Long Wizards Poems
Long Wizards Poems. Below are the most popular long Wizards by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wizards poems by poem length and keyword.
When All Hallows' Eve's curse, cast its spell, on that night,
As the choristers sung, all in tune, church bells rung,
And the bats, in the belfry now spooked, took to flight,
While the witches and wizards were chanting in tongue.
Soon the churchyard was filled, by the ghosts of the dead,
When those living caught sight, all their hairs stood on end.
While the cries, of the banshee that filled hearts with dread,
Made them pray, not for me, would those wails, all portend.
Soon the quick and the dead, were all covered in dust,
From those dried out old bones, once deceased, now alive.
When the chains, of those sinners broke free,from their rust,
All those innocents cried, as they fought to survive.
On the last stroke of midnight when witchcraft decayed.
The devout, sought salvation next day when they prayed.
10 / 27 / 2022.
Sponsor Craig Cornish.
For the contest All Hallows' Evening
When I was young I read a book
my hero was in there.
The book I'm sure, you've read yourself
about… 'Rupert the Bear'.
But my hero was not Rupert,
nor his Mother, nor his Dad.
Not even all the wizards or
the creatures Rupert had.
My hero was the poet
who turned all the words to rhyme.
Beneath the comic pictures
that ran with the storyline.
This was also wrote in paragraphs,
as all good books should be.
But the rhyming explanations
were the things that captured me.
I'm sure my admiration
for the muse behind the lines.
Was my earliest perception
of the power of simple rhymes.
So now I'm a rhyming poet
and my head will always fit.
My feelings and emotions
into words that rhyme a bit.
So forgive me if I bore you,
when my rhyming's always there.
It's not my fault.....
I'm brainwashed…. by that pesky little bear!
Ivor G Davies
Both teams seem equal. Can we call this A and B?
Coin tossed; goal-post chose; both, lo, relax for a wee;
The referee blows his whistle, B to kick-start,
Players plunge into deed; wet lips of spectators part...!
Dribbling, passing, defending, heading, and juggling,
One could see each team for a maiden shoot struggling;
Offside - says the referee whistling; it's team A,
When inquired, and verified, the messed up hums: Uh...!
B kicks the ball out; the ref calls for a throw-in;
Midst a life and death game, matters seem tough going;
A gets the first yellow card; the referee says;
Playing rough! Within A team there's a blast-like whiz...!
When B gets the red card, A, like hyenas, laughs,
Each team takes pleasure in making the other chaffs;
A kicks, as ferocious as a wild ox; Ball out!
At B's corner kick, bullets-like fan-fair cheer-shout...!
Soon, lo, the minute arrives, when A kicks a goal,
Sure, each one of the team has put their heart and soul!
The score soon turns equal, with B's penalty kick,
Like wizards, oh, both start showing many a trick...!
Like a thrill-filled action film, is a football game,
With thousands of mixed feelings spectators aflame;
Each, as though in love, in the game heart endorses,
Passions of players, in watchers, gallop like horses...!
24 December 2022
Poetry In Motion Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Matt Caliri
How far from earth are heaven and hell?
And which way do you go to get there, pray tell?
Did God create a GPS for the soul?
Or did he give little devils or angels the role
to escort you to the place where for eternity you'll dwell?
It was so hot, my nose melted off my face.
It was so hot, my blistered feet got fused in place.
It was so hot because of an infernal fire
that God eternally stoked to fulfill his desire
to flash fry those who'd refused to be in a state of grace.
If not for this fence, there'd be no shade,
and we'd be burning up watching this hellscape parade
of hellhounds and lizards ~
and three-headed wizards ~
and griffins with gross gizzards ~
making the little kiddies afraid.
Chilly October has quickly brought in
another spirited, indelible Holloween;
allowing our witty and insane minds
to plan the craziest, wildest things.
Witches, wizards, goblins and ghosts
all join in to give a bone-chilling night;
I put on a custom so dazzlingly white,
to scare anyone who laughs and boasts.
This ghost is never spoken of in any tale,
unknown by name, leaving no easy trail;
the only thing he does well is making sneers,
and send everyone scrambling with screams.
How frightened and pale these kids must really be,
when they cuddle up in their beds and can't sleep,
thinking of those spirits at their doorsteps;
lots of fun and delight at their expense...
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Overanalyze and criticize, demoralize and ostracize
Modern pundits legitimize their vicious exercise
Scrutinize and standardize, compartmentalize and cannibalize
Wizards of efficiency synchronize, initialize and circumcise
Demobilize and paralyze, stigmatize and de-humanize
Westernized pols, their constituents balkanize and polarize
Trivialize and miniaturize, standardize and sterilize
Thought-police priesthoods evangelize and moralize
Why can't they fraternize and socialize?
Why don't they harmonize and compromise?
