Imprecation Of The Curse Poem by Tony Avila Sampson

Woe-be-goneness, come about,
Little girls’ face soon to pout;
Bats go whoosh through the air,
Flying low to steal some hair;
Wilting souls be not aware,
When frightful laughter comes to scare;
Low drifting fog is creeping now in,
Better not hide in the witches’ den;
Dangling three rats with a firm grip,
Into the bubbling pot, soon to slip;
Blistered lips in creepage motion,
Whisper words of an imprecatory notion,
Imprecation to a frightful scare,
Brings terror in a dark nightmare,
Witches’ brew has boiling bubbles,
When each burst will bring big troubles,
Witches’ laughter now whoop la bold,
Scary curse upon you unfold......