Long Sorcery Poems
Long Sorcery Poems. Below are the most popular long Sorcery by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sorcery poems by poem length and keyword.
If I have uttered blasphemy
That you’re the root of the dark tree
Light and darkness are twins of might
Forgive my sins! Have mercy, Light!
If I blasphemed the shining Son
That death awaits the moon and sun
That they are strangers without might
Forgive my sins! Have mercy, Light!
If my teeth and serpent fingers
Harmed the fivefold god who lingers
Put animals and plants in plight
Forgive my sins! Have mercy, Light!
If I sinned against the elect
Though they’re angels without defect
We opposed their words from the height
Forgive my sins! Have mercy, Light!
If I in any way harmed life
If I put crawling beasts in strife
Put life that swims or flies in plight
Forgive my sins! Have mercy, Light!
If I’ve done tricks and perjury
Harmful gossip and sorcery
Sinned with this self, put life in plight
Forgive my sins! Have mercy, Light!
If I followed a wolf’s teachings
Ignored the wise elect’s preachings
And then worshipped the Prince of Night
Forgive my sins! Have mercy, Light!
If my heart strayed from these four seals
From the four gods as ideals
Love, faith, fear, wisdom shining bright
Forgive my sins! Have mercy, Light!
If I ignored the ten commands
If with my mouth, heart, self, and hands
Fell short due to my flesh in plight
Forgive my sins! Have mercy, Light!
If my soul did not sing in prayer
My prayers did not fly in pure air
The four prayers not said with my might
Forgive my sins! Have mercy, Light!
I fail in giving the elect
Alms for the angels to collect
So the light can’t reach heaven’s height
Forgive my sins! Have mercy, Light!
If I broke the fifty days fast
For my greed and distress amassed
I forgot the law at twilight
Forgive my sins! Have mercy, Light!
If I fail to confess and pray
To the kind elect each Monday
For I was lazy or lost sight
Forgive my sins! Have mercy, Light!
I failed in the seven Yimkis
To fast and celebrate in bliss
Failed when the Bema was in sight
Forgive my sins! Have mercy, Light!
Each day I make dark thoughts and deeds
Each day I grow dark words like weeds
Betraying the light of pure white
Forgive my sins! Have mercy, Light!
Manichaean kyrielle poem based on the "A Confession Prayer for Hearers" in the Manichaean Book of Hymns
Hesketh approached this adventure with full throttle enthusiasm.
She had never captured a star, but was confident she would be victorious.
Being the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter of a star counter
A clear vision of her deed had risen from the inside of her cauldron.
Her visions were usually smoky, this one was as clear as a TV screen.
Without a vulnerable star, her powers were half-mast at best.
She was clairaudient, a captured star would give her clairvoyance.
Whispers of what life could be with this power assured her queendom.
At the present time her sister was to be ruler of Amsterdam City.
Hesketh was fully ready to combat black holes and dodge meteorites.
She had her claw devices ready to grip the star and pull it back to earth.
She would have to be fast, for sorcery had given her a warning.
Others were after this star. It was up for grabs so to speak.
Six or seven psychics had seen that it was wobbly and vulnerable.
crew was sworn to secrecy, as they exited this galaxy to enter the next.
Hesketh’s heart thumped wildly as she headed toward her destination.
What image does the word magic conjure up,
a prestidigitator or mystic spell?
Some say sorcery always needs a backup;
for wizards are tricksters with something to sell,
pretending to master the secrets of Hell.
Though illusionists' tricks deceive the eye,
hidden mirrors can't make real disappear.
They claim to levitate and seemingly fly;
honing their art for another grand premiere,
hawking their autographs as a souvenir.
Enchanters can enchant susceptible souls,
into believing their magic is real.
By exploiting reality's hidden holes,
they can manipulate how you think and feel;
turning ordinary into surreal.
Seemingly achieving the impossible;
magic and miracles share similar traits.
