Long Magic trick Poems
Long Magic trick Poems. Below are the most popular long Magic trick by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Magic trick poems by poem length and keyword.
One of our favorite Christmas traditions in our home…our habitat..
is to write everyone’s name on a separate sheet of paper and throw them in a hat.
On Thanksgiving the hat is shaken then passed around to everyone on the floor…
who pick the name of the person they’ll be buying a present for.
It’s a wonderful tradition born out of the desire to teach the meaning of giving
and the need for thrift…
as everyone only buys one present and everyone receives only one gift.
I’ve been known in my family to do a little magic and some pranks…this is true…
and this story is about the one Christmas I deftly combined the two.
Since it’s supposed to be a secret…the name you are assigned…
in the hat we passed around one Thanksgiving all the names inside it…were mine!
You see I was in charge of writing the names and passing the hat around too…
which made this prank and unexpected magic trick easy for me to do.
The hat was passed…the names were picked…my plan was working beautifully…
each family member opened their paper, read the name…and secretly smiled at me.
I would have eventually told the truth that night…at least that’s the story I like to tell…
but I never got the chance because it seems the members of my family can’t keep a secret very well.
I wasn’t there to hear their conversations…which, in retrospect, I am glad…
when Deborah found out she had me…
and all our children.. found out that they had Dad.
I had another hat ready…which, of course, we passed around then…
and I smiled wondering if my children…would ever trust me again…
Yesterday as is our tradition we passed the hat…
it went smoothly…as it always does
And I smiled…as I always do…
thinking about….
the Christmas that almost was.
I heard that line and presto!
It was 1962.
This band was great, but who they were,
I didn’t have a clue.
My room was painted pink;
My AM radio was on.
Before I got the lyrics down,
The song had come and gone.
But soon enough those pale pink walls
Were filled with Beatle faces.
I close my eyes and conjure up
Those pictures in their places.
What happened to that fresh-faced girl
Whose future lay ahead?
A song can bring me back to her,
Connected by a thread.
Some melodies are magical,
Transporting us, so fast,
To the time those tunes were new,
A moment never meant to last.
And hearing such a song we fall
Enchanted, back to when
We didn’t know we’d never be
That younger self again.
“I saw her standing there” for me
Performed its magic trick.
I see myself at twelve but wonder
Just what made me tick.
you appear here rhyming beard and weird
eating oatmeal acting fierce
here's your limelight here's your career
here's a spliff and here's a beer
and a magic trick where you disappear
a rapping disaster passed a chance
to topple the master and steal the stance
six years of ideas captured in write
yet rhymes don't appear and it's childlike
syllable rhymes which aren't true but more near
A's rhymed with E's insulting the ear
and from a poetic perspective it's awfully clear
your brain's only human when the pulse disappears
flatlining blind at the peak of it's climb
declining back down yet on the same line
Show me a miracle
Or
Magic trick
And all i can think is how was it done
That is the level of sceptic i have become
With every believer comes a sceptic
Enter front and left Captain Sceptic
Sporting miracle,
Betting scandal
Predict the future,
Calculate the odds algorithm
Magic trick,
Smoke and mirrors slight of hand
If it's to good to be true it generally is
And there is no such thing in life
that's free
That doesn't come with strings attached
The greatest piece of single advice
a burns survivor ever imparts is
Read the small print fastidiously
before signing
Otherwise you are going to need the
services of a very good lawyer
Back in the day, Dad went through a crazy magic trick phase.
Specializing predominantly in sleight-of-hand card tricks.
He'd stop us kids and our friends right in our tracks.
Just to show us an ace disappearing into his hand.
Or a dozen ways a deck of cards could be stacked.
He got somewhat proficient, then never really progressed.
His shortcoming was that he had these rough little turtle hands.
More geared toward painting, pounding nails, and keeping loves fed.
They sported clusters of callouses and lacked any hint of finesse.
He'd attempt to control those pesky jokers and slippery jacks.
But you'd see them through the gaps in those twitchy terrapin hands.
To go with the flow and not spoil the great magician's show.
We'd pretend that we hadn't seen the many fumbles and gaffes.
All the queens' men peeking out from those rough turtle hands.
He's an old magician now and hasn't put on a show for years.
His loyal following passing on or disappearing into life's deck.
Or hitting the road to put on magic shows of their own.
Specializing in juggling mortgage and those devilish taxes.
I miss the slight smile on that young magician's face.
When, on the rare occasion, the deuces, jokers, and aces
would be operating in complete and total cooperation.
Most of all, I miss that he'd felt the need to pretend
that he hadn't noticed that we'd been pretending.
Sitting on a porch between two flags
I watch a man ride by on a bike,
a box of magic tied to his back.
