The Kitten and the Witch
a fable for Halloween
The casement windows
fitted with lead
meant to keep evil out
kept it in instead
the rowan tree with berry red
died by the door,
then all was dead
save the witch and the kitten Mandragore
His jade green glance
saw through the floor
where the dead were put
that came before
His bright black paw was
soft and sure
as he paced the pentagram back and fore
The witch was caught
with ashen mouth
frozen in limb
and deep in doubt
but Mandragore
danced the charm full out.
The runes shimmered on the floor
No demon came but a child was born
where the dead held sway.
The witch jumped up
and fought that day
until the shadows were no more,
and now they play
by the open door,
the witch, the boy and Mandragore.
October 2011
at Oran's Well
Header image: courtesy google image search
Footer image: Witch and kitten, 1988 (c) joy ann jones
Awesome poem, Joy. Though it's a good thing I'm not a warlock. My poor pretty princess of a cat would have no idea on how to finish the ritual :)
ReplyDeleteGreat poem for Halloween.
Thanks skav. I don't know, Buttercup is pretty into the whole possessed thing when she wants to be, from what I've heard. ;-)She may know more than you think.
ReplyDeleteVery cool story! I wonder if my kitty knows any magic...
ReplyDeletesmiles. a delight ful and uplifting little tale on the making of a family...i like that now they play bringing to life that which was once dead...my cat approves...smiles.
ReplyDeleteAwww thanks H, greetings from my crew of kitties living and dead to your Mandragore (ne'er a witchier handle for a black cat!) Mephistopheles' familiar was a black poodle, and I don't know when black kitties slid into that Best Black Friend role, but this lil' fable is ghastly sweet. Something about a cat's poise makes them so perfect for walking the ledge between the worlds. My dolphin rider has a cat perched on his shoulder. Thanks for the ooky spooky heartwarm fable. Love the "Witch and Kitten" pic, with all that wilderness behind ... - Brendan
ReplyDeleteOh a playful witch, a boy and a kitten. First poem I've read about an endearing witch. I love it. And your rich verbiage is, as always, such a pleasure to read.
ReplyDeleteLovely Poem... I like the rhythm and rhyme narrative poem...
ReplyDeleteThanks all. This was all Brendan's--or possibly his cats'--fault (or inspiration, whichever way you want to play it.)
ReplyDeleteLOL, almost forgot about the "incidents". Buttercup was a demon in cats clothing there for a bit, but after she was neutered she calmed down tremendously. Poor thing was going crazy because she was almost constantly in heat for months.
ReplyDeleteThere probably is some remnants of that hell on paws in her yet so maybe she could finish the ritual and help fight off the nasties.
Keep up the great poems. I really love this time of year :)
@skav: This is my very favorite time of year, also, holidaywise--re:little Crazycup, can't say I blame her--I'm sure I'd feel about the same myself. Now that I'm neutered, I'm much calmer, too. ;-)
ReplyDeleteYou caught the kitten play most realistically, Joy! Our Clyde (bless its soul) is no more with us now. Been gone a couple of years already. But we could remember the happy moments we shared in its presence for many years before.
ReplyDeleteHank
Sif, with her hair of gold, would certainly approve of this, and of the rowan tree in particular. I afgree that the cat's name is ideal, though I have no idea if it has special meaning. It just sounds right!
ReplyDeleteThe lead windows, the dead from before, and the transformative dance---what a delight this all is, and of course, it is all cloaked in Witchy ambience.
Just one thing...Mr. Brendan is not the only bloggy poet who references cats, you know! ;-)
@FB: I was going to name him Goo Goo Barabajagel, but it's so hard to rhyme. And of course, you are the undisputed mistress of the cats, particularly the shapeshifting variety.
ReplyDeleteLoved the story and the write but it just is further proof that cat people are just not right in the head. Course no dog coulda danced that dance for they are to dense to dance.
ReplyDelete@twm: My dogs can dance pretty good when they see anything edible in my hand, though.
ReplyDeleteThis is so sweet. Everything about it. I prefer animals to people anyway. Thanks for your thoughtful comment upon my "old guy" poem. i have long believed, felt, thought ... whatever works; that we start out as soul and as we grow flesh etc we become human ... we pop out and are still very close to our original state. The further we grow from that state and develop we become less selfish (I hope), reach out to others, become adult, give our gifts to the world, cells always regenerating. Then we begin the decline. Our cells begin to die ... more die that regenerate and we start moving closer to soul again. We go backwards and that does take us through the childhood innocence. In the west, "death" is "bad" to be feared, held at bay and God/dess help us if we show any signs of aging. Those who work long and hard to put off aging gain no wisdom and have nothing to leave behind. Hegwitch you have beautiful blog.
ReplyDeletewhat a lot of fun this is. you use some iconic images in your own, unique style. terrific prose and story.
ReplyDelete