100 Theme Challenge: Spell


I do not know.  I … uh … it’s been a while since I wrote poetry, and even longer since I posted it.  I swore, however, that I’d post all of my attempts at my 100 Theme Challenge so here’s my latest. I have done minimal editing, though I may attack it later. Thoughts and critiques are, as always, welcome.

Sometimes I ponder,
she said,
To a place far
my thoughts wander,
she breathed,
to a question
What is it that makes a spell?

Its tiny, torn paper
tea dyed by age;
a carefully chosen rhyme
scrawled across the page;
the hint of intent
be it good, bad, or neutral;
the elements invoked;
belief in the ritual…

Sharp eyes
hidden in folds
spot schemes
escape, run, go;

I can’t but sway
hope drips away.

She continues.
I must listen.

It is unknown
these thoughts
of mine
carelessly thrown
at a mystery;
a rhyme
may always be sewn
into an enigma.

And, yet,
still I wonder:
can I
make the effects linger,
or like
the torn paper
am I
doomed to failure?

The spell
a rhyme,
the enigma
your time.

Sit down for a spell,
and listen
to the rhyming old croon;
as she tells her tail
your years
will fall away
like a reptile’s
discarded
rotting
skin.

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