Should I stop and ask him about it, Dad?
Should I ask God how you are getting along
in heaven without a bicycle? Without me?
Last night I forgot how it was --
the shape of your face, the slant of your nose,
the way you would laugh in the back
of your throat. You had laughed as you agreed
that my observation of rug makers, or scrub jays,
or magic trick artists was from a different
perspective that yours, one you had not
thought of before.
But now, I cannot recall what your perspective
was, as I balance grief and sanity in my old age.
I've forgotten so much since your absence,
so much of what we shared our many years.
But one thing I do recall, as I was only eight.
You said that you believed in a parallel
universe and asked if I could believe it, too.
The sun was warm on my shoulders
as we stood in our small dirt yard.
Before remotes, we changed the channels
Right on the TV.
We got up from the couch to learn
What there was there to see.
When things got modern, we could sit
And use the new remote
To flip from show to show, deciding
Which would get our vote.
But now, we have remotes galore
And I can never tell
Which one to use and so I fiddle
‘Round for quite a spell.
My husband knows the magic trick
To find just what I need.
As long as he’s around
I’ll watch my program, guaranteed.
But at my son’s house, bets are off.
It really gets my goat
That to watch the U.S. Open,
Chances really are remote.
Those trademark circular elements of style in vogue every four years
When the crème de la crème of the athleticism
presents itself on the world stage
Suspending and transcending any present day internecine conflict
Allowing, enabling, and proffering the five continents
And gathering of top-notch mental, physical and spiritual prowess
Extant with adroit prolific curved arabesques on one corner of the globe
That (like Noah with his Ark kit) human techno wizardry
Bedazzles viewers charting unparalleled feats
Whereby the human body defies the laws of physics and challenges gravity
Fielding a hypnotic colorful tapestry
Whereby the woof and warp of any melancholy moody blue, mellow yellow
Gunmetal green, roman a clef real time red doth white out
The dark knight, temporarily sequestered in a bishopric
Of faux queenly royalty, where a pawn
out the parapet of her castle keep
She imbibes requiem toward protesting the limits of *****sapiens
Inherent parameters, where fluid dynamics
of each most supreme contestant
Sans his/her specialized arena
Further the prior leg holds with free from arm-twisting head lock
And make a mockery of invisible manacles
Purportedly and formerly believed to tether man/woman kind
With unbreakable hidebound genetic/ chromosomal restraints
But nay to those who professed impossibility against the reins
Boxed and fenced in by bow rings set by Mother Nature
Well nigh obsolete and superfluous
What with evident burlesque stellar performances
Leaving the spectators starry eyed with collective mouths agape
As polished prominent performers blithely offset previous milestone
Setting a new yardstick to measure the Olympian capacity
That Heracles and Zeus would most likely deem
as some sort of magic trick
Yet lo, the sensational and majestic pageantry absolutely serious
Lying to rest what used to be merely amateur games
Whereby most any novice could coax a charade, façade, travesty et cetera
Without fear of getting flagged, but phenomenal exhibitors of today
Can nearly bank on netting a truckload of worldly wide wealth
Whereby a hand-made Scottish tartan Harris Tweed welcome mat
Ushers August men and exuding mettle and iron clad dedication
With pomp and circumstance into pantheon of future legends!
Form:
Movement pivots lid lifted, Pandora astonishes
Actions perpetual pirouette dancer acknowledges
Glamour glues sockets smooth, figurine believed
Image incorporates graceful, a fighter bereaved
Curtsey in zenity as her stage lazy susan circulates
Tulle tickled hips scissor, treasures sage congregate
Rules spurred by war spring away from delicate damsel
Intimate fleshpink stretch legs enter audition to dazzle
Craft to elicit captivation tunes ballerina's true energy
Kills a brash sword brandishing cavalier, buried enemy
Entertaining Eighteenth of January
MAGIC TRICK
Childhood Friends (Boys)
Fishing lines and fishing poles
sinkers, hooks and bobbers.
Maybe someday we will go
when we're not playing cops and robbers.
Cowboy hats and balls and bats
my horse an old broom stick.
Can you see? Come look at me!
I learned a magic trick.
Spit balls shot but I got caught
Tommy points and grins.
You did it too I could tell on you.
I miss my childhood friends.
Make no mistakes we're catching snakes
to play with in the yard.
I didn't cry it ain't no lie
when I got spanked real hard.
Racing trains and playing games
this ain't no place for girls.
Summer sun and carnival fun
we wanna ride the Tilt-a-Whirls.
Our first late night but we're alright
see how the scary movie ends.
Creepy crawlers crept our secrets kept
I miss my childhood friends.
Edwin C Hofert