Mystery Magic Poems | Examples
These Mystery Magic poems are examples of Magic poems about Mystery. These are the best examples of Magic Mystery poems written by international poets.
Divine must meet whimsy before magic happens
I talked to you tonight
And even over the phone
You force it all to disappear
And it becomes us all alone
No other people or problems
Nothing but us exist then
Floating on a cloud with you
Earth feels as if its heaven
How is it you're able to do this
To me it's fully a mystery
There's nothing but your love
In life that can sustain me
She followed a rabbit
stitched from stardust,
leaping between planets
like lily pads of light.
A comet brushed her cheek
a whisper,
a secret,
a scent of home long gone.
Her dress,
woven from constellations,
twirled in zero gravity,
threads unraveling into galaxies.
The wormhole found her.
Not a door,
but a pulse,
a soft tear in the silence. She stepped in.
Light bent like memory.
Time folded into origami.
She became
a thought,
a chord,
a gasp inside the cosmos.
When she landed,
a planet blinked.
Rings spun like teacups.
A queen in a glass crown said:
“Wonderland was never down.
It was always above.”
And Alice
floating,
smiling,
rewrote the stars
with her finger.
There is a fire in me
Not meant to destroy.
It lights ruins
So I can read the old names.
It warms no one...
But, it remembers.
I am the magician called Urgency.
Many a person has been fooled by me.
If only they’d paused so they could see.
Their loss could have been a victory.
Come and walk with me on miracle mile
It will enhance all your senses
Bringing tingling sensations throughout your body
Making your your soul feel so good
The meaning of life will be understood
As we walk
All your worries will drift away
Feeling beautiful warmth
From the suns luminous rays
It’s a journey to happiness
Where we live on forever
Flowers are singing
Birds are dancing
Trees are playing
It’s amazing to see
Entertaining guaranteed
The flow of the aroma
Play sounds of a violin made from Cremona
Once we reach the end up ahead
We will come out brand new my friend!
You came for me and I am still flourishing
Obstacles were once on my path now they they are destroyed in my favor
How funny it is to be a golden alchemist
cycles of depression and suffering I transmute so quickly and masterfully
into more of my blessings, I keep on growing and I keep on flourishing
how funny it is to be, a golden alchemist.
It was a memorable evening, bright
with my beautiful, charming fiancé
(once my wretched, tormented heart's delight)
near the old village of Fatheringay.
Drawn by the lilt of a whispery voice,
we found ourselves in a dark, rustic pub.
An inner misgiving questioned our choice.
A man served drinks from a hook on a stub.
After imbibing a strange, bubbling brew,
we dawdled the full moon-lit countryside.
In the lunar light, her eyes shone light blue -
mine, a phosphorus glow, like Mr. Hyde.
We gazed at the Hydra constellation,
where the Ghost of Jupiter nebula
somehow unfastened my reservation,
as its image fell on my retina.
That my grandfather was a lycanthrope,
and a mad cascade of serpentine thoughts,
this myriad of disclosures doused hope
(a demented disconnection of dots).
The vile dreams would slither back to their hole
too late for my near bride of eighteen.
The strong brew's effects had taken their toll.
My love was never again to be seen.
No, my true love was no more to be seen.
In dusk's silence, I wandered into the forest's recesses
Where ancient secrets slumber, and mystic powers weave
The Uba forest's murmured wonders, a realm of awe
Where powder-kissed mysteries await, and spirits breathe
Fortified by inner strength, I communed with the land's guardian
A being of primal power, with eyes that saw beyond
The veil of reality, where worlds collide and blend
Humans morph into beasts, and creatures take on human form
In this realm of shape-shifting dreams, night and day converge
As beings with terrifying visages stride, their power unbound
I emerged transformed, my essence infused with forest might
Empty plates overflowed, and respect followed in my wake
But power's double-edged sword sliced through my foolish pride
My secret revealed, my life force ebbed away, in cool blood spilled
Now a spirit within the spirit realm, I whisper warnings true
Human power, fleeting and fragile, against God's eternal might forever
Words,
Sniffed by open ears.
Tangled sounds, of throats whose thyroid pounds,
For sakes, palavers and second rounds.
Hearing me, I learn to hear of you,
Your words my throat encode.
Vocalizations, tell tales of supplication,
Certain senses must've forebode.
Once man believed the world to be square
And I sought the horizon
Once your words were as honey
Your eyes shone with magic
And I sought to be part of your life
Once man learned the world was round
The horizon was no longer a mystery
Once she left and never returned
I understood the horizon
The witch of the woods watches from the window,
While willows’ webs weave wildly in the wind,
And wicked whiffs of worm-water are wafting
From the whirling well of woe and wallow.
In the river of life, each drop carries a touch of magic, a hidden secret,
Yet in its flow, it merges into a majestic and ancient song,
Thus are our lives, solitary stars shining in the night,
But together we form constellations, a story written on the infinite sky.
Like a shard of light dancing in the first rays of spring,
Reflected in the fabric of the day embracing the earth with a warm glow,
We are like the notes of a choir lifting uplifting hymns to the heavens,
But once the song fades, we disperse silently like echoes at dawn.
The glory of our moments, ephemeral and fragile, like butterflies touching the earth for just a moment,
Is a glance cast into the vastness of eternity, a flash of light in the ocean of time;
So rich is the beauty flowing like an endless river full of mystery,
That in its presence, our fall is merely a grain of sand carried by the wind.
Just as, when the last spark of the ember fades and vanishes in silence,
A bird loses its way, but the flock continues to soar, cradled by the sky's currents.
If there’s no sense in dying
Than what’s the sense in living
If both conditions are
The same, than it makes sense
For lovers life is special
It’s based on recognition
That’s where I belong, love says
This is my soul I see
Forever after it goes on
In its eternal spin
The real love is never gone
It always there within
We never die, and never live
It’s something inbetween
We do exist, we take and give
Together, out and in.
the town of Jingbut
had a ding
that chimed and chimed
did ring and ring
and a mystery
was this loudly thing
for over air
and garden came
straight through house
each room the same
for where you were
it did not wane
an all around
an everywhere
incessant ringing
to the ear
an omnipresent
far and near
it was a witch
as told by some
whose voice aloud
when she was hung
a curse to all
she deathfully sung
others tell
of murdering
or ghost or phantom
or of goblin
a demon’s
episodic rambling
then just as quick
as it had started
it wasn’t there
as strange it ended
gone, gone
but for how long
no-one knew
why it had been
but oft it rang
this haunting ring
that held the town
the Jingbut ding