Chapter 53: Poetry: When I was a Witch

Poetry Exercise.

Trying to creatively express some current interests without being so over the top obvious. Failing badly. I’m either subtle as a rodeo hippo or so cryptic that on a re-read even I don’t know what the hell I’m waffling about.

To help anyone brave enough to read on – this is a combo of a documentary I watched on Netflix recently about the witch burnings in Britain; my fascination with Scottish and Welsh witches when I went to Scotland and Wales in 1991 with my folks as a surly, Beatles obsessed teen – AND – my Mum’s go-to costume for many a school dress up – naturally – I was frequently a witch.

Enjoy.

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WHEN I WAS A WITCH

Bubble Bubble

Always in trouble

sketchy DNA

coursing veins

No doubt the same

gypsy healers

before

England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales

thrifty costume

screams

and wails

on platformed pire

engulfed in fire

for a brew of lavender tea

when i was a witch

holiday trip

Scottish witches

new obsessions

every school dress up

fascination,

drawn –

hypocrisy and horror

the quickening

the fem and masc…

always interesting.

Sabrina in the know

Archie comics just for her

check bags

royal show

though

not the little pig tailed witch

playing at pretend

shunning screams within 

it’s them!

it’s them!

it’s them…
again.

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