Long Spells Poems
Long Spells Poems. Below are the most popular long Spells by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Spells poems by poem length and keyword.
(Dedicated to all booklovers who have lost their loved ones to the scourge of the termite hordes - I did)
I thought I was a bibliophile
and indulged in pedantic boasts
I'd speak of ancient tomes and stuff
revel in Academia's toasts
horror of horrors I discovered
a lover of books beyond compare
who beat me hollow at my game
whose fame and honour I cannot share
the greediest booklover of all
who mulls all words into a hill
I hate to say that to this day
I have never beaten Termite Jill
when ole Termite Jill gets just a sniff
a book or paper placed someplace
she hies herself with fearsome glee
leaving for her ilk a homing trace
and from now on you could search in vain
to try and trace out Termite Jill
In nooks and crannies, desks and shelves
but till her deed's done, you never will
and when she's chewed on till bursting gut
she lets her hungry kin-folk feed
and then when done you can be sure
they'll spawn a more ravenous seed
a million Termite Jills will be born
you cannot add their growing sum
a million more and then some more
a progression ad infinitum
a termite apocalypse looms anon
spells doom to the literal world
The termite minions move ahead
Jill's dance has the Tandava Twirl
so who now is the bibliophile
who undoubtedly fits the bill
not me the voracious reader
but the rampant, raging Termite Jill
( posted only today Jul 21, 2026)
Merry spells, fairy tales
—
I went down good old memory lane
Down neverland, land of fairy folk
To times of less stress and strain
Now don't laugh it off as a joke
Come with me and recall
The fairy folks secret hall
Twas' behind an illusory mirage,
next to the goblin's old garage,
below, to the deep fairy's forest,
where you be an ogre's guest.
— Walk to the hut of a gnome,
where wicked witches roam,
or where trolls have made their home,
around the toothfairy's dome.
And turn left, then, to where
— the wily wizard stayed;
about the corner there,
— where playful pixies played;
and then to the right,
— where frowning brownies dwelled
in lil' mushroom mansions,
— where spells they spelled.
And if time you have to
— actually spy and eavesdrop,
place that ear against the keyhole
— of the elve's lil' shop.
Hear their enchanting chants,
as they sell their magic wands,
and tell tall tales about short pixies,
or of leprechauns in their sixties.
Then you'll come across a genie's cave,
where, when you see a sprite, just wave.
And lastly, move on to where live the impy imps,
and these really might've descended from chimps.
Then, to shrink toadstool size, don't bow —
first ask a genie just to show you how.
You've reached crescent fairy's fairyforest now —
An imaginary, legendary destination — wow!
If I was a powerful Queen
I would choose to rule without a smile
Of course, my mind would be kept serene
For I would make sure my subjects do run my own mile
If I was a magical fairy
I would hide from the world and pretend to be an impostor
Ugly is how I would see the face of humanity
Though all of humankind has been made by the Lord, our father!
If I was a old witty witch
I would use all of my love spells
I would seduce the cute and the rich
At my diseased feet, I would make sure they all fell!
If I was an omniscient Goddess
I would create another world
I see Earth as beautiful, but sickened by an abcess
By the side of my God, I would make sure my creation flowered!
With a sign, I realize I am but a poet
Sometimes, I become even a dreamer
Wishing I could have my way, play my own trumpet
Well, I can only write, hoping, to be remembered forever!
COLD GLOOMY DAY
Woke up on a shivering
Sunday morning.
The lovely autumn was
approaching,
The cold September spells from
North was coming.
Wondering,
What trench coat am I wearing?
The wardrobe I've opened,
As my red Hooded Glittery Coat
was shimmering.
Had to put this on,
to brighten up my cold,
Gloomy morning!
THANK YOU GUYS FOR THE SMILE!
15 September 2017
Written by: RMV-tatchvrg~
The curse of an ugly darling and her invisible shadow struggling for the warmth light and the ease in the dark night.
She is the lightening in the clouds; a distant flash followed by the sound of an unwavering silence.
A heroic sufferer trudging through a plaguing odyssey.
Untouchable and unreachable yet, undoubtably, a touched thought at arms length.
I am the bringer and the betrayer of her harboured suffering
For which she will always endure as long as our faces do not meet.
We are one with different eyes, halves with one soul, two perspectives of the same experience.
She feared her anger would control her madness and sentence her to a life of suffering.
As it did, I thrived in a lawless land cruising at the speed of light to planets of fire and meadow gardens whose walls were merely waterfalls.
I crushed crystals into my tea and meditated in the skies with the breeze as my throne.
