Long Wizardly Poems
Long Wizardly Poems. Below are the most popular long Wizardly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wizardly poems by poem length and keyword.
Folie à deux
("shared madness," or "madness for two").
I suffer in silence, though not alone
kvetching old curmudgeon (me)
(once upon a time, a promising
long haired pencil necked geek)
buzzfeeding off life's miniseries
of unedited miseries in tandem
with ideal counterpart ofttimes
easily mistaken for a clone
Matthew Scott Harris
unable to function without her
(zee wife), he doth espouse as integral
to calculus of his existence
plus attributes wizardly
powers within (yours truly)
derived, highfived, and thrived courtesy
(think symbiotic), quietly riotously quintessentially,
nevertheless beloved hen pecking crone,
we carrion and cavort
(our respective wings
beating at speed of sound)
generating humming drone
beehive ving amorously
exhibiting unchoreographed tableaux
long practiced routine
equilibrium intermittently punctuated
with dynamic pantomime tour de force
communion words superfluous
since telepathic communication
predominates the unspoken wavelength
long established modus operandi
since... before pledging our troth,
while each ourselves in utero
womb during fait accompli
vis a vis gamely matched
think arranged embryonic marriage,
thus marital covenant
essentially linkedin since conception
both of us coaxed when livingsocial
no longer being tethered to umbilical cord
as lifelong playmates
forging compatible association,
now a gratuitous nod to our long since
dearly departed mothers
unbeknownst to them
how like firmly attached barnacles
each handily, snugly, and warmly fit
(esse mitten hand over fist gal love)
vicariously experienced reciprocal
trials and tribulations
whatever fate visited head of the other
permanently anchoring
nsync out rolling - rock of Gibraltar
across metaphorical stormy seas
trying against all odds
to weather strongest
emotional/psychological tempests
wallowing, née drowning in despair
at aging body, fading senses,
and thinning hair
which last named
akin to Samson
bolsters mein kampf
since... infancy, whose
counterpart betraying me like Delilah
wishing and threatening
(albeit jestingly) to lop off golden locks
each hair reed stranded longfellow
woolworth more'n fine spun gold!
“Chicken!”
Just check’n in
The wizardly road
Wise crack’n
Two flowers on a stem
Yodelly-yellow
“Chicken!”
Surely escaped
From his looney pen
Clouds like cerulean lakes
On a perfectly blue sky day
Peek-a-boo chicken
Just check’n in
As if a photo bomber
Chicken’s a tease
The escapee’s off roading
Green hills and hay
Red roof and chimney
Jiminy crickets
The chicken has been spotted
He’s sporting a crimson crest
A triangular nose
Striking a pose
Will he be long gone
When the farmer’s wife
Comes looking for him
With a fork and knife
Thus far the door’s closed
And the chicken roams
Free on the range
Perhaps you’ll find his signature
Or perhaps an imposter
Drying on the paint
Perhaps it isn’t at all
What it seems
Farewell thee, chicken
And your cockeyed scene
Trying to hide in conspicuous places
a night on the town in their false, plastic faces.
Sweetly they sweep through magnificent halls,
top-dollar galas and masquerade balls --
where always the wine is more bitter than sweet,
each girl wishing for love in her ruby-clad feet.
Perhaps scarecrows are thoughtful, and lions are brave,
and the tin-men know passion, such a boisterous parade
of hopeful young suitors, each waiting his chance
to find a young lady and win her last dance.
All tied up as prisoners with satin-silk chains
they listlessly dance as the hope from them drains.
A piano-man plinks only on the black keys:
pentatonic winds on a pentatonic breeze,
still not enough blowing to carry balloons
or to start raining houses from cyclic typhoons.
The evening draws on -- long beyond the moon’s rising,
a faint glinting of green from the city’s disguising
the envious looks in the eyes of the witches
and harsh threatening gales of the wind as it switches.
And no one is happy, none are finding their prize --
no one knows what they want, nor removes their disguise.
So the dancing is pointless, bravado is hollow
no wizardly magic can fix what will follow.
Shallow connections that lead nowhere, and quickly
the ballroom grows quiet, the witches grow prickly
the lions go fleeing, the scarecrows are clueless,
the tin-men don’t care, and that makes them the cruelest
For out in the public, among all the noise
some girls have gone missing -- and so have some boys
and in the dark shadows, all knew what occurred
but they whisper and gossip, and spread what they heard:
that it must have been mutual, it must be alright
they’re both grown adults, let’s not be so uptight.
And thus they all hide, in conspicuous places
enabling the culprits with false, plastic faces.
