And the witch burnt, flames crackling in delight
As her ghastly cackles rang wildly through the night
September 17 and October 10, 2010
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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Reading of my poem on youtube
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t30lEf8XdL0
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