Best Necromancy Poems


Premium Member Sputnik and the Moon

You found me in a shadow,
By chance alone, and still.
Within a hole I came to know:
A burden; can't fulfill.

Buried nether stories,
I've welded to my spine:
Biopolitic territories,
Ancient ruins, un-divine.

I floated in that shadow,
Embracing darkness wet.
Drenching moisture—catacomb—
Until endured my Privyet.

Flickered 'hind the window glass,
Your eyes puckered in the lime,
To return and pass, iconic sass,
Greet, regurgitate its rhyme.

You saw me saunter by.
A passing pigeon cull,
Lulling dull, unknown to why,
My eyes, by yours, still pull.

A less than pass for fancy:
American tell-tale trope.
Annotations, future necromancy,
Proof for school: A dope.

Until I knew I wasn't still.
Like you, a passerby.
You—the moon—light could spill,
On I, an unused satellite. 

We're meant for darkness,
Designed in light,
To be without its touch.
In spite of sight that drives our might,
Yet without you, I don't see much.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Enticing Twilight

Written: October 10, 2023   
Night Bewitches                                 Sponsored by: Shadow Hamilton
A dream is a microscope through which we look at the hidden occurrences in our souls. Erich Fromm
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

In the placidity of the night's embrace,
bewitched the cosmos with an arcane grace.
The moon, a silver orb, may induce its rise.
Oozing its ethereal aurora over the skies 

Whispers of worm words waft on wafture wear,
As the stars spangle, their nexus is spare.
The night wiles with its vestigial spell,
Drawing us in, under a talisman dwell.

Penumbras plaster pegs poltergeists of trees,
The twilight augury decry casts souls at ease.
Geezers of nightgown awaken from slumber,
Suing solace in the Cimmerian shade to clamber
 
The eventide sky overawes with a cosmic array.
Stars bedazzle and coxswain us on our way.
Moonlight sumptuous aura in a gentle glow,
Steer us through the shadow as the nexus flows.

Ebony necromancy decry a glamorous sight.
Drawing us close to the serendipity of the night.
In this cosmic wee hour, dreams bear flight.
Our souls are raised, and our hearts blight.

So let us indulge in this nocturnal delight,
As dusk vamps, squirting a glamor of delight. 
Let us wander in the moonlit haze,
As sableness susurrous surreptitious sprays
  
Wee crepuscule twiddles, a plum night symphony
Where conceit phantasm and verity shed sympathy
Allotting an awareness acumen ariose and aureate
Upon ubiquitous utters uncanny unsophisticate.
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Grand Finale

5/20/17



Regardless of if I never get to see or reach the grand finale

Doing not too shabby
I may not exactly
Be all that happy
Yet when things turn out badly and sadly
Can't stay feeling crappy

Memory occasionally somewhat foggy and patchy

Not trying to be too wacky
Or flashy

Just want to be more crafty
Handy
And canny

Take care of my granny
And the rest of the family

Stock up the pantry
Pour them some brandy
And buy some domestic and foreign candy

Serve them food first and myself lastly
And appreciate the simple things, not just what is fancy

Near and far from any valley
As well as waters with or without algae

I am not familiar with necromancy
And have no idea if we are related to chimpanzees
Form: Rhyme


Sorceress

Badabee bada boom

Cabaala vroom vroom

Up in the sky

I fly on my broom

Valleys and vales

Over dry hay bales

On wispy clouds

My twitchy broom sails

By the moonlight dim

Those sighting Grimm

I search far and wide

They’re my next victim

Dissecting their hearts

Burying other parts

Potions I make

For my dark arts

Green red golden & blue

Tonics in every hue

Sparks fly while I invent

Myriad concoctions anew

Turning mice to owl

& Hounds to fowl

Transformations galore

All of them in my bowl

Powders that enchant

Varied pills for penchant

Chinkaara hula hoo hoo

Incantations I chant

Yes I am a Sorceress

Conjuring spells and curses

Necromancy, black magic and voodoo

Excel in all, with me don’t mess
© Meghana S  Create an image from this poem.
Form:

Premium Member The Chimera Parody

Written: August 28, 2023
______________________________________________________________

In the realms of novelty and man's intrigue,
A chimera emerged, a contradiction unique.
With the head and breast of a lion's might,
and a serpent's tail that slithers—a fearsome sight.