9/4/16
happy new year to one all all
may the new year bring peace happiness and more
thank you
"the yellow brick road"
some say the yellow brick road is a state of mind
others say it is a place to be and follow
I say the yellow brick road is both well defined
all who seek home a brain a heart or courage
know this path towards light and victory unveil
kept safely within munchkinland's magical storage
strength and beauty soar beyond color or care
imaginative rainbow shades shine and guide
those of munchkinland are committed to share
some say the yellow brick road starts at the beginning
others say it ends when the wizardly journey concludes
I say the yellow brick road forever lies within breathing
SkyWatcher
12-31-22
The fey were excited and they had a big brass band.
They were speaking of green mole house in autumn land.
But what is it? I asked, as I took my feet out of wet sand.
It is where delicacies and jellies are pickled and canned.
There is a mole there named Wizardly Dastardly Dan.
He will help you put up produce in jars as fast as you can.
Oh yes! Yelled a brownie and an elf. “Dan is the man!”
I watched them serenade each other with a wink and a fan.
Wait a second! What else does Wizardly Dastardly Dan do?
He is a cobbler and a miner. He can fix your left shoe.
I looked at my shoe whose heel was off. It was torn too.
I think I should go there now. Yes, this is what I will do!
Murmurs of the dust and bricks of the house of your dad called
Dialogues on the mystic ways of the kingdom enthralled
Food for your psychic power, from cosmic secrets you drew
Winds of words of your wisdom, around the environs, blew.
The earth and the heavens were adorned with rainbow attire.
To spell out the soul of salvation, you were on fire.
Awe filled the deep souls of beings in each interaction.
Weren't you the saviour who salvaged humans from destruction?
Joseph knew this. Emmanuel had a mission assigned.
The wisdom you gained from the heavens, on earth, you applied.
Mary treasured your wizardly ways and meditated.
Seeds of a hope-filled dawn, in human hearts, vegetated.
Learning, teaching, labouring... realism, like rivers, flowed.
Each day of existence, with rays of godly graces, glowed.
When dragons ruled the atmosphere
gliding here, and then flying there.
No battle waged on kingdoms where
the magical beasts made their lair.
The wind blew strong beneath their wings,
whispering wise, wizardly things.
As though angelic chorus sings,
their smoky song of solace brings.
Calling for calm against the wrongs
that other beings flung in throngs.
Let us live and sing soothing songs!
This land to everyone belongs!
"Peace!" They implored throughout the sky.
In formation, they flew close by
signaling in soft lullaby
that fearful others heed their cry.
Though they flew throughout darkened set
of sun and rise of moon – not yet!
Scathing hate spewed from whom they met.
Unwilling hearts to live and let!
Once upon a time
Just to enlighten my mind
I crawled in to a book
To take a closer look
Right there between the pages
A story for all ages
Scrambling over each word
Hoping imagination would stir
I came to the word "market"
Fell in on a magic carpet
Went flying up and down
He told me he was book bound
We flew through every leaf
With pauses somewhat brief
Buzzed right through every chapter
Until the happ'ly ever after
It seems there once was a wizard
Who had a fire breathing lizard
They were the best of friends
Lived in a bear cave den
One day they met a squire
Who wanted to acquire
An imprisoned captive princess
Surrounded by walls and fences
But hunters were trying to kill
The lizard who wouldn't chill
They would all help each other
Until the plot was discovered
This is where my story ends
The carpet and I parted friends
I promised never to reveal
This magical plot concealed
The last thing I have to say
Is go find a book display
If there's a wizardly dragon lover
Read it from cover to cover
an original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner
Well-established wonder-stricken wayfarers will work with wizards,
who worry worm-eating warblers will wander by with Wyandottes.
Witchdoctors wallowing with Weiss beer will widen willowy wonky
widow’s walks. Who? What? When? Why? Why not?
Wonderful wearisome woolly Willies whose wrinkly wiggly whatchamacallits will weigh whizzing wingfish whipped wildly within Widow Williams’s whirlybird’s window wells. Who? What? When? Why? Why not?
Why wayfarers? Witches? Wizards, Wolverines? Witchdoctors? Well, woks, workbenches, wobbly wickiups, were wildly wanting whiffle ball’s wishful wildcats, which is why we were willing to wind up wolves, women, and worst-case woodcocks into worthy wayfarer’s winter wineglass widgets within wonderful, wise-cracking
woodland’s wee-folk who reside within wizardly wigwams.
Who? What? When? Where? Why? Why not?
Warm whoopee wayfarers welcome willing witchdoctor's whizzing whatchamcallits on Wednesdays with wonderfulness.