The Season of the Witch
Most of the country is hushed out there
As the Moon climbs over the hill,
The creatures out in the wild beware
And the air is breathless, still,
The deer is stood at the edge of the wood
Afraid to go in too soon,
With the animals skittish, out in the yard
A hare stares up at the Moon.
There's something amiss in the air tonight
Both furtive and dark, unclean,
Shadows are lurking by old stone walls
In wait for a sign to be seen,
The men all sit in a vacant trance
As the women go out by the ditch,
Wearing their smoke-black cloaks in the dance
For the Season of the Witch.
Then like the flutter of vampire bats
The witches take to their brooms,
Hang on to their tall black pointed hats
And fly low over the tombs,
They head in a swarm up Gallows Hill
Fulfilling some ancient rite,
While watchful eyes at the window-sill
Will get little sleep this night.
For Alison, Lindy, Carmen and Deb
Are watching their mothers leave,
Tucked into bed as their mothers' fled
The girls creep out to deceive,
Pulling the curtains aside they see
The flight go over the hill,
And hear the cackling sounds of glee,
Then the air is cold and still.
Then Lindy calls to the other three
Through the window out to the farm:
‘Let's climb up there, where we all can see
What they're doing from high in the barn! '
So they dress themselves in their winter cloaks
And they put on their witches hats
That the mothers had made for Halloween,
Had decorated with bats.
They climbed up over the stacked up hay
To the roof of the timbered barn,
And they peered from the moonlit bullock dray
To the trees by the hilltop farm,
But the witches danced in a grove of trees
Quite hidden from anyone's sight,
‘Let's take our brooms, ' said Alison Keys
‘And fly while the Moon is bright! '
‘Let's fly while the Moon is bright, ' she said,
So they stood at the edge of the hay,
Looked down to the old paved cattle yard
And the tractor, over the way.
‘We saw them fly, we can do it too,
We're witches tonight, we've seen!
Tonight is the magical mystery night
For witches - it's Halloween! '
They mounted their broomsticks, held their breath
Then leapt each one with a scream,
They dropped like stones to the cattle yard
On the night of Halloween,
They were found impaled on the thresher blades
That was parked beside the ditch,
And the screams could be heard a mile away
In the Season of the Witch!
15 October 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Four Witches From Nowishes
On broom sticks road four young witches
from a far off land of Nowishes.
They wore tall hats upon their heads
in their hands, were apples they'd painted red.
To tempt the children on Halloween night
of candies from neighbors they'd gleaned.
For these four were not allowed you see
in the land of Nowishes, candy was never tasted or seen.
They wanted a taste of all those sugary delights
thoughts of candy danced in their heads
while on their broomsticks flight.
Swooping down, grabbing bags of tasty treats
leaving red apples, then flying off to eat.
Beware on Halloween night to hang on to your bags
you may be visited by four young witches
with rotted teeth of old hags!
You may see them as you glance at the moon
Coming from the land of Nowishes,
with painted apples on brooms.
poem by Linda Winchell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh, Halloween Eve
Owls are screeching
It’s icy cold outside,
The wind is howling
Leaves crackle under feet
On neighbor’s porches,
Glowing pumpkins greet
Arms are reaching
For candy baskets,
Kids are seeking
Shadows creep up on you
You almost scream,
When ghosts fly by n’ go boo!
Witches everywhere
On scruffy brooms,
Fly thru the night air
Costumes are a fright
Oh, Halloween Eve,
What a spooky night!
A Poem By Eva (Age 7)
poem by Ray Lucero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Witches' Glen - An Auld Tale
Gather aroon the ingle nuek
For ae eerie tale I'll tell -
'Boot a glen whar a witchy spook
Cast folk in her terrible spell.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.
Warlocks an witches dance at night
When the full-moon turns its ken!
Thunder rides on a bolt of light
The deil's in the witches' glen!
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.