Oh, how the chimera did pickle the mind,
With its fickle nature, a paradox is unkind.
A parody of existence, a void it did fulfill,
Buzzing with uncertainty, a rush of thrill

In this embodiment of my lifestyle choice,
I sought to unravel the chimera voice.
For within its essence, a secret did hide,
One body, two creatures, a sorcery untied

I turned to chiromancy, reading palms with care.
Seeking answers in the lines of fate laid bare.
But the chimera secrets eluded my touch.
For its destiny was not written in such

I delved into cartomancy, the art of the cards.
Hoping to find answers and break through the guards.
But the chimera destiny remained concealed.
In the deck of cards, the truth was not revealed.

I ventured into the realm of necromancy.
Summoning spirits to unlock the chimera fancy
But the spirits remained silent.
Their insight couldn't pierce the chimera strident.

In Greek mythology, it was said to be a beast.
But this chimera nature remained a feast.
A contradiction of life, a paradox untamed
The chimera parody, forever unclaimed

In the depths of its being, it defied all norms.
A creature of paradox, with its own forms.
A chimera, they called it, a myth brought to life,
A contradiction that challenged the realms of strife.

O, the chimera parody, a puzzle untold,
Its novelty is captivating, a story to behold.
A creature of contradiction, defying all odds,
In the depths of its being—a power that nods

Man's fascination with this enigmatic creature
The chimera legacy is a symbol of nature.
For in its existence, we find ourselves reflected,
In its contradictions, our truths are detected.
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Possums On the Run - Part 1

"Possums on the  Run - Part 1"


Well she ran away
danced the F.U.	 
Revolutionary Dance
Jokers are trumps
Euchre, 500, 
Queens Slippers
no Deuce, no Romance

Holey holy 
blue jeans torn and buried
underneath the house 
with uneaten sandwiches
going mouldy in plastic lunch bags, 
old unwanted items, school books
torn pages, hessian bags, burnt pots, 
newspaper wrappings fading 
tales of the city with 
dreams of necromancy.

She’s upstairs deliberating
sitting at the kitchen table
writing her stories
Over with doing the dishes
done with Rainbow Princesses,
homework squats and 
buried small town garbage runs 
over strawberry jam and creamed up
Sunday Cream Buns.

A good day out
some holiday
collecting cut grass 
she stands watching
red skinned motor mower man
barking orders 
while the other daughters
stand en garde cross-armed
no hat, sun burnt, 
barefeet, blistering in the
boiling Sun.

En Garde, patiently waiting 
watching Frilly Lizard Black Boy 
Kangaroo Paw Hibiscus 
“There’s a tortoise under the 
outside dunny!”
there’s a flaming tortoise
on the run 
slow mode
totally bizarre, 
wonders where
it came from…she thinks,
“run tortoise run”.

She knows better, she’s 17,
she’s the Dancing Queen,
she’s Top Gun.

(Lovejoy-Burton/Jan 2018)


1. .... x
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ZUX3j6WLiQ


Chaos Mind

Centuries of lies, a hollow myth
Perpetuated by charlatans with great ceremony
The Greatest Show, the living bread
The crowd sustained and animated by necromancy
The will is fused, the body dismembered and reassembled
Eager dehumanization, they tread the path
An ancient instinct, hereditary chains
Lift the chalice, a cannibal rite
Commit the body to the fires
They burn all sin to purest white
Like bones they glisten in the sun

The heart is woman, a harlot's course
Chaos bound to ritual law
A book to strangle, the human vine
Withered fruit, none shall eat
A brittle parody of True God's design
The Word of sufferance, spread like plague
Prostrated before your False God
An empty gesture before his impassive gaze
Power channels, below the surface
Christian mind cannot detect
Stabbing empty, fever pitch
Turn the blade, release is now.

