Dear Woman Next Door
Inspired by today’s poems on perspectives and potions
We knew you were a witch
But we was young
And sure of everything
We saw you in the shops
Hair disguised as a taut bun
Churchlike green-patterned dress
You didn’t fool us
A dark cape and wildness
Waited at home for your return
You kept a dog named Merlin
A cranky brown blob of fluff
That sniffed and waddled the yard
But we had heard about
A black cat’s power
When you swept your porch
We recognized the old straw broom
Had seen you riding it
Shadowed against the moon
We heard you crooning over plants
An herb garden my mother called it
But we understood the spells
Of mugwort and sage
My thoughts bumped into you tonight
As I sat at the table with my tea
Brushing hair grey as ashes
The moon singing outside my window
29 thoughts on "Dear Woman Next Door"
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Stunning combo– confession and homage.
I love the visuals and there’s a touch of the Wizard of Oz. I know Dorothy wore her blue gingham, not a green pattern.
But you got to appreciate how Merlin echoes Toto.
“I already told you. I’m not a witch at all…”
Confession and homage – Love that, Tabitha! Thanks.
“But we was young” is what first makes me question who is being addressed. The last couple of lines confirms it, like Tabitha aptly said–confession and homage.
it was meant to be a letter to the woman who lived next door to me when I was growing up. It was always a dare to peek into her window and catch her in full witch gear, but no one was brave enough!
This poem is like skipping a stone across the river, watching the ripples fan out. A story with many places, at once mysterious and familiar, ethereal and tangible.
Thanks, Lee! Even your responses are lyrical!
Oh, that last line!!! I appreciate the whole poem, but oh, that last line!
Thanks so much, E.E.! I always enjoy your comments.
Oh my goodness I love this so much!
Thanks! Like I said, you started it with your tea potions.
Striking poem, a bit mysterious as befits the topic. Whiffs of old Salem and of ashes…
Thanks, Kevin! Whiffs of old Salem indeed!
What a beautiful piece. Like E.E. said, “that last line!” Couldn’t agree more.
Thanks for reading and commenting! I tried to find your poem today but missed it. Will keep looking!
Of course! I love your writing, Sylvia! Oh, bummer that you can’t find mine. Maybe if you click on my hyperlinked name you can find it. Today’s write is called “Lullaby”.
This is a winner, Sylvia! It took me back to a house we thought was haunted in our childhood. The descriptions are scrumptious!
Nancy, thank you! Was there always one of those in every neighborhood? We also had a crazy old man who would try to hug you if you got close.
i was going to pick out a particular image or stanza to compliment, but i just like the whole thing. great poem!
Thanks so much, Kris. I might have to borrow some grains from your sandbox for tomorrow.
Your poem is thought-provoking. Thanks for sharing.
This was one of my absolute favorites to read today! Thank you for the magical witchy vibes ✨ 💜
Sylvia, my fandom is still in full effect! Isn’t it funny to think how we perceived our elders/how our imaginations worked overtime … and to wonder how we must be perceived? Crone-dom is grand, ain’t it?
I love how sharply the tone and image landscape of the poem changes with the last stanza–as the time changes.
Love the turn at the end
So good
Brings back memories of Miss Hashen who lived behind us
Strong landing to this incredible poem:
Brushing hair grey as ashes
The moon singing outside my window
I once had a black cat and lived on 13th street. I’m sure there were rumors about me in my neighborhood, too! Love this poem, Sylvia. Echoing what others have said: Youth, now old, confesses. (There’s a witch within us all.)
Those last two lines are cinematic in the best way but I also like the description of the dog. Great work!
Your old neighbor sounds like one of mine when I was about 4. My older sister used to scare me to death about her. Creepy. Yes, and I’m brushing a lot of ashy white hair myself. Lots to enjoy in this poem of yours.