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.
F l y i n g
a sailing tailwind
through cerulean streams
and creamsicle colored beams—
are wings reflective
of the turquoise truth
and white purity
of Autumn’s ether
he aviates
a clear troposphere
riding an unbridled
capricious and combative
boreas
on the cusp
of a new season
with a plumage infusion
of shifting Cape Cod skies
the blue jay mixes hues
with the Northern azure
that fades to shades
of turmoil
to the South and East—
becoming lost
in its milky breadth
its lilting light
its dimming depths
where the edge of rustic rural
meets the sandy ridge of conifers—crooked
twisted and back-bent
from gales
of salt-sprayed sorcery
Canadian bluster-gusts
leading the charge
of a cold sapphire crest
is bedeviled
offshore
by the raw
tongue-lashing spin
of a brooding onshore flow
twirling
a brewing brawl
whirling
in slate pearlescent space
s w i r l i n g
with the dusky feistiness
of stormy petrels…
mobs of darkening fog
growing fatter
on summer’s fainty surrender—
leftover tints of tender cornflower
and hints of dainty dove
there’s a sparkle
in the eye of the storm…
his mischievous black gaze
mirrors
the harsh harbinger
of commotion
clash and change—
his piercing “jay-jay” jabs
the maddening mayhem
of menacing air
with an emerald-needled sharpness
of wind-weary pitch pines
anchoring
the beige of coastal dunes
where his refractive blues
take cover
in colorful contrast
ahead
of the bruising
October nor’easter
when I was young I remember hearing this song
and there was something about the words I felt were inherently wrong
"I'll put a spell on you, I can't stand the things you do
I don't care if you don't want me, I can't stand you because you're mine"
there are entities in life trying to captivate our minds and manipulate our emotions
wanting to govern our actions with subliminal messages and magic potions
yet when Phillip a deacon and devoted disciple of Jesus Christ
came to tell the Samarians about how to lead a Christian life
he met a village magician, a master of trickery
a false prophet, a charlatan with a degree in sorcery
who had the village people afraid, living in abject fear
with the threat to put a spell on anyone, any time, any where
he positioned himself into a superior role of protection
presenting himself as the one to give approval or rejection
an expert in enchantment, his name was Simon the Great
and when he comes into your neighborhood it's probably too late
he comes with guns and gangs, pushing needles and drugs
he brings all kinds of illegal activities and your garden variety thugs
he stands on every corner displaying his illusions
a snake oil salesman offering dreams of delusion
he preys on the vulnerable, the weak and the young
flashing his bling-bling and his slimy forked tongue
there's a Simon in every village, town and neighborhood
and there's nothing in him that about being good
so what is a village to do? when Simon has threaten to put a spell on you
The Enchantress with the Greenest of Eyes
This lady is quite lovely and most fascinating with the greenest of eyes,
And she’ll easily captivate and bewitch all men she meets with no surprise.
This lady has the reddest of hair, long and full, with such a lustrous sheen,
And with her soft skin and a nubile appearance she looks just like a queen.
This lady’s grace of movement and mellifluous voice are most charming,
Which makes her all the more enthralling to men and at once most disarming.
Now one can see why this Enchantress with her comely visage of pulchritude,
Can make easy work of the men she meets and mesmerizes with such certitude.
This reflects that some people in life are not what they always appear to be,
And this Enchantress wears such a mask hiding her true self—for no one to see.
Since this is the reality for men who fall for this lady while making their pitch;
It will be obvious to many of them over time that this Enchantress is a Witch!
For men who succumb to the spell of this Enchantress, it’s time to pay the Piper,
And so they will now meet the real person behind her mask who is Satan’s Viper!
With powers of sorcery and debauchery supreme this Enchantress sets her goals,
Which is to sow fear in her victims—bringing eternal damnation to their souls!
For men who might meet this Enchantress, don’t look deeply into her green eyes!
This deep look will lock your soul under her evil power and bring on your demise!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, January 20, 2015 (Rhyme)
In the twilight, amid the cacophony of a birthing evening light
the scent of petrichor, boardwalk talks in standstill time
Discarded yellow buckets feet of clay that toed in tight,
imperviously swift to a descending sun your eyes in slow met mine
suddenly you were a somber California boy in my parade
I was quick to draw a spell with the magic of my jade
Magical Spells
A sorcery of love
Girl meets boy
In the most clandestine way
California land of dreams
Another place another time, love bloomed with grace
crystal ball fantasies, we both flew from place to place
Married
A
Girl
Infatuatedly
Crazy
in the twilight, amid the cacophony of a birthing evening light
she walked me to the beach, then introduced me to the night.
Date: March 11, 2022
Sponsor Robert James Liguori
Contest Name Magical Spell
BLEACHED AND BEAUTIFUL
She let the sand
Slip through her hand
She was an hourglass
A witness, to the past
She let the future
Unknown
Fall back to the sea
She lived an eternity by these waters
The salt christened wind
That came everyday
To play in her hair
The waves knew her by name
A companion, chaperone, accomplice
They would only surrender
An obscure reflection
Ambulated and alive
She scribed, queries with a shell
She held, to sand, she laid
And signed them
With a single aim
To watch the surf
Worry them away
She would press into the dunes
Unafraid
The waves would keep her safe
An aria of seduction
Orchestrated by the moon
And she would dream
The sea loved to watch her
Her sorcery and symmetry
Her shadows, a soliloquy
Of a tempest, kept at bay
And she would dream
Of falling sand
Bleached and beautiful
Stolen by the breeze
And she would dream
War for our souls
Inexplicable reason crying foul,
Final war for - the soul of man
The ironic scarcity of happiness
Mass contract killing sanctioned, tho allowed
And simply, all, just because
- they can..?
