and hidden formulae, like a witch's brew.

quote by Anthony Hecht
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Witch And The Cat

there was once a witch,
who loved to sew and stich,
with her she had a cat,
who could make all kind of hats
, once the day came,
when the cat ran away
, and the witch was to blame,
she cooked him a meal,
of rye and oatmeal
, the rye was sour,
and the oatmeal tasted like tar, s
o he galloped of,
to a fairy named heretha toff,
the witch when saw the scene,
was less than pleased,
she did a magic spell,
who cats whereabouts could tell,
she hurried towards the house,
quite as a mouse,
leave him alone you swine
that cat, yea him he's mine,
'okay'the fairy shuddered
cause the witch she dreaded,
but the cat gave out a tiny smile,
i'm gonna send you away a thousand miles,
he said something enchanted
the witch's face looked haunted'
what have you done to me'she cried
for she herself was flying
after the witch was gone
they celebrated with a songa
nd here is how it ened
no more the story bended
it ended in laughter
and a happy ever after.

poem by Kanika Varma
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The Toads Revenge

The spider ate the fly,
captured in a web of uncertainty.

The toad ate the spider,
captured in the swamp of reality.

The snake ate the toad,
captured in the grasses of fantasy.

The hawk ate the snake,
captured in the shade of unrest.

The man ate the golden hawk,
captured in the sky of extinction.

The man died with a broken arrow.
The toad had poison within the marrow.

poem by Saint Eule
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This Is Worse

have you been rollinsmoking cigarettes here
are you a lot like like me
cos I haven't seen anyone like you here
are you a lot like me
This is worse
Cos some people say your a witch
but I don't believe them
cos I think you alive now
stop if you say your a witch
I can't deny your a witch
I hate a witch
This is the worse one
I love you

song performed by by Idlewild
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Bullet With Your Name Upon Called Cause Effect

lead was in the words
lead was in the curses
a curse in words few

a cross fire fatal
shoot out a hate
brew bitter stew

lead in truth sped flew
a small projectile hate
fired millions to slew

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Razel the ice-witch song

Yes, I'm Razel the ice-witch, am evil and I'm ice blue,
Yes, I'm Razel the ice-witch, am evil and I can freeze you,
With my ice-device into an ice-cube!
I can freeze everything day or night!
I'm Razel the ice-witch and I'm sharp as ice!
I'm Razel the ice-witch, I'm evil and I'm bad,
I am Razel the ice-witch, I'm evil and I'm glad!
Because I can control your feelings thoughts and deeds,
Because I'm filled with spite and greed!
Yes, I'm Razel the ice-witch and I can freeze you just like that!
Yes, I can freeze you just like that! !
Uh, huh, huh, huh!

Written by Suzaria Star on June 3,1999
www.razelpuppet.com www.razel.us
www.suzaria.com

poem by Suzaria Star
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Man And His Laughter

Man
and his laughter
need no currency
you’ll agree
the brew
like great grandma’s stew
is scented
everywhere
from land and sea
every guffaw
marks a niche
of happiness
full of humour
laugh
while you can
‘cause laughter
makes the better
part of you.

poem by Leonard Dabydeen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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