Old Gooseberry Fool.

Night black as Jack gentleman’s rather fine Waistcoat

a tempting invite from Gooseberry fool,

old Harry old Nick old Horney the goat host

tempt scratch invitation arch wicked his call.

On all Hallows eve turn widdershins thrice

in a circle of Wormwood dark candle flame bright 

with a drop of my blood on a thorn of black rose

for the realm of lost Pluto does beckon me so.

Yet I am no Orpheus though similar my plight

to bring back my love to the dawning sun light

yet Jack hat the tricksters the better of me

now I am the fool and the old Gooseberry.



  1. Woven said,

    October 25, 2007 at 3:46 pm

    fine poem.

  2. transwriter said,

    November 3, 2007 at 12:13 am

    Love your style.

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