The full moon rises, giving light to the shrouded figures sitting motionless deep within the woods
The Circle begins to stir
Strange chants in the dead of night give way as the Black Angel rises from her sacred grave
The Circle entwined, taking power from her inner being
A virgin is sacrificed
Or would have been
For this is Britain today
Where virgins just don’t grow on trees, woods or no woods
Totally disgusted with the lack of morals in Britain
She ups sticks
Directed by a powerful red light
She heads off to Amsterdam.
-
Author:
Paul Bell (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 6th, 2026 09:41
- Category: Gothic
- Views: 16
- Users favorite of this poem: Teddy.15, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments5
Starts so serious then the punch. I wonder if there are more virgins in Amsterdam. A fun read Paul
I very much doubt it.
So be it.
So she's a Dutch pancake? 🤣 This is hilarious, I do believe that COVID helped the slump. 🌹
Can't beat a Dutch pancake.
Paul, I should have known you weren’t going to let that sinister opening behave itself for long. 😂 The Black Angel storming off in disgust finished me. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
You know a country is going downhill when even the witches are flying off to pastures new.
Hello, Paul,
Is Britian that bad, that virgins are fleeing to the brothels of Europe. You really got me with this one, the opening half being so dark and then; what the hell is going on here. I wonder has Brexit got anything to with the flight of the virgins. Well done indeed.
Fond regards,
Tony.
Was a bit tongue and cheek. Brexit saved us from Europe, now they're getting us back by dumping migrants on us. lol
this is very good!
You need a laugh now and again.
lol hahahahahaahh u are right
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.