Tag Archives: verse

Gather here all ye witches 2

Gather here all ye witches

Here your sisters cry

There is somebody that I wish would die

They caused me great pain

Great pain in my youth

This is why I call upon my sisters to spill out the truth

Yes I am in agony, the pain it will not cease

I want the one who did this, to suffer if you please

Gather around me brothers, warlocks powerful and strong

Please ring out the vengeance spell and chant your wicked songs

The pot is ready and boiling over

The ingredients are at the helm

Ready to be stirred with the powers sent from the darkest realms

Here is an eye of evil

A toad foot and some flax

A vile of baby blood and a ruby dressed in wax

Here is some boiled candy to make the vengeance sweet

And with a chunk of lead and graveyard dirt the spell is near complete

I stir the mixture, I stir it well

I stir with all the forces of darkness and of Hell

I add a little tincture of Angelica root

And from the cauldron fire, some ashes and some wood

There completes the vengeance spell

Now chant brothers and sisters, chant for Hell

You have crossed our sister

Who was a mild child

You caused her pain and grief

Until it sent her wild

You turned a good heart bad

With your evil deeds

Now with Hell by her side

You will surely grieve

Father of Hell unite with us your loyal folk

And douse her enemies with viles of poisoned yolk

Drown their soul in agony and despair

Make the vengeance sweet

And make it also fair

We hum an ancient tune

That will gather all our verve

We stir the pot

With the life that you deserve

Feel the power of the darkness

Feel it biting through

For we have had enough of the very likes of you

Here ye dark angels sing

The bell of vengeance ring

Oh ye witches sing

Here comes the wicked king

All ye darkest powers

Grow and grow and grow

Fill this soul with sorrow, fill it with woe

Oh ye ancient powers

Here our calls

Devour this enemy

Help us with their fall

The spell is done

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Home to home

I have a wonderful home where the butterfly roam and the trees are purple and gold

I have a small garden fragrant and sweet, where silver geese have overflown

There is lavender blue and forget me nots too and the wine comes straight from the vine

I sit and I knit with cobwebs I’ve picked, laced with dew and I think life is fine

How the laughter of summer gives us all good cheer and warms us straight to the bone

I sit and I ponder about life beyond yonder and I can’t ever leave this home

For it is said there, that life is cold and without care

That people laden forests with chrome

They have not a good thought about what will be fraught of the animals they have to rehome

I cannot yet see, how life can be, as cold and cruel as it is there

I cannot imagine life within margins where everything is ripped bare

I don’t believe it’s true, I bet neither can you

Those creatures can be so mean

It must be a story for there is no glory in living life that demeans

So I sit in wonder at that awful place

It can’t be real I say

For surely intelligent creatures can see the damage of what they take away?

Life can never be that way

I think here I am meant to stay

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Learning about prose, poetry and verse

I am an almost entirely self-taught writer and artist, I have never received proper formal training in my creative endeavours; the closest I believe would be the English Literature GCSE I did in distance learning college when I was twenty one; I am never sure if my grammar or punctuation is correct and I have little confidence in how professional I come across.  I am confounded when I hear that many writers will edit and reedit their work even before they blog it, to me, every blog post, every blog poem and story is a first draft – is this really so bad to confess?

I never really had proper schooling as a child either; my time within the educational system was sparse with long bouts of home education where my very dyslexic and sheltered mother would be my only teacher.  Even as a home educated child, I was mostly self-taught via books from the library or videos and magazines – I never got my hands on the internet until my seventeenth birthday and I only got it because my mother was pushed into it by both my brother and society as a whole – because when I reached college age, most things I needed were online and hard to find offline.  My pleads with my mum for the internet were only heard when several times we entered stores inquiring about college books and other things I needed for my studies and was told to go to the web – which for several weeks my mother thought was some new brand of shop and she kept looking for it everywhere, until my teacher explained to us both the web was actually the internet.

I never learned, even to this day the difference between poetry, prose, rhyme, haiku and song.  But I am starting to learn – better late than never, eh?

Rhyme and poetry, are they the same?  I don’t know yet – but it is prose that throws me.

Haiku explanation is the simplest of the lot – but what makes a song?  Is a song really a long poem that repeats itself?  I think it is, but not clear.

This is why I lump all those things together in tags – most of my things are rhyme or poetry I believe, though I am not sure I quite understand how to create a stanza – what is a stanza?  Is it just a paragraph?  I don’t know, I am still learning.

This blog is as much about my learning of the craft as it is my doing of the craft.

I must admit, other than just doing the craft, I don’t do much learning of it.  I never actually went out of my way to read books about how to hone my craft and understand the terminologies – the only exception to the rule are the books I read on how to write fiction and how to write generally – such as Stephen King’s On Writing and Julia Cameron’s the artist way and that sort of thing.

