Image for the poem  Old Mother Hubbard (The Witch Who Lived In My Shoe)

Old Mother Hubbard (The Witch Who Lived In My Shoe)

There once was an old witch who live far away in an enchanted land
She had so many children vying for her hand
One day she pondered what to do to give her mental peace
A plan to give them their wings under the disguise of her reprieve
One by one she gave unto herself different names
The masking of herself to disguise the dishonor of her fame
Unto her seeds they will become unto their own glory
Sowing seeds but not of her purgatory    
The glass slipper unto the King or Queen the farce to the naked human eye
Sweet and sexy words moaned under the midnight blue skies
Her sons, and her daughters, interchangeable sexes as one who do not know
But wait, they were all foretold
Never seek or speak of the forbidden tree of life
Guarded by the Feline who has nine lives and will cause us earthly strife
The overseer who sees, knows all
A pass unto us unto the wicked one comes to call
Muttered footsteps we roam  
The placenta never severed from the velvety cushion of our home
In silence she has the seal, now broken, opened, and kissed by Pandora’s box
Each face shall be revealed with words unlocked
But how can this be true, we are one and the same
Surely, we love all in your name
Does she have the power and is her words true to be believed
Yes, ordained and proven to be a fact to blind hearts to conceive
Where minds will silently question, and eyes will come to perceive
I have been hiding while riding my broom
Different dialects to impress the grooms
Bringing upon my head my own brooding doom
Go in peace my children, you are of me, but be wise
There are vultures who know of my falsehood with arrows aimed at our backs from the skies
We will defend our ruse as we continue to poetically fool  
Enticing and alluring with the many faces of our words
But mother, I am the one who has to act the man surely can I still mislead the Hummingbird
Time is like sand that flows like faith and found in its rebirth
Karma is far words than death it is the sorrows of a diabolical curse
You are of me, and I am Mother Hubbard, concealed in my ultimate sin
Allow my pleasure to be your guide as my many faces shall pull them all in
And these are their stories….

Written by SweetKittyCat5
Author's Note
An introduction to my dark nursery rhymes... a precursor to Halloween... enjoy

All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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