PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Held in thy vigil coven,
woven by cold hands;
you hang your putrid colors.
You concoct your errant miseries
with those fools you've fooled to pit.
Spells and petty tricks of mind
in tandem with your hellish brews,
make bed the best of man with
hell to gain and land to lose.
Wives made dowry through exchange
into hives carved in blue mound
are rarely seen nor heard again,
until the newest coven's found.
Bound by thy tongue and smite,
burnt of soul and presence;
the women fall to sword,
just as you will, in due time.