Auld trees hang o'er the twisted wynd
An' blot oot the licht o' day;
An there, there's staring eyes tae find
A stranger wha's lost their way.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.
Frae Grennan wood she hailed an flew
A flash thru the black night wind
Come witchin hour everyin knew
She'd get a' the folks wha sinned.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.
They burned her on Kirkmaiden hill
An' they bound her on a stake:
She chanted spells that made 'em ill
An' they pray'd for Jesus' sake.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.
When ere ye walk the witches' glen,
Whar branches stretch oot like hands
Tak' Bible, cross an' say, Amen!
An' heed the guid Lord's commands.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she's still there tae be seen.
poem by Patrick Scott Hogg
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At Halloween
At Halloween, when nightmares start
And all things go awry
And there come strains upon the heart
Such that we're prone to die
And all at once a startling sound
Leaps like a lion's pounce,
It's then hobgoblins come around
And when your courage counts!
At Halloween, when ghoulies go
About the business here
And howling storms begin to grow
And growl as if with fear
And lightning strikes both Man and tree
And beast that's in the field,
It's then the ghosts are plain to see
With nothing left concealed!
At Halloween, when witches fly
On broomsticks high above
And brave old dogs begin to cry
When they've all seen enough
And little girls and little boys
Are told to go to sleep,
It's then the vampires steal their toys
And all their trinkets keep!
At Halloween, when warlocks scheme
To bring all kinds of hells
And sorcerers join as a team
As wizards cast their spells
And leprechauns protect their gold
And to the death they'll fight,
It's then policemen aren't so bold
And won't go out at night!
At Halloween, when mortals pray
For sunshine once again
And for the moon to pass away
Till noon's struck by Big Ben
And scaredy cats are mortified
By teeny weeny mice,
It's then your eyes are open wide
If you're touched by surprise!
At Halloween, I stay in bed!
I won't go out at all!
The blankets hide my trembling head!
I can't stand, walk or crawl!
The lights stay on all through the night!
I play the music loud!
Of course, I know I look a sight...
But so would you, no doubt!
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2011.
Poem accepted for publication in 2012 by
Forward Poetry, Peterborough, England.
poem by Denis Martindale
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The Coven
I had shot a couple of pheasants,
Was returning, deep from the wood,
Avoiding the crackle of branches, making
As little noise as I could,
The sky was clear and a harvest moon
Shone down through the old oak leaves,
When I saw the glimmer of candlelight
Shimmering through the trees.
I hid myself by the mighty oak
That had grown, six hundred years,
And heard the mutter of chanting there,
The rhyme of an evil verse,
I looked on out to a clearing where
The Devil and all were stood,
Thirteen candles and thirteen cloaks
And thirteen wearing a hood.
The Devil stood on an ancient stump
His face was hid from the mass,
He held a crucifix upside down
They all bowed down in the grass,
A woman rose from the group and peeled
The cloak that covered her form,
The sight of her beauty caught my breath
As if I'd never been born!
The hood remained, and concealed her face
As she dropped down on all fours,
The Devil leapt from his stump, and raged,
Then took her there by force;
The others chanted and danced about
In a circle, for some rite,
Despoiling the Devil's chosen witch
Was the purpose of that night.
They all dispersed as the moon went in
Was hid by an ugly cloud,
I kept my eye on the Devil's form
He was wrapped in a purple shroud,
I trailed him, loping, out of the wood
Like a beast that's held at bay,
And brought him struggling to the ground
To see what he'd have to say.
I ripped the hood from his evil face,
He snarled and snapped in the night,
‘Let's have a look at those evil eyes! '
He growled, and put up a fight;
But I laid him low by the mansion gate
And I held him there on the ground,
He yelled: ‘I'm the Lord of Leighton Hay
The Lord of these these woods and downs! '
‘So this is the Demon Devil's face,
Then who was the Winsome Witch?
