stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 14127
    [post_author] => 4
    [post_date] => 2013-10-25 14:34:42
    [post_date_gmt] => 2013-10-25 14:34:42
    [post_content] => Hansel and Gretel
Had starvation in their eyes
Scrawny children wandering about
Darkness suffocating
Alone and lost

I made sure,
As they rested,
That they were safe
And that surprise awaited them
When dawn finally broke.

They stumbled over
Their dreams alive
A gingerbread house
Sugar glazed windows
Candy decorated walls
Their smiles shone,
And I appeared;
Inviting them inside.

Twisted and gnarled was I
Feeding them everything,
Ignoring their painful bruises
And bleeding minds,
Because the past
Slowly resurrected
Before me.

Thankful, simpering, desperate,
Their eyes bleeding tears,
I decided to help,
I was in fact magical
But ever so ignorant.

Didn’t see their anger
Nor their knives
Oblivious to everything

Mixing a healing potion
In my scolding cauldron,
I didn’t see them creep up behind me
And splash!
I was pushed in

Agony tore me apart
Fire burning me to cinders
The last thing I saw
Was four merciless eyes.

Nothing more than a spirit,
I watched myself
Being burnt to ashes
Brushed into a box
And taken away.

My glittering remains
Were handed to their step-mother
And was greeted with
A cold cackle.

Her room is lined with boxes
Boxes of magical ashes.
    [post_title] => Ashes
    [post_excerpt] => 
    [post_status] => publish
    [comment_status] => closed
    [ping_status] => closed
    [post_password] => 
    [post_name] => ashes
    [to_ping] => 
    [pinged] => 
    [post_modified] => 2015-11-26 13:59:54
    [post_modified_gmt] => 2015-11-26 13:59:54
    [post_content_filtered] => 
    [post_parent] => 0
    [guid] => http://poems.poetrysociety.org.uk/?post_type=poems&p=14127
    [menu_order] => 0
    [post_type] => poems
    [post_mime_type] => 
    [comment_count] => 0
    [filter] => raw
    [meta_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [wpcf-published-in] => 
            [wpcf-date-published] => 2013
            [wpcf-summary-description] => Charlotte said: I really liked how this poem engaged with the challenge – the idea of telling the Hansel and Gretel story from the perspective of the witch is a particularly interesting way to approach it. I was impressed by the use of language and the idea of twisting the ‘good’ and ‘wicked’ characters around by having the witch trying to help the children, and the ‘merciless’ children deliberately destroying her – the slow revelation of this as the poem goes on was really effective. A very good poem, made all the more impressive by having been written by such a young poet.
            [wpcf-rights-information] => 
            [wpcf-poem-award] => Winner, Performance poem challenge 2013
            [wpcf_pr_belongs] => 
        )

    [poet_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [ID] => 13690
            [forename] => Louise
            [surname] => Watson
            [title] => Louise Watson
            [slug] => louise-watson
            [content] => Louise Watson is a winner of the Young Poets Network 'Shakespeare's shoes' and 'Put a mask on' challenge.
        )

)
stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 13690
    [forename] => Louise
    [surname] => Watson
    [title] => Louise Watson
    [slug] => louise-watson
    [content] => Louise Watson is a winner of the Young Poets Network 'Shakespeare's shoes' and 'Put a mask on' challenge.
)

Ashes

Louise Watson

Hansel and Gretel
Had starvation in their eyes
Scrawny children wandering about
Darkness suffocating
Alone and lost

I made sure,
As they rested,
That they were safe
And that surprise awaited them
When dawn finally broke.

They stumbled over
Their dreams alive
A gingerbread house
Sugar glazed windows
Candy decorated walls
Their smiles shone,
And I appeared;
Inviting them inside.

Twisted and gnarled was I
Feeding them everything,
Ignoring their painful bruises
And bleeding minds,
Because the past
Slowly resurrected
Before me.

Thankful, simpering, desperate,
Their eyes bleeding tears,
I decided to help,
I was in fact magical
But ever so ignorant.

Didn’t see their anger
Nor their knives
Oblivious to everything

Mixing a healing potion
In my scolding cauldron,
I didn’t see them creep up behind me
And splash!
I was pushed in

Agony tore me apart
Fire burning me to cinders
The last thing I saw
Was four merciless eyes.

Nothing more than a spirit,
I watched myself
Being burnt to ashes
Brushed into a box
And taken away.

My glittering remains
Were handed to their step-mother
And was greeted with
A cold cackle.

Her room is lined with boxes
Boxes of magical ashes.