The Witch 

Ivy was poisonous. 

Her ethereal beauty shone like the rays of sun. 

Ivy’s hair, people cannot bare. 

Her hair swished in the Zephyr. 

The woodnote soared through the sky with fury  

While showing off her beauty. 

Her hair was like heather. 

The witch sirenized the little children: 

She muttered and cast a spell upon them 

Chimerical children in the playground – so happy, so excited 

An undoable spell with immense chaos 

And the once precious daffodils started to waver. 

A chimerical night in London 

Canticles flooded my ears with joy 

The pristine mountain and the rippling lake 

The everlasting fields of heather 

The clouds in the cerulean sky sailed across the sky with joy 

As the wind blew the feathery fern, 

The ancient fern that would never burn, 

A tiny scintilla of light appeared and disappeared. 

The kingfisher swept across the shimmering sea 

And soared through the sky like an Olympic swimmer gliding through the water 

The daffodil scent filled the air like the eloquent words of the poem I last read 

I slowly fall into a reverie, not knowing what lies ahead. 

No spell shall conquer the curse 

The resplendent beam of his smile left me in awe. 

I saw, just then, a spell book on the floor. 

Lying on the bed, feeling the gentle Zephyr 

A reverie crossed my mind as silent aches prodded my soul. 

I watched, from my ethereal throne, 

The heathers placed in delicate leather bags; 

A sea of daffodils, swaying in the field; 

The eagle soaring through the sky, its feathers as soft as ferns - 

I was in his trap and in his enchantment, I fell. 

[No title] 

The world is truly confusing – and the confusion is like a spell 

I do not know how to spell but I know how to smell 

You smell ambrosial, I am tempted 

You belight me, you surprise me, you make me glow with pride.