Both stretch the boundaries of what's possible,
contrary to what reality mandates;
and both have sparked philosophical debates./center>
King Pleasure bebop jazz singer vocalese hipster/
a legend he was/
a master at writing lyrics to solos of jazz instrumentalists such as the lyrics to Charlie Parker's "Parker's Mood"/
His scat singing was genius along with improvising on melodies and his ability to use his voice as vocalese in bending the pitch of notes as an instrument/
man, this cat was way gone/
Pleasure's vocal dynamics was scat sing sorcery/
in the pocket to his jazz cool new hipster jazz talk/
his sax like phrasing on lyrics went to another level and beyond the great Eddie Jefferson/
now dig this you jazz boppers/
King Pleasure's big jazz hit was "Moody's Mood For Love" lyrics by Eddie Jefferson written to the sax solo on "I'm In The Mood For Love" by James Moody/
the mighty hipster King was a master at using vocal inflection on words slicing through the night and sung at the speed of light/
rhythms collide on his phrasing to the bebop lyrics to Gene Ammons " Hittin The Jug" was renamed by Pleasure as "Swan Blues"/
King Pleasure had a direct influence Mark Murphy, Al Jarreau, Jon Hendricks, and the Manhattan Transfer singing group/
look out people cuz at the time King Pleasure was steppin’ into a new jazz sound swingin' jazz vocalese with ease/
Pleasure was somethin' else man/
a jazz cat with a new perspective on jazz singing to the highest jazz power/
he was a new edition to the way he blew people’s minds
his lyrical light shined so bright/
he wasn't a throwback/
he was the new jack of word speak scat vocalese with ease/
improvising on the beat as his words wrapped around into a tapestry of sound/
every phrase a hip journey of Pleasure on King's treasure of jazzy notes speak/
in the realm of jazz his legacy profound/
King Pleasure knows no bound
Tony Adamo
I was at a loss
Unable to fight my demons
Powerful and angry
They lashed out at me
As if they knew that since
I am made not of sorcery
They would vanquish me easily!
The torture lasted for years
I tried to fight back
But could not
I was too weak
I could only stand still
And let the demons
Do as they willed!
I thought of myself as cursed
After all, demons approach not
The shadows of angels
Demons only strike the fallen
To cause them to have lost souls
Souls swirling and twirling
In the sea of madness
The sea captivating us with its beauty
But made of waves capable of sinking us
Why, I thought it would go on
And stay as long as I lived
So much that I even confined myself
Into the refuge of my own company
But then,
All of a sudden
It stopped
And I realized
That all this time
I had been blind
I was naught but a moth
A moth captivated by the mystical light
A moth saved by the same light
A moth made of addiction
Craving for more and more
Of whatever the power of the light
Would deem best to bestow upon me!
Yes, it is over
It has stopped!
1st July 2017
I would help the air by blowing smoke
into outer space.
Not like the teens who blow it in my face.
Bok Choy!
For the farmer I would bring rain,
precipitation to wash upon delicious leafy greens.
Oooooh!
I would open the clouds just like they were a tap,
with a wave of my hands, stop drought
with a thunderous clap,
cause a streak of lightning just because I can.
I would make the water the purest, the tastiest,
I would take hydration to the maximus!
Nothing but the best for us, for the food
we harvest into healthy snacks.
The Arctic needs more cold
to keep the temperature well below.
Zero would be the problems when my frosty breath
takes hold.
I would use my lungs, my will, my color changing lips, to solidify the icebergs, fortify their length and width.
It is my pleasure, my treasuring,
just the nature of things, taking their course,
the power coursing through my veins
of course from love's mysterious source.
It would be like a tornado on the tundra.
Science meeting alchemy,
like liquid nitrogen caught in a breeze.
Where responsibility meets a good deed,
and nature meets with sorcery, haha indeed!
From Antarctica to the Arctic Sea,
I would do a solid for the life that thrives
on the world's icy shelf.
As far as the eye could see,
people will see me not just thinking of myself.
Even though I wouldn't mind an icee, or a slurpee,
or a magic elf.....a stereo, surround soun.....
ahem, sorry about that..
I would clear the old growth forests
with the back of my hand,
chopping like a kung fu master,
the bark, stump, branch, the whole botanical span,
and i'd pick up the trash just scattered about
and i'd put that sh...put it in a can.
I could take away the fuel
for an out of control blaze,
and give it to the elderly
for warmth on cold winter nights
and cold winter days.
