A midwife proficient in herbs,
came under suspicion
in the Burning Times.
Tortured, tried, convicted,
condemned to the stake
dragged to it screaming.
Heartless uncaring tormentors
bound her to the stake laughing.
Her sobbing and tears
drowned out by
the clamor
of the rabid crowd
joyously awaiting
the day’s entertainment,
shouting in unison,
Burn the witch!
Burn the witch!
The stake lit,
her screams above the flames
the crackling, devouring fire
silencing her wailing screams.
When her life burned out,
in the malevolent blaze,
in the foul smelling
dark, smoke filled air,
her soul found release in heaven.
When her tormentors died,
they burned in hell.
Bob Boyd
Author: BobBoyd
79, cancer survivor, work out 3 times a week, ride my exercise bike 2 hours daily. Began writing poetry October 2023, living in Greensboro, North Carolina, originally from just outside of Boston, MA.
Retired and enjoying a solo, reclusive life always researching and gaining knowledge. Most of my poems are fictional.
I write about many things: Spirituality, Mysticism, the Paranormal, Cryptids, Werewolves, Ghosts, 411s, Nature, Birds, Animals, Romantic Love, Death, NDEs, Women Persecuted as Witches, Fictional Characters I Create, News Stories, AI, Robots, Insects, like the poem entitled, Hail Caesar Bob, (about when bees were swarming me outside the door to my apartment), and many other topics. I write a minimum of 3 poems daily, sometimes more. I like and abide by the saying life's too short to be taken too seriously.
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