poems3

Alone!

By: Edger Allen Poe

From childhood's hour I have not been
as others were-I have not seen
As others saw-I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not takenn
My sorrow, I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone:
And all I lov'd, I lov'd alone
then-in my childhood-in the dawn
Of a most stormy life-was drawn
From ev'ry deph of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still;
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff, of the mountain.
From the sun that 'round me roll'd
In it's autumn tint of gold-
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass'd me flying by-
From the thunder and the storm,
and the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
of a demon in my view.

Shadow of the Beast!
By: Alex Knight

Through ancient pathways I've traveled corridors of eternal night,
Mystic realms and undreamed spells spectres of insight night.
In the mists of nightmares grasps drifting through the haze,
I sence the call of something sought and glazed upon it's grave.
Lurking beneath the dampened earth and hidden from all light,
Cryptic spell that bound the beast hidden from all sight.
I touched it's soul and felt it's strenght before I could recede,
I realized the beast I sought in truth was only me!

Witches World!
By Alex Knight

It was on peaceful paths they wandered the bless faith of natures way's of love and creations land,
When church and clergy damned with doctrine, the hearts of tranquil healing hand.
Baptised in the fire of ignorance and written in innocent blood, the Fransican and Dominican's brought the paple bull to word,
"Malleus Maleficarum", "the hammer of witches", a statement of judicial views twisted in hatred and fearfully blurred.
Healers and hearts of serenity's way, were burned and tortured by church and ministry, in the name of a loving God,
Piers burned brightly throughout Europe as the flesh of the innocent fueled the fires, and silver became payment exchanging conience for spilled blood.
The trials waged war upon heart and soul, doctrine dictated freedom of choice, and life drained as crimson streams into the seas of time,
Now in stillness, they stand as harmony settles within the Northren winds once more, and the smoke clears from the lies that are now only remembered in tale and rhyme.

The Road Not Taken!
By: Robert Frost 1920

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could to where it bend in the undergrowth;
then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took tha one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Witch Alone!

Beyond the town, beneath the moon
Beside the standing stone

There lives a woman, fair of faith
We call the witch alone

She sings to sun and moon and stars
And gathers herbs and weeds

With which she fashions ancient charms
And other magic deeds

She worships not at alters built
By hands of moral men

But in the misty glad
Beyond the farthest glad

What need has she of flashing swords
Of crystals glowing bright

Of censors and of colored cords
That grace the wiccan rite

Her tools are fashioned from the earth
And wind and fire and rain

Her rites are dances wild and free
That call the gods amain

When spring and summer pass to fall
And twilight fills her eyes

She'll lie upon the browning grass
And smiles as she dies

For though she leaves her mortal shell
Of flesh and blood and bone

She knows she does not die but lives
On, as the witch alone

By: Scott Cunningham