No spear or strike, nor sickness or injury ever grounded my destiny for the light.
It was I, who built stones of civilisations that broke in a fit of jealous treachery: who brought a knightly freedom to those she enslaved: who locked her away, in a galaxy far away.
Our temples are crumbs now, a mythical remembrance to a forgotten past power.
Her tragedy bounds for another world
As my throne is nothing but a wild imagination of an invisible realm hidden within the skies of reality.
I am now a mosquito on warm waters and she is the fear-mongering dragon.
Beware the orange light you see on the horizon
For her spells of fire will burn your vitality to ashes and ashes
Until you are nothing more than rising steam or settled dust.
Sunshine beams sparkles softly golden magic
Breathtaking horizon of dreams spells casting
Feelings, faces and memories within
Shall follow the nature´s endless spin
Creeping higher morning glory rising perfect splendor
Smiling warm rays inside hot radiance glows
Dizzy with pleasure, tears a falling star rain wet drop of heaven
Total silence no vibration pearls on leaves dried
Songbirds sing praise in a heavenly choir whistling tunes
Enchanting dewdrops sparkling shivers, silver glistens
Diamond shining clearly colors beauty awakening
Rainbow riches polishing a heart to the highest luster
Into a landscape of dreams and hope
The green grass will grow for another tomorrow
A co write written by Liam Mcdaid
and Anne-Lise Andresen :) - 12.01.2015 -
- Thank you anne lise
Beautiful gypsy riding in a caravan
With a black mongrel and an old man
In the cold winter
Off to a world
That is new
And yet unknown
To a place that she will make her own
Across the dusty Arabian sands
With a glowing crystal ball in her hands
Armed with magical spells
And Voodoo like bells
Educated in the art of healing
With herbal roots
And exotic fruits
Robed in her long black tunic
And her big black boots
Her thick black hair
Raven black
Engulfs her pretty little face
Ravishing beauty
That turns heads in every little place
What will the future hold?
As they seek great fortune
Happiness and gold
Across the fields
They watch
Horse riding
Over the snow flakes
And across the hilly villages
Off to the city in the north
Where the Great robber pillages
Beautiful gypsy riding in her caravan
She arrives in a strange land
And meets a crowd of people
Shouting from a steeple
Go back! Go back!
But a preachers offer water
And asked the old man
Is this your daughter?
Beautiful gypsy riding in her caravan
Found a home to stay
She went down on her knees
To pray
She is too far from home any way
'I think, therefore I am!'
I write to bang and clang,
to play with words, cast spells.
Wrangle and entangle readers,
with thoughts dredged from memories,
resonating, reverberating within selves,
aligned on shelves, waiting to join in.
An audience of thinkers shaken not stirred,
by the clang and jar of poetic,
rhythms, rhymes, images and ideas.
Rendered with razzmatazz and syncopation,
in the written words rendered,
improvised, and concocted in a group session.
On a stage, on a page,
of prismatic selves,
jamming and jarring,
banging and clanging,
jangling with Mr Joe,
in worn out shoes.
Afraid,
that no one is listening, or
that no one,
really, truly, bluesy cares?
Sunshine beams sparkles softly golden magic
Breathtaking horizon of dreams spells casting
Feelings, faces and memories within
Shall follow the nature´s endless spin
Creeping higher morning glory rising perfect splendor
Smiling warm rays inside hot radiance glows
Dizzy with pleasure, tears a falling star rain wet drop of heaven
Total silence no vibration pearls on leaves dried
Songbirds sing praise in a heavenly choir whistling tunes
Enchanting dewdrops sparkling shivers, silver glistens
Diamond shining clearly colors beauty awakening
Rainbow riches polishing a heart to the highest luster
Into a landscape of dreams and hope
The green grass will grow for another tomorrow
A co write written by Liam Mcdaid
and Anne-Lise Andresen :) - 12.01.2015 -
- Thank you my dear friend Liam -
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
ordinary average witch spells usually backfired on Winny Woo
She loaded her cauldron like other witches always do
But if anything can go wrong, it does for poor Winny
Then she’s out of ingredients, said her cousin Tinny
Tinny delights in Winny’s sorry escapades and mishaps
She is not a great relative, these mistakes she even graphs
The rest of the relatives love it when Winny messes up
gives them fodder to laugh about when they get together to sup
today Winny was trying to get a ghoul to come forth from her pot
Tinny will soon be delighted to tell us that a highland bull is what she got
Winny’s frustrations delight her mean cousin, Tinny, who is not so nice.
It gets better said Tinny; Winny got a highland bull twice!