I'm sure the Lady of Leighton Hay
Would be ready to flay the bitch! '
‘You mustn't tell, it would break the spell
Of the coven, and all my power,
What would you take for your silence, now,
For the reck of this parlous hour! '
‘There's just one thing that I'd take from you
To silence this gossiping tongue,
She's sweet, petite, and has dancing feet,
And I guess you know, she's young! '
‘If you talk about Lady Caroline,
My daughter, never for you! '
‘Oh well, the Lady of Leighton Hay
May brew up a Hell of a stew! '
That was a year and a day ago,
We wed, and live in the lodge,
The witches are still in the woods out there,
I often go out to watch;
But my Lady wife is an innocent,
I know she'd never deceive,
Except for the pot of serpents and frogs
She brewed on All Hallows Eve!
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Here!
Men of god sent it away with verses of their holy book
Sun for our day
Moon for night.
Teachers sent it away with the light of their chalk
Sun for our day
Moon for night.
Bankers sent it away with the disco dance of their pen
Sun for day
Moon for our night.
Lawmen sent it away with quotations, wigs, and guns
Sun for our day
Moon for our night.
Doctors sent it away with piercing needle
Sun for our day
Moon for our night.
President and his men banished them
Sun for our day
Moon for our night.
Women are witches
Men are wizards
In gloom, we mate
Give birth and breed
With graves everywhere.
poem by Alade Abayomi IdrisWhite
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Halloween I Am
This is the winning poem of the Jon London's The Halloween Challenge last year.
Hello! ! This is the last night of October Speaking! !
Ghoulish costumes and Jack-O -Lantern is what I’m seeking
Hobgoblins, ghosts, witches all are freaky freaking
I parade around the neighbourhood when kids are tricking
Trick or treating, bob for apples anything will do
Beg for soul-cakes when skeletons say –“BOO”!
Instead of turnips the perfect pumpkin carved
Candy Factory, Creepy Cupcakes are you all starved?
Black cats drink water breaking superstitious dam
So, Beware! Spooky grim night Halloween I am! ! ! !
Written on the night of 8th of October,2010
poem by Munia Khan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Trick or treat?
It's that time of the year again
when things go bump in the night
when children wander the streets
trying hard to give us a fright.
Wearing long black coats
and witches hat's upon their head
they dress up like scary monsters
and zombies who've risen from the dead.
But last year was a spooky Halloween
when at midnight I heard scratching at my door
nervously I opened it to see who was there
it was a Werewolf blood dripping from it's jaw.
I laughed and said that's a really good disguise
but fancy calling round so late at night
the Werewolf then let out a mighty roar
and grabbed my neck and gave it a bite.
This hideous thing wasn't a child after all
and it then just vanished into thin air
since that night I've never been the same
I bark at the Moon, have claws and long hair.
So let this be a warning to you all
as you don't know what lurks in your street
just be careful before opening your door
on this years Halloween and trick or treat!
poem by Kevin Halls
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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
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You Want To Be A Real Big Witch
You want to really be a witch?
Well...
I knew some pretty wicked witches,
Who...
Made me pitch to them,
Many a fit.
And I split.
You want to be a real big witch,
Well...
I knew some pretty wicked witches,
Who...
Made me pitch to them,
Many a fit.
And I split.
You want to be the biggest at the ball of all witches,
Don't you?
You do.
Don't you.
You do.
Don't you.
You do.
And you're proving it too!
You do.
You want to be the biggest at the ball of all witches...
Don't you?
You do.
Don't you?
You want to be a real big witch,
Don't you?
You want to be the biggest at the ball of all witches.
You want to be a real big witch,
Don't you?
You want to be the biggest at the ball of all witches.
You want to be a real big witch,
Don't you?
You want to be a real big witch,
Don't you?
You want to be a real big witch,
Don't you?
You want to be a real big witch.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Smoke
Smoke, it is all smoke
in the throat of eternity. . . .
For centuries, the air was full of witches
Whistling up chimneys
on their spiky brooms
cackling or singing more sweetly than Circe,
as they flew over rooftops
blessing & cursing their
kind.
