DW ( / Covington Kentucky)

Witchy Woman

Lost in the bayou!
It was funny at first
To an adventure lovin’ youngen
This wouldn’t be the worst

Just a night in the swamp
In a little flat-bottomed boat
Enough water for one night
a piece of jerky in a paper poke

Awakenin’ from a sleep
He hadn’t known he’d even fallen into
the full moonglow diffused softly
By the Spanish moss that it shone through

Waterbugs skitterin‘, gators aglidin’
Cajun fiddle playin’ some where out in the night
Katydids singin’, water moccasins slidin’
In the distance, through the swamp mist,
shone a faint ghostly light

Pushin’ one oar, agin’ the marshy bottom
Slowly nearing’ the song and the light
Cautiously polin’ through dark cypress knees
Both cattails and neck hair, erect and upright

Ahead on a hummock
High on poles stood a shack
With a old rotting dock In front
and only misty swamp in the back

By a bonfire in front
Stood a fiery eyed young lady/beauty/woman
Tall, slim, with wild eyes flashin’
Tattered dress torn in provocative places
Enticing the lad in, in uninhibited fashion

The boat seemed to glide toward her of It’s own volition
While the lad stood, oar in hand, as if in a trance
The fiddle music wailed, loud as perdition
And witchy woman started a slow writhing dance
Beckoning and undulating without inhibition

The owl in the cypress
Craned it’s head from side to side
Solemnly Observing the lad all the while
The fiddle music soared to a devilish high
Witchy woman took his hand with a smile

The owl shied away and flew off with a whisper
A raven took flight with a start
The chorus of bullfrogs suddenly came to a halt
The thick silence broken by wild cackling laughter
Witchy woman had taken
another young man’s heart
A little flat bottomed boat found high on a bank
Amid wild orchids and bedecked with Spanish moss
Wasn’t found until many months later
Within it was a poke of jerky and a bottle of water.
Said the sheriff to the family with a great sense of loss
“pears your boy got eat up by a gator

One can hear faint cajun fiddle music
On full moonlit nights
O’er the black waters of the misty bayou
And if you listen through the mist and with all of your might
you just might hear a seductive voice
calling to you

User Rating: 5 / 5 ( 0 votes ) 1

Mary Elizabeth Frye

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

Comments (1)

I wouldn't bother with any further instalments.