Transport Terminals

"Transport Terminals" 

When ghosts find ghosts
they walk through the 
core of each other 
expecting knowledge 
of the other’s being
it’s surprising mirrors
are considered 
transport terminals
eerily reflective
otherworldly portals
between there 
and here
past, present, future
managing the transfer
easily

but it's never 
that easy

when you’re a ghost
blueprints are beggars 
to transparency

fingers slip through 
the heart never seen 
the remand centre 
for processing

other channels are used
necromantic psychography

quills for keys

moonlit silver water 
in a pen, shaken 
sharp fountains for ink
cutting calligraphy for 
phantom tears 
inside the turmoil
of a storm-filled ocean
stirred surface searched
for eidolon's face
reflecting the other 
rising to eat 
each other's worlds
becoming words
the hungry need to be fed
ghost writers scrying
lives away, not near at all
but in front of each other
turning empty cups 
upside down reading
spectral tea leaves
messages invisible 

but it's never 
that easy

fingers slip through 
the heart never seen 

the bare bones 
of it all 
materialise 
skeleton keys
for dancing 
those inside 
the mirror out

locked in the dream
fingers slip through
the heart never seen

messages 
ghost written 
on mirrors

quills for keys

(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)



“The Special Ones”, Katie Noonan – George
https://youtu.be/LupbCITf4tw











Necromantic = Necromancy
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Necromancy

Psychography
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Automatic_writing

Scrying
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scrying

Duality
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dualism_in_cosmology






LYRICS/ "The Special Ones", Katie Noonan - George
https://www.lyricslrc.com/song890471/katie-noonan-special-ones







"Crazy", Katie Noonan (Gnarls Barkley cover) 
https://youtu.be/NZkE9GB7JuU


LYRICS /"Crazy"
https://genius.com/Gnarls-barkley-crazy-lyrics
Form: Narrative

You Can Run But You Can'T Hide From Yourself

Lie low when convenience calls
Stick out your neck at optimum moments
To climb and scale high social walls
As you swerve away from avoidable torments

To shunt aside a servile lifestyle
Predicated on premises so thin
You risk to frisk and whisk green bile
If you hobnob with characters so mean

They drive you into a ditch
Where awash with confusion and indecision
You struggle to make a switch in the stitch
That misses the fabric from which a fusion

Mixes and waxes fact and fiction to forget
Why for a while you chose to lie low  
How you determined it wasn’t worth pursuing the target
You once thought you knew lay in row

Number one at the behest of fairness
Until you perceived much water under the bridge
Had gone by to cede room to meekness
Grown more significant outside the fridge

Where belief in necromancy
Blew a hole in the knowledge base
That inadvertently fed sycophancy
Deemed significant in the case

You strove to consider for possible inclusion in the novel
You contemplated writing
But gave up when it became clear your sleep in a Kafue National Park rondavel
Lit up and rekindled your fighting

Spirit to reject out of hand
The notion that social associations grow cold
When you openly take a stand
Against attitudes that strike the prude as too bold

To contemplate
Too weak to make a lasting impression
Too forward to merit a serving of caviar on a silver plate
And too silly to warrant a mention in a poetry recital session.

The Candidates

They promised us voters
All manner of pleasant solace
As this manifesto witnesses;
And to show our reliance
We implored them to denounce
Older forms of dishonesty
With charity appreciable by view

They and each of them
And all their ilk even
Swore to buy our support
In gross and in detail
And so on and so forth
Mutatis mutandis
Per omnia saecula saeculorum!

But we were lowly natives
And matched with local casuistry
And various verbal falsehoods
What code of necromancy
Would misfortunes foretell!

Nefarious candidates
The time has come:
Purge your consciences!

The Candidates

They promised us 
All manner of pleasant solace
As this manifesto witnesses;
And to show our reliance
We implored them to denounce
Older forms of dishonesty
With charity appreciable by view

They and each of them
And all their ilk
Swore to buy our support
In gross and in detail
And so on and so forth
Mutatis mutandis
Per omnia saecula saeculorum!

But we were lowly natives
And matched with local casuistry
And various verbal falsehoods
What code of necromancy
Would misfortunes foretell!

Nefarious candidates
The time has come:
Purge your consciences!