We banished & burned them
making them smoke in the throat of god;
we declared ourselves
"enlightened."
"The dark age of horrors is past,"
said my mother to me in 1952,
seven years after our people went up in smoke,
leaving a few teeth, a pile of bones.
The smoke curls and beckons.
It is blue & lavender
& green as the undersea world.
It will take us, too.
O let us not go sheepishly
clinging to our nakedness.
But let us go like witches sucked heavenward
by the Goddess' powerful breath
& whistling, whistling, whistling
on our beautiful brooms.
poem by Erica Jong
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Come Dance With Me
Come dance with me
On this Halloween night
Watch out for the gobblins
They might give you a fright
Come dance with me
And listen to the witches cackle
And as we go around the fire
Listen to the sticks pop and crackle
Come dance with me
Sorry if I step on your toes
For I never got use to
All these to-and-froes
Come dance with me
In that long black dress
Oh you look so hot
I may as well confess
Come dance with me
In the moons bright glow
If love is for real
We are about to know
Come dance with me
Until the morning light
And once we kiss
Everything will be alright
poem by Norman Hale
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Wicked Witch
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.
poem by Paula Glynn
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Our Secret Sonar Romances
bats are back
their fruit trees in fruit
night feast flight
flit flit flutter flight
fruit passion consumed
in tree dance flight
season past season
come dance our night
under shades of moon
I click my fingers
a few bats flit flight
fly up circle come
fly past my face
a few feet away
flit flight greetings
they like the audience
sonar image my face
thought whisper greet
ink veil night magic
moon crescent night magic
arch phases paint magic
dark building backdrops
stand tall solid frame trees
in background night prayers
silhouette shadow salutes
sky heaven altar glorious
heart stirs in night shades
friend bats flutter flight
disappearing back into trees
feast feed ripe flower fruits
friend bats I know
your ways of disappearing
friend bats I know
your night vision trails
your night vision paths
your night cycle dances
flowers fade into rebirth
organic petal forget me nots
out of sight out of mind
love is bat night flight born
bats my rest break companions
we share night flight visions
this realm of darkness
our mind flight mansions
our secret sonar romances
Dedicated to Miroslava Odalovic who shared a few of my nights with conversation between ritual night writing songs of creativity.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Moon
the moon is the centre
of the night
carving darkness
into shapes
releasing shadows
from their souls
the moon
unleashes
hidden power
into the world
causing the sea to swirl
my fear to grow
the surgeon's
nervous first cut
where blood oozes
to the size of the moon
on beds too
two love birds sing
their passion to
the unilluminated
part of the moon
two cats launch their
roucous foreplay
in the alleyway
tickling insomniacs
offering a comic respite
to their plight
the full moon
multiplies evil
and witchcraft
in the hissing of the bats
hoots of the owls
and the towering trees
that have greeted it 100,000 days
underneath which
even my shadow shrinks
to a half moon
i know why a hundred witches spring
to action on such nights
i wish not to die on
a full moon night
though it has shed its light
in a million love poems
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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A Haunting Fright
'twas the middle of fall
on a cold spooky night
the fog and the moon,
such an eerie sight!
witches with cats
flying in the air
broomsticks at hand
they give quite a scare!
Goblins and ghouls
put a shiver down my spine
as do skeletons
while they hang from a vine
wherewolves howl
at the sheen of the moon
as skeletons dance
to the awful tune
so just when you thought
that all you could see
the spirits are haunting
their silent plea
so i leave you to ponder
upon this dreadful thought
you think its all over
but i think not!
poem by Nicolette Anna
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Moon, Moon, Crazy Moon
moon, moon, crazy moon
natural moon
torn apart and snoozing moon;
lovely moon, romantic moon
poor poor moon
the romance
plucked out of its drab surface;
moon moon going wild
moon moon running away
from the earth -
O moon, why do you run away from the earth?