It would also ensure to the animals
a lifelong place they can run and jump
and also graze.
But no cruising please,
it would be weird to run animal's vehicle plates.
I'm just sayin'.
We live in a world where magic is alive
We live with incantation and the surreal
We live with the charmed and the fay
In a world of magic where enchantment swells
In a world where monitoring spirits roam unnerved
Unhindered wrecking havoc emptying laymen's joy
The Indian dream catcher a thing of beauty
The dream catcher a thing of magic and marvel
Is reputed for keeping away the evil sorcerers eye
With the dream catcher we can dream fast in peace
The war fought in the shadows requires totems
To ward off evil spirits and evil inclinations
To keep away unwanted soul trapping and journeying
Like a Christian says his prayers in a puritan society
The dreamcatcher lets us dream in a controlled spectrum
In a world where sorcery and incantation still lives
The carefully woven dream catcher kips evil at bay
The dogs bark and the owl screeches in the night
Ghouls and specters are trapped in a phantom zone
The lone panther stalks the darkness of the night
As a goat tied outside the pen bleats in right alarm
Satiated with the offering the other goats are safe
As the dream catcher kips swaying in the winds of time
A Sherman enters into a trance communing with the spirits
The Medieval era
was filled with wars and strife
between the French and English
at cost of limb and life.
The French became disheartened;
their victories were rare,
a humbling situation
which was too hard to bear.
A peasant girl heard voices
and visions she could see.
A maid who had a mission,
young Joan from Domrémy.
The King and other nobles
put all their faith in her.
This maid of calm composure
had dreams which they could share.
Entrusted with an army
she rode the horse she had
with banner and sword wielding,
in shining armour clad.
The English looked in wonder;
there were bewildered scenes
as Joan and soldiers entered
the city of Orleans.
With rousing words and courage
her men to battle led.
The English were defeated;
in disarray they fled.
More victories then followed,
her fame spread far and wide,
but when the voices ended
she lost the gift to guide.
In battle she was captured,
for sorcery was tried.
Condemned to death by burning
to wooden stake was tied.
The hungry flames devoured
the maid’s unblemished skin.
She called the name of Jesus;
found strength from deep within.
She died. It was all over
this heroine’s ordeal.
She was proclaimed not guilty
years later, on appeal.
A martyr, now respected,
who paid a costly price.
A victim of politics;
a saint in people’s eyes.
-------------------------------------
Contest: Joan of Arc
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst
*Joan of Arc admitted that she never used her sword to kill anyone.
To her, strategy was more important than the sword.
Poindexter sat and stared at the new fellow with the sneaky eyes
He hated him, plotting this creepy guy’s downfall and demise.
It was a contest of wills, and they were both winning.
Poindexter was irritated; this jerk looked full of sinning.
Why sit there all day? Miss Tutters asked him, once and again.
This opponent looked tough, and Poindexter always liked to win.
Go play!.There’s your mousey and favorite catnip ball.
He decided to get it over for once and all.
He backed up and wiggled his ass good, but then realized.
Interloper was mimicking his every move, to his horrified surprise!
Tutters began to titter, as they both leaped through the air and hit.
Bang! His nose felt like it had been smashed more than a bit.
What kind of sorcery is this? He demanded. Tutters began to titter
She had to leave him at home that night, so she paid for a cat sitter.
Sitter watched him do the same thing and laughed until she cried.
Poindexter knew he would never like this cat who was sneaky-eyed.
Tears drop tornado, dollops jump above sides
Thin limb goblin sinking anchor bronze
Terrified in rising waves of violent river's rides
Envelope hapless magician in wail swirl static
Embellish emerald strangle collar wash
Emotions sharp peak - white caps leap erratic
Aspired as diamonds, climbed mountain poke
Arrange cloud malady stormy metal shon
Acrewed blue bellies bellow over goblin croak
Rascal salt ocean stab of silver dolphin spears
Roll nauseous sorcery balled crystal slosh
Regaled bedazzle boat slides triumphant tears
7th August 2021
Written for Contest: The Goblin's Jewel Box
Sponsor: Jack Webster