It is only recently that I learned to try and not to write numbers down like this, I was 21yrs old and I ate 5 mouthful of peas – instead I know that I should write I was twenty one years old and ate five mouthful of peas – it seems rather basic, but they are important things to learn.

I consider myself an artist, though I have never sold a piece of work purely on the base that I never know if my work is finished properly enough to sell – for example, do I have to varnish a painting or preserve it in some way and if so how and what do I do?  I have researched this online and I don’t find the kind of help I need.

So this post is just letting you know that I am still on a learning curve about what a poem is and what is prose?

 

 

 

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Gather here all ye witches

Gather here all ye witches

Gather here in the midnight wood

Call upon your greatest powers

For evil not for good

Let your powers go berserk

There are people I want to curse

So gather here tonight, be called with my verse

Bring your familiars and your demons

Bring them all here tonight

Burn with aching desire filled with the devils semen

Raise your kundalini snake, higher and higher

Revenge is my desire

Witches, sisters, brothers, warlocks

Gather here; have my enemy’s soul locked

Locked in hatred, locked in pain

Drive this bastard’s mind insane

When the bell tolls of his death

When he has drawn his last breath

He will not be released from this torment

Not until he has repent – for the time he hurt me

Let it be, let it be, let it be

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Big brother from the dark

I am a shadow on the wall and I will follow you

Everywhere you creep, I will be with you

Following your every step, I will haunt you

There is nothing you can do

I am always watching you

Like big brother from the dark

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Nightmare of writer’s block or the stories argument!

Gargoyles, leprechauns and witches oh my, they sit and clog up in my head. No room for vampires they always say, aren’t vampires now nearly dead?
They always have been, I reply, that’s their charm and wonder and grace.
But the others they sit and they frown in despair as though I have slapped their face!
Stop this jealousy, I always cry, it’s the vampires turn not yours
But the leprechauns sit and they chastise me a lot for not allowing them to finish their wars.
Then the witches with their bleak little cackles threaten to curse me if I forget, to add to their stories a little more gory, about a curse they’ve beset.
The gargoyle just moans and groans and cries out words like ALAS! Get on with my story, do not ignore me or I will kick you up the ass!
Now that’s quite enough bad language from you, says I with a determined glare
If I want to sit and write something else, I shall and it’s the vampire’s lair!
Not him again, they all shout and cry once again for the umpteenth time, you have to finish us before you start another story, song or rhyme!
Oh for peace sake, I say in an irate moan, I’ll burn you to ashes if I please, if you annoy me just once more you’re out of the door, stop bringing me to my knees
It is vampires tonight, whether you want it or like, I need to get them down too, so I start on the story, it’s a little bit gory, so the vampire sits in the queue.
Why stop there in my elaborate lair? Asks the vampire looking at me
Oh don’t you start, I say to him, don’t become like the other three!
Just leave me alone whilst I sit and think and sip at my sweet black tea.
Now where was I? I say to myself, oh yes, the miserable banshee!

The poem above reflects on my exact thoughts as a writer.  My stories which are put on hold are literally lining up to nag me to think of them even now I intend to focus on just one or two.  I hope a lot of writers who have unfinished projects agree that they also go through the same thing as me, because if not, then perhaps I need a therapist, ha-ha!

I often struggle with which of my stories to concentrate on day to day; some ideas have been coming on and off the shelf for the last twenty six years, yes, twenty six years!  I have stories about leprechauns, gargoyles, witches, banshees, and zombies, girls cooped up in a mental asylum, demon animals, vampires and many more.  Back in 2009 I decided to make a list of all the stories I had started but never finished past the first draft and the list came to 76; I lost the list when moving house and I have since added to it, I also lost a lot of papers when moving house so a lot of the ideas I started are lost somewhere in time and space.

Due to the motivational archive I found on YouTube recently, I discovered that it’s not that I lacked momentum when I was writing for all these years; I lacked consistency with sticking with something to the end.  I didn’t prioritise which idea I wanted to finish the most and that is what I have been focusing on since mid-September, I have been trying to focus my ideas on just two books and I have set myself a goal, which the archives suggested would help me.  I am to finish the leprechaun novel by June 2019 but the vampire novel must be finished by the end of January. 

The vampire novel I am working on is part of NaNoWriMo, but I know in my hearts of heart that 50,000 words is just too short for the story I am writing, wrimo is merely giving me the boost that I need to press on with it, so I shan’t be stopping at the end of November.  I also found other sites where writers can set their own goals, I found it through http://writetrack.davidsgale.com and there is another one called http://nanocountdown.com/advanced.html  you can set your own schedules and daily word count, it helps keeps you focused.