Entry in Rhyme Battle: Xi Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Juli-Michelle
"PreOccupation"
spiced
cut up poetry
divides
numbers
intentional
drivel moved
to the side
on a blank page
into neat lines
sucked up
a much loved
addiction
novel and short
Pre Occupation
of all the glossy
shrouded shrouds
minds spiced
scab picking, their
word salads, tossed
the windbags
blowing braggarts
know-it-alls
blow it all
cutting the lines
like neat poetry, up
gladiator
brides
are us
sucking it
all up
like sweet custard
vampire voices
puck shot
through goal posts
cleansed?
they think they're missed;
I think not
baptised virtuous
scrabbled
war torn pilgrims
the lecherous
with nothing
better to do
watch all
bride defectors
sign language
look into the mirror
your reflections all
on repeat, the watchers
all wisened
move through,
or move
through not
they still avidly watch
the time wasting
away
Pre Occupation
sides and numbers
all blood suckers lost
buried, wearing
their shrouds
poetry in lines
black and white
cut up neatly
divided
on a blank page
the sucked up
read all the
time wasted
lost
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
Halloween approaches Vampires,
suck blood and be
merry
“The meeting commences in the arena;
Gladiators and space defectors
In walk the druids and the shock troops
In walk the druids and the shock troops
Ringside seats, bird's eye views
Video cameras only tell the truth
Milliards of youths complacent in the eyes
Of their contemporary sleuths
Witch-wizards sat on cosmic thrones
The new age crowned all skin and bones
The sacred priestess of Merlin The Mage
Opens the book, she turns the page ...”
...
"Conspiracy of silence
An orgy of peace
They're all here from every sphere
From every planet to shake their spears
Divide the lands of the halls of Pan
Painted warlords in their hordes
Asa kings and obi queens
Step from my skull and live my dreams
(excerpt/”Druids”, Toyah Wilcox, 1982)
Was it real or in a dream
Wizards and kings, chocolate ice cream
Dinosaurs roamed from early morn
Flying zebras and a unicorn
Dancing in the sky from star to star
Travel the universe in a flying car
Make believe ship manned by pirates and thieves
And a tree that was covered with spearmint leaves
No one cared about silver or gold
We were children again who would never grow old
There was a horse in the field talking to a mule
My cat said horses can't talk, don't be a fool
I told my cat that the prince once was a frog
A firefly whispered your cat once was a dog
The earth began rumbling but I took it in stride
I just jumped on my rug for a magic carpet ride
I stopped on a mountain when I reached the peak
A polar bear asked me whom do you seek
I reached for the bear and he began to smoke
Then a penguin stopped by and told me a joke
I flew back to earth when I heard a bell toll
As fate would have it, I ran into a troll
He huffed and he puffed and smiled and said
Come have a conversation with my talking head
The head was a monster but I wasn't afraid
He said I'm getting a body as soon as I get paid
Then I walked down a road that was red and yellow
I noticed the shrubs were made of strawberry jello
Suddenly a space ship landed from out of the sky
In a field that was filled with banana cream pie
This may be hard to believe but i swear that it's true
As sure as my skin is green and my hair is blue.
In smoky halls where echoes groan,
they carved the truths in tempered stone,
yet none recall the scribe who wrote—
a chap in boots and mismatched coat.
His quill was plucked from harpy's wing,
he’d hum while making corpses sing,
and in his book, no saints nor rules—
just jesters crowned as sacred fools.
He’d scrawl: “The Pharaohs danced in socks,”
“Atlantis sank for TikTok shocks,”
“The gods play poker, bluffing fate,”
and “Death’s quite fond of jam on plate.”
No funeral dirge, no sacred chant—
just tales of one ghostly aunt
who haunts her pub near Camden Town,
and downs her Guinness upside down.
In Chapter Twelve, he penned with flair:
“The soul’s a squirrel. It climbs. Beware
of preachers selling spirit glue,
and wizards who misplace their shoe.”
The elders scoffed, the prophets wept,
the choirboys fainted as they slept.
But underground, the rebels laughed
and toasted with their witchy draught.
He wrote of love, of wars, of tea,
of how the stars play hide and seek,
of time—“a dodgy landlord bloke
who always vanishes mid-smoke.”
The Book of Souls, they locked away,
filed under “Myths” in disarray.
But now and then, it starts to speak
when full moons twitch and reason leaks.
It sings not hymns, but punk and blues,
of afterlives in dancing shoes—
a book that breathes, that mocks control,
and dares to ask: Who owns the soul?
So if you find it, dog-eared, worn,
by alley bins or fields of corn,
read loud, and let your spirit troll—
for madmen may just save the soul.
Warlocks, witches and wizards appear,
as they do this time every year,
exposing craggy faces, screeching sounds,
and sowing blood magic as fear abounds.
Guarding my head with pillowed quilt
hoping my craven face won’t melt!
But I cry out panicked! Horrified!
They pass me by on their frightful ride.
White-hot power rends me paralyzed
and by despair and anguish traumatized.
Terror races through my iced blood
reverberating a tortuous thud.
Ghouls and zombies teeming around
burgeoning in and out around town.
I pray to survive till sun arises
and confront no more horrid surprises.
Halloween is suitably scary.
I am vigilant, and wary.
Once-a-year is enough for me.
I savor being eerie- and freaky-free!!