Search for neither limit bound
Across the Earth dimensions fold,
For spiritual trap - nonetheless
In pictures, movies, of Cabaal
Trickery, sorcery forever sold
manufactured wars through constant lies
Promoting, funding - of all sides
Conflict of purpose truth be told
Ignoring victims and their cries
Banksters printing, Profit making
FIAT currency usuary system
Maintaining undue persistent stress
Corporates in unison with
government a formality
This their form - insipid totality
Choosing their vehicle to oppress
Pandemic nonsense lying stats,
why would they want this - for us?
Revealing, but exposed no less
We cannot carry on in this way,
cycle of torment to ourselves
Prediction now of man's success
All wars satanic so they say
But most poignantly now, this final one, though it never relented, it never went away..,
Are all deniers idiotic then?
Or does their salary then depend
on such intended pay for play..
Rhetorical license words suspend,
All the things that however defile us, including private and mass hysteria,
And disbelief - amongst other things, to which there appears no end,
Freed from mesmerised compliant inertia,
For spiritual Gnosis be regained,
But willing and able all shall pass,
Protect oneself properly, the one true intellectual property, that always had remained,
Entire matrix paradoxical lies
Nothing is lost, but yet forbidden
to the unknowing crippled masses,
- remember..
All is possible
Although it is yet,
all..
- still hidden.
Kurt Hubbard-Beale
During covid 19 lockdown
October 2020
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In the crucible of time, where the iron of human will is melted,
Lords of armies forge their crowns from flames that build mirages.
They invoke the spirit of the earth, but their thoughts leap over windmills,
In the sorcery of pride, chanting incantations that cast smoke in their eyes.
With siren's tongue, demagogues lull their people into a deceitful slumber,
Leading them to swim toward the maelstrom of war with arms of reliance.
Beneath a mask of patriotism embroidered with false gold, they become masters of illusion,
Building castles upon bones, under which lies only the sand of ephemerality.
They raise their speeches like obelisks toward the sky, but in their shadow lurk abysses,
Weeds of words grow toward the sun, stirring hearts with the wind of change.
They urge an exodus of souls to fields of stelar battle,
But they are shooting stars, covering the earth with craters of silence and oblivion.
They are alchemists seeking to turn the lead of fears into the gold of glory,
But in their flasks boil only delusions and their long, dark shadows.
Black magic they birth, in the name of a false rebirth,
Where white lemons of peace are promised, but autumn reaps only bitter citruses.
Oh, in this web of mirages, where each mirror is more deceiving than the last,
The hero becomes a lost shadow in the grand spectacle of power,
Playing the role assigned in this magical play of destiny,
Where the true enchantment is to see beyond the smoke curtain, to break the spell and be reborn before the end.
As a tiara of lights blushes on cheeks
with rhythmic sorcery, I breathe in the fire
under the open moonlight,
and velvet curtains unfold
on one evening’s tapestry…
the heart pulses with a podium
of tantric notes bound
to release some lithe madness ,
as silhouettes appear like rugged capes
grating the first tempo of Latin blues.
Now, go! Cuddle it, taste it , snort it…
whatever the spirit releases
in a mix of bass, sax, and percussion;
this rhapsody of notes devours my breasts
slaying the hours to climb past reality…
each tilted croon floods my being
that I am gone somewhere,
among the clouds of tribal rapture
one with the universal float in a dance,
in tears heating along crowded aisles
while the neon bulbs onstage shuts off.
6/6/2015
Craig Cornish's Concert
The new millenia has delivered a genesis
of global corporate government,
a religion of salvation through submission to the State,
politicians as priest, as pest,
collection plates around every corner,
confession rooms in community centers, communion with false currency,
tax code as Bible, Commander in Chief as Christ,
the man or woman arousing their neighbor's suspicion that private property
is being stealthily seized,
that sovereignty is not just for nations but for individuals,
vigilantes of enlightenment engaged in martyrdom to be their own,
not strawman accounts,
contending to keep their wages, defending "Due Process" with dignity,
these frontiersmen of freedom pouncing on the pall
of political sorcery,
being met with scorn & scoff
not by officers and officials
but from the bellows of fellows -
J.A.B.
"A spell cast beneath the moon will not grant
what a lonely heart desires." ~Poet's quote
She wears the feverish pink blush of innocence
But this young enchantress has painted her own cheeks.
Her dark eyes, smoke shadowed, she intends wickedness,
casting a spell with the mystical words she speaks.
As a barn owl watches with intense suspicion,
condoning her sorcery with shrill piercing taunts.
Poised, she continues with tenacious petition,
chanting the words of havoc on the man she wants.
Beneath the pallid glimmer of the haloed moon
she summons a nebulous mist up from the sea.
Then, softly singing a beguiling old fey tune,
croons 'til an avian flock appears from her plea.
Ravens do the bidding of her archaic charm.
With an eerie gleam shining in their beady eyes,
they'll encircle the man with their cries of alarm,
cawing the curse to make him love her by sunrise.
She wears the feverish pink blush of innocence,
As a barn owl watches with intense suspicion.
Beneath the pallid glimmer of the haloed moon,
Ravens do the bidding of her archaic charm.
December 9, 2020
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