There will be another, very short post later on today when I have finished writing for the day to update you on how much I’ve done on the monthly challenge and other writing projects.

Ciao for now.

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The fates rhyme

As the midnight hour approaches

All the evil things encroaches

On all the living and the dozy

As they sleep in bed all nice and cosy

Weaving magic above their heads

Some will wake in the morning

Some will not

Some will awaken before then, in shock!

As nightmares are woven above their heads

Spinning yarns of fate on fine threads

No one knows what waits for them

In the morning, an evil fate or a shining gem

It is always a new dawning

And the fates never give a warning

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The wretched will demise

Witch from pixabay

 

The curse of a thousand years is upon you

The wretched will demise

Slowly your lineage falters

Because of your every lie

And witches cast their spells on you

They stir the magic in their pot

And I will rescue not one of you

Because you deserve the lot

Oh yes you wicked thing, wicked things shall come to you

For like attracts like within the witches stew

And slowly it shall burn your soul and terror it will thrive

Because you crossed an evil witch and now she’ll destroy your life

So slowly she will stir the pot, so the brew is ready

The spell shall come so slowly, so slowly and so steady

And you will realise what you’ve done, when it’s far too late

But now the spell it has been cast, the witch has sealed your fate

 

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Going deaf to your misery

 

royalty free image from pixabay

DISCLAIMER – 

The below poem is not meant to be offensive – I am personally a sensory impaired member of society, I am very short sighted with astigmatism and I am totally deaf in my right ear with only 35% hearing in my left ear and I could potentially lose that, considering I have auto-immune inner ear disease.  I have only learned to develop a sense of humour with the cards I’ve been dealt with in life, please understand.

 

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of deaf

I shall hear no evil, but see a lot I might

Though I hear not the barks that scold me, I see the awful sight

Evidence of those who hate me are seen everywhere

And they sit back and they think that I really, really care

But yea, the mind is full of ego

And they shall think of themselves

I shall sit in wonderment, why they don’t put the hate on their shelves?

I wonder why every day, why they think of me?

When I have left them long ago, yet they still want to torture me?

Then I realise that those poor dears, they do not have a life

So that is why they taunt me, with curses and poisoned words of strife

They of course have an ego too, that you can be sure

That they sit around every day gossiping of the times of yore

Becoming old and bitter, making their friends think that they are a bore

By choosing to focus on the dead past, the past that makes them sore

And I sit back still amazed, that they have chosen to concentrate

On things about me, each and every day, because poisoned words always finds a way

To go back to the victim

You see that’s the side effects of your conviction

Gossip not and leave the friction

 

 

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I will rescue you

I’m am talking about the scriptures

I am talking about the books

I have a message for you

Would you please take a look?

You shepherd to me pain

You created the evil and insane

You make things hard to gain

Yet you still won’t take the blame

God, you ask me to trust you

And I can trust you not

Because each creation is made by you

You’ve made everything – the lot

You tell me to be wary of evil

How not to fool for their games

Yet I wonder why you tell me

What are your puzzling aims?

You see, I think you lie to me

I think you lie and cheat

I don’t think the word of God is yours

The bible was written by a sneak

That’s why you have no name

That’s why you refuse to tell

You try to cheat all of us and put us under spells

You’ve armies who believe in you

You’ve armies who’d fight your wars

Yet God is the name for love

So why don’t you show me yours?

You see I doubt the word of the scriptures that every religion tells

I believe it’s the act of the deceiver, who has put everyone under spells

It was once said “evil hides within the eyes of the innocent” and that is very true

Everyone who has faith in this, is under the spell that’s you

I don’t believe you are God at all

I don’t believe your lies

You’re just a book that tells us stories that are endless in supply

I know that God does exist and he isn’t inside of you

The innocence you have stolen, the world doesn’t have a clue

You’ve imprisoned their hearts and their minds

You’ve taken all their souls

Yet they still worship and believe, that your laws are old as time

Well I am here to free them, to save them with my rhyme

To open their minds and hearts

To open the door to them

I will try and lead them all back home again

For God is the word of love, he discriminates not at all

Anyone who tells you he does, is a liar, that is all

If your book tells you to hate or kill, it is not true scripture it is evil still

Do you want to pay the price?  Do you want me to hand you the bill?

Do you want to be lost forever?  Do you want to stay unfulfilled?

Then take my hand and come with me, to a better place.

A place where I can show you truth, far away from the base

Yes you already live in Hell, you didn’t know it, but now you do

And here is my hand outstretched, here to rescue you

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