A Witch

[billy]

first off, i think it worthy of being in serious.

2nd, on reading the first stanza felt a little wordy [just a little] not sure the last two lines work, okay i am sure; for me they don't work they hinder. the storm reads as though it's been and gone yet in the couplet it only just rises up. it's to much of stretch. for me the poem ends with colder; let the reader imagine. words with a strike through are unnecessary [only suggestions, ]  you have some good metaphor and alliteration.
i get the feel of the witch though i'm not sure i equate the storm with cold perhaps something else instead of cold to show the connection.

some of the images are crisp and original. the main think that does jar, are the caps that start each line. sometimes they work, sometimes they don't

There's a hill bowed alone under clouds, i'd suggest a comma after [bowed] a good strong line to begin the poem with
Woven with roots and the long hair
of wild grasses, wildflowers and forget-me-nots. i like the alliterative W's
Come night, she arrived with bare feet
To tip-toe a slow, wandering path,
Until she reached the peak. feels a little weak
Then she drew back her shoulders, and sighed,
Hard. So the breath left her lungs like an animal
From a dirty cage, [and] the hill wore the sky
As a big cape,
And it began to cry cried for her.

So the clouds took her poetry
and hurried to replace it with grey fog.
Next, their rumbling stole her hunger,
Reaping first her belly then her heart.
Starry black fists digested it as it climbed,
They packed it into the air, so it became the  [as] thunder.

Like this her life’s crack-bam and zitz-zic-schrak,
Cut open the night as great blades of lightening,
And spilt into a Storm like boiling car-oil. comma splits the simile
At each [a] shot of the starter-pistol
Races began between frights of tearing wind
Which rode as horses across the flashing night.
A mania like rapture stirred the sky mania and rapture feel contradictory.
Into a battlefield, a playground, a murderer. i do so like this line this line give the storm menace, i would suggest playground of murder

So the Eye dropped to her knees soundlessly, what eye. the eye of the storm?
Her blue lips flat-lining, her lids half-closed. another solid image. i can see the pressure on the lips
She pressed the length of her body,
Still and white to the waves of sodden ground.
And though a storm will only last so long,
Time passed, and she grew colder. this for me is where the poem is best ended.

And as the storm rose up
she started to die.