Baal

How oh Jehovah can they not know
the Woman Harlot of Mystery
to dine with Baal and teachings follow
has been exposed with her history
 
The teachings of pagans do endorse
promulgation of falsehood without remorse
consider not their celebrations source
entice others to follow their course
 
The incantation of the winged ones spoken
and soothsayers their fortunes do tell
In rites of passage the truth be broken
to absolve your sins priest craft bespell
 
They use ceremony in feigned ritual
they revile God and shake their chains
and demon poisoned is their victual
what is left is death in human remains
 
They claim with God to fellowship
necromancy and sorcery upon their lip
but what is taught does make man slip
conjuration by demons do augurs equip
 
The readers of omens and seers arts
Babylon the Great Harlot of Mystery
designed to destroy any purity in hearts
blood soaked debauchery is your history
 
Off key they sing a song of deception
to cloud mankind in his perception
artful device with the lies conception
contaminated minds with asps infection
 
To breath his air is foul beyond belief
Jesus who leads the way must you show
must partake the bread of life to get relief
so that the true God you may know
 
Favor is for those who truly seek your face
walk away from shadow into your light
contemn praise from man look only to your grace
desire clarity and vision within true sight
 
To seek your paths do I delight
into the day and splendor of the dawn
to the Laws of Love Jesus taught the right
it is a privilege to sing your song
 
sources Deuteronomy 18:9-12
IIChronicles 33:1-7
Romans 1:20-32 Apocalypse 9:1
chapters 17 and 18 Micah 5:12 Acts 8:9
Acts 16:16 Danial 2:27
 
COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Love's Lost and Found

Strange is this land that I’ve entered,
Yet maybe I’ve been here before,
Magical artist of nightfall
Paints fingers that tap on my door.	

Somehow I feel strangely centered
Both ready for fight or for flight,
Drawn still to vision, sweet landfall,				
No claim I have special insight.

Music of night that I’m hearing
Warns softly of dangers ahead,
Knowing that my heart is waiting
Love sweetly just slips into bed.

Ramifications I’m fearing,
All vanish like dew in this land,
Love’s rose has cousins worth courting
Emotions here are never bland.
 
Dream’s length can never be certain,
Don’t worry there’s never a plan,
Timetable that one must stick to,
And no one to please in your clan.

Catholic guilt’s final curtain,
And Baptist restraint a mere joke,
Mormon pretense a new milieu,
God’s heaven served up to plain folk.

Let’s lift our glass to flight’s fancy
To dreams that will never touch ground,
Dance now and howl like a dervish
And spin like a merry-go-round.

One need not serve necromancy
To value the magic in dreams,
Puritans, no longer slavish,
Rejoice in the breadth of love’s themes.

Brian Johnston
Sept. 10, 2014
Form: Rhyme

Nigeria Had I Own You

My dear fervent land of emulous miserere,
Had I be your creator or swish despot care,
Whose cloat can awe beyond exalted gild,
Then you'll bloom than grass, and wet sild,

River Benue, and Niger can faint thy yearning,
Of your strange dreams, and emulous longing,
You don't need exorcist, necromancy to weal,
Who corollary your fate to end in infernal wail,

That fine green fresh land would be ploughed,
As done in America, and Thailand to end slog,
Even now as then our heart were filled in ideas,
Amidst all our elders that fate bring before us.
Form: Ballad

Premium Member Deep Memory

I once was a beautiful lass
	who captured every young man’s fancy
A nymph of the high Southern class
	who practiced a belle’s necromancy.

They worshipped my haughty fine grace
	they catered to temper and whim
A moment to gaze on my face
	sent rent hearts to pain, prayer, and hymn.

But now I lie cold in my grave
	festered and worm-eaten I be
With neither a knight nor a knave
	to worship or lie beside me.







"Deep Memory" originally appeared in Wilum Pugmire's anthology Visions of Kroy'don (1978) and the same editors ***** Madness (1980). It was collected in The Ghost Garden (Liverpool: Dark Dreams Press, 1988) and in  Sorceries & Sorrows (Early Poems) Polk City, Iowa: Chris Drumm Books, 1992, in a limited edition of 100 copies. It's included in my big forthcoming Hippocampus Press collection The Ghost Garden and Further Spirits.
Form: Rhyme

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