Witches’ Boon

You have stroked my fire
Invoked is my desire
I wish to taste your honeyed lips
Summoned by your swaying hips
I wish to consume your flesh so soft
Tightly grip your hips aloft
To lick your salted skin
Every inch and within
To eat the nectar of your flower
Swollen and ripe from my power
The shadows are deep this night
It is true, sometimes I bite
To taste your blood
To offer my love
To hold you down and take your hair
Look into your eyes so bare
I want to feel you wild and free
Only for me to see
Feel the pressure and rhythmic force
Allow the tides to run their course
Howling as she wolf of night
Below silver moon shining bright
Let your river run so free
No dam can hold back thee
Relax and moan
Sowed spirit flown
Pour forth your essence
Bare is your presence
This night I bind you to my will
Of your nectar I take my fill
Quiver and shake
Ecstasy for such sake
Take my power deep inside
Consumed within you is my pride
This night under blessed full moon
This night of the witch’s boon

Isobel The Fair

Isobel, fair Isobel, my poor dear fair Isobel
The time you lived in was their make believe hell
A prisoner in an age of despair
Beauty was yours with long crimson hair
Creative mind with spirit so free
Body chained to a time, chained to tyranny
Forced husband a bore, strictly and lame
You desired more and joined the witches’ game
You can not be blamed for breaking the cage
I could never imagine living in that dark deathly age
Laws built of brimstone, fire and terror
Men living this way was the greatest of error
Run Isobel run, run far away
Come to the forest, join us in the witches’ way
They blame you for passion of artist disguised
Run far away, away from cursed eyes
They blame your frolic and your care free play
Let the tyrants be tyrants, come join the witches’ way
They blame you for wanting and for your natural lust
An enslaved beautiful woman, they held themselves in disgust
If you lived today, you would have the freedom of way
A painter a poet, a witch who loves play
I mourn your lovely spirit, heart broken, a slave
If you had rights, what might you have gave
They twisted your words and cursed you in book
Did you escape the fools wrath with your bewitching look
Run Isobel run, fly far far away
Fly to us this day, to join in the witches’ play