Witch Hunt

The crops had failed,
Suspicion trailed
Till fingers pointed at
The widow Joan who lived alone
In rags with her black cat.

As rumours grew
Some said she flew
With demons late at night,
They judged the hag and in a gag
Led her with beacons bright.

Despite the chill
On Gallows Hill,
Pulsating went the throb
Among the crowd who shouted loud,
A Devil-fearing mob.

She swung aloft,
The hangman coughed
And spat but didn't check,
For it was clear from every cheer
The noose had snapped her neck.

They threw the witch
Into a ditch,
They cursed the one who died,
A country breed content indeed
That God was on their side.


©

Such a funny poem Barbeler - welcome to thread by the way

Good advice - another really funny poem

Superb - I love poetry that deals with great historical moments. This really takes you to the hell of the battle-scene, I could almost hear the canons firing. Nelson was a national hero in his day, although I sense modern education plays down such military heroes.

Nice to see a title for this one too Elyan

Thanks Jim - It started off as a pastime, but I've amassed so much material that a book's coming out at the end of the year

A veritable epic BB I can't resist a bit of mythology and this ticked all the right boxes. The poem must have taken a lot of research, as it details so many characters and events. Nice to see Cyclops in there, he's one of my favourite monsters! I'm going to dig out my Jason and the Argonauts DVD now

An excellent ride through Olympus

Actually I read it in a pamphlet lying on a sun bed

Ohhh Jason and the Argonauts ! Great film...as long as it's the original with the fighting skeletons

Great witch poem It's a good job I didn't live back then as I've got a Mallen streak these days and I think that was the sign of a witch ! Mind you I dye it, just incase I end up in a ditch

So many thoughts,
such a variety of emotions,
thoughts, fears, wishes,
hopes, daydreams,
nightmares...
such compassion and such anger -
all are potentials,
contained within,
each human person.

Such possibilities exist
in both one and all,
to experience,
share, spread, confide;
to connect and to devastate,
for as a species we're born to be,
born to feel, born to live,
born to leave our mark,
on those around us,
others, companions of the human race.

Each human person contains such potential,
living out their own life,
shaping those of others,
the question is -
which direction will yours go in?
good or bad, have you any real control?
does whats inside, dictated by past events,
humiliation, insults,
compliments, thrills,
experiences and tragedy alike,
form the future we face?.
Or do we hold the possibilities,
to break free,
fly away, sever the presumptions
be what is right for you and me?.

Can you tell the thoughts,
emotions,
all that make me, me?
based on what I say, do and write,
or do you have the wrong idea entirely?
perhaps as you read this,
you sub-consciously think you know
maybe, I can guess your outlook
based on your outbursts,
or maybe we hide,
hide our true selves,
deep within.

Each human person has the key,
symbolically,
the option, to be who and what they want to be,
if they can accept what they've been given
and genuinely motivate themselves,
you can become the good you want to see more of in the world.

Are you having a laugh?

A bird could have sat on the apple and made the apple fall.

Hey Little Bird

Hey little bird
what do you do?
I sit on apples
that make cider for you
this apple will fall
so outta the way
many apples to pick
for your basket today

Lovely

I'm not very good with names of plants It was actually alpine

http://portraitsofalpineplants.com/P...e%20Plants.htm

Thanks BB - I'll have to look up Mallen streak

'Tis the original Jason with the fighting skeletons

As ever Izzy, another thought-provoking piece. Much enjoyed

You can't beat a drop of cider Sandy

Wenge

'Wenge' upset English scholars,
They got in such a huff
That BBC white-collars
Banned Wenge from Call My Bluff.

No dictionary logs it,
The word receives disdain,
A tawdry feeling dogs it,
Perhaps I should explain;

The surge when men see females
Is all that Wenging means,
A thrill as fast as e-mails
From nice curves or tight jeans.

Ingrained since we were tribal,
Nobody can deny
Some ladies get the eyeball
As they go passing by.

The same condition rightly
Stirs frog and cockatoo,
I've Wenged at Keira Knightley
And Cher's left knocker too.

The Church of England hid it,
The term may not have stuck
But Charles the Second did it
And so did Friar Tuck.

To Wenge: a sudden tingle
That helps those who've been ditched,
It happens when you're single
Or even if you're hitched.


©

Wenge will probably annoy hard-line feminists - I can't imagine Harriet Harperson enjoying it The poem was meant to be funny, so I make no apologies for the content.

No doubt I'll have a few Wenges on the way home too

Ta Sandy

Thank you Musty I've had a poem published in a charity magazine - thats the first time I've had a poem published/printed in an official publication! I'm quite proud of that.

Thats quite possibly the closest I'll get to being published but it still counts

Land Shanty

Marching uphill, t’ward the French and their guns,
A batallion of redcoats walked into the sun,

With orders to capture the top of that hill,
They’d need guts of iron and unwavering will

The drums from the summit, accompanied by song
Sent chills through the ranks of the red-coated throng

But a Major on horseback, to courage provoke
Raised a hat to his soldiers and sang Hearts of Oak

"We’ll still make them fear
And we’ll still make them flee
And drub them on shore
As we’ve drubbed them at sea
Then cheer up my lads
And with one heart let’s sing
Our soldiers, our sailors
Our leaders, our King"

The men sang it loud as the muskets fired down
And gaps in the ranks formed as some went to ground

The smoke filled the air and the ranks closed again
A column of England’s best red-coated men

Through volleys of fire they kept marching toward
The hilltop, and with it the deadly French hoard

But with bayonets before them, and steel in their eyes
They humbled their killers as loudly they cried

"We’ll still make them fear
And we’ll still make them flee
And drub them on shore
As we’ve drubbed them at sea
Then cheer up my lads
And with one heart let’s sing
Our soldiers, our sailors
Our leaders, our King"

That's great news Izzy Keep plugging away - you never know where it might lead

Another excellent war poem! This one reminded me of Waterloo with the red-coated English soldiers giving the French what for

Superb imagery Elyan

Ophelia, as painted by John Everett Millais

Among the reeds and clutching Dead Man's Fingers
A form disturbed the quiet riverside;
The presence of Ophelia still lingers,
Though long ago it is now since she died.

She'd climbed a weeping willow as intended,
Yet halfway through an absent-minded dream
The branch beneath her snapped and she descended,
Then plunged into the unforgiving stream.

The air possessed an atmosphere forbidden
And as her final moments played out there
A thing of beauty stayed forever hidden;
The way the ripples combed her flowing hair.

The flowers she'd collected for their colour
Remained within her grasp despite the cold,
She faded as the afternoon grew duller
But still the pretty bouquet did she hold.

No elegy or final tributes were made,
No soul would ever witness what occurred,
She drifted with the aura of a mermaid
And sank into the depths where nothing stirred.


http://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/...ophelia-n01506

Thank you very much


(pardon me butting in) Ironically, I had the song 'Waterloo Sunset' stuck in my head just the other day. I've been getting quite a few seemingly random 'earworms' lately. The day before it was 'Que Sera Sera'(!).

What lies ahead,
after the cold, bitter winter?.

Am I right to believe;
there will always be,
a spring on the other side?.

How fleeting a reprieve can be,
yet a lifeline it is indeed,
for season follows season,
hand in hand,
from one year to the next -
so will it be,
always the same for me?.

Happiness enforced,
sadness, worry, fear; ebbed away,
positivity bravely fighting;
on my behalf and yours -
the battle can be won,
no matter how severe the frostbite,
you can thaw,
we will stand firm,
until we're embraced
by the suns healing hands.