She was neck deep in the cauldron
when steam started to rise
her sister witches began to screech
and fear for her demise
but she waved them off abruptly
and demanded to be left alone
to stew in a magical concoction,
a recipe of her own
for when her cauldron bubbles,
ideas and thoughts come alive
she scoops them up, drinks them down,
and then begins to scribe
and although it’s ancient lore,
that many have yet to grasp
one must allow ideas to simmer
before pouring them in a flask
patience, she declares,
is the magic of her brew
but such a virtue is rare,
a quality possessed by few
so once again she simmers,
letting the heat rise in her eyes
conjuring her magic
awaiting the cauldron’s surprise
I am going to LOVE this month reading these frightfully fun poems!!
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Love it!!
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Excellent poem, Sue. I loved the topic, the smooth metrics, and the balanced rhymes. Well done!
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Thanks so much, Bill😊
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Very descriptive and well written Sue…I can see the steam rising! 🙂
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Thanks so much, Ally😊 Still working on the “patience” part😜
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I think we all are Sue! 😉
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Simply enchanting!
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Thanks, Joey😊
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Love this stanza: “and although it’s ancient lore,
that many have yet to grasp
one must allow ideas to simmer
before pouring them in a flask”
Yes, yes, I say!
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Thanks, Ally😊
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So well done, Sue! I always smile when reading your poetry somehow. 🌹
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awwh-well done!
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Loved it:)
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