does earth touch you in the wrong places
and you've got no Body
to which one could lodge
a complaint about sexual harassment? ?
ah, moon moon, temperamental moon
dark moon
glowing moon;
sexy moon
and old-woman hag of a moon;
moon moon with the best views of the earth
moon moon moon
puts me to sleep and wakes me up
in the middle of nights;
and one day we'll sleep in the moon
and produce babies there
and we'll have the first moon-ish boys and girls
and moon-ly families;
but meanwhile
moon moon driving fanatics
and inspiring love and romance and myths
moon moon eerie moon
moon moon that presides over love and horrors
and evil and good
and naked witches dancing in moonlit groves;
pooor moon moon the earth moon
not as interesting and dramatic as other moons;
don't get too friendly and dropp in -
oh, never dropp in, no one invited you
silly mooonn, no no, you're not invited home to earth
moon moon cheese moon eaten by mice;
but still our dear moon darling moon
moon mooon
our very own earth's moon
as we moo moo like cows
moo moo moo mooo
at our own moon moon moon
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Dragula
Dragula
Dead I am the one, exterminating son
Slipping through the trees, strangling the breeze
Dead I am the sky, watching angels cry
While they slowly turn, conquering the worm
Dig through the ditches,
Burn through the witches
I slam in the back of my
Dragula
Dig through the ditches,
Burn through the witches
I slam in the back of my
Dragula
Dead I am the pool, spreading from the fool
Weak and want you need, nowhere as you bleed
Dead I am the rat, feast upon the cat
Tender is the fur, dying as you purr
Dig through the ditches,
Burn through the witches
I slam in the back of my
Dragula
Dig through the ditches,
Burn through the witches
I slam in the back of my
Dragula
Do it baby, do it baby
Do it baby, do it baby
Burn like an animal
Dead I am the life, dig into the skin
Knuckle crack the bone, 21 to win
Dead I am the dog, hound of hell you cry
Devil on your back, I can never die
Dig through the ditches,
Burn through the witches
I slam in the back of my
Dragula
Dig through the ditches,
Burn through the witches
I slam in the back of my
Dragula
Do it baby, do it baby
Do it baby, do it baby
Burn like an animal
Dig through the ditches,
Burn through the witches
I slam in the back of my
Dragula
Dig through the ditches,
Burn through the witches
I slam in the back of my
Dragula
Dig through the ditches,
Burn through the witches
I slam in the back of my
Dragula
song performed by by Rob Zombie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Barn and the Down
t stood in the sunset sky
Like the straight-backed down,
Many a time - the barn
At the edge of town,
So huge and dark that it seemed
It was the hill
Till the gable's precipice proved
It impossible.
Then the great down in the west
Grew into sight,
A barn stored full to the ridge
With black of night;
And the barn fell to a barn
Or even less
Before critical eyes and its own
Late mightiness.
But far down and near barn and I
Since then have smiled,
Having seen my new cautiousness
By itself beguiled
To disdain what seemed the barn
Till a few steps changed
It past all doubt to the down;
So the barn was avenged.
poem by Edward Thomas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Circles Round The Moon
Tonight I drew a circle round the moon
This night I drew a circle round the moon
Through a glazed up frosty window
I drew a circle round the moon
Tonight I stood on the end of a pier
And the moon flooded the bay
And as it caught the rolling tide
I swear the waves stopped dead
Tonight I ran through dark streets
And cut the heads off all the flowers
And replaced them with something beautiful
That could never ever die
Tonight I lay by my open window
And listened to the rain
Gently lapping the ground outside
And smiling, I lay still
Tonight on the end of that pier
I longed for someone to hold
To share this beautiful sight with
And see the circles round the moon
Tonight the moon told me something
The moon it told me to live
It told me to live, not merely exist
So I could decapitate the flowers
But I didn’t take any notice
And killed myself instead
And if you look up at the sky tonight
There’ll be a circle round the moon
poem by Perfect Fool
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