Short Grimoire Poems

A demon leaps up from the pages,
Long ages
Waiting for his invitation:
Your invocation.

Too late you slam shut both the covers;
He hovers
Giving you gold in a barter:
Your soul’s the martyr....

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What a work is man 
between his heart and hand 
gives birth to creations art 
imagery cast around like pages 
torn from young gods grimoire
Drifting across unknown sands
Distant forgotten space
what a work is man 
the image of the master plans
cast in flesh of a dreaming god
At rest 
a drift on the oceans 
of midnight seas
what is this the art of man...

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Spider webs woven into that guitar,
soft music will echo and hang around;
The audience an unsuspecting fly 
tries to wiggle held tight by a grimoire;
Souls become lost and can never be found;
It will not fail over time they comply,
something in the air sedates what is shrill;
Quiet now it’s not so bad being bound; 
Your submission you can now justify 
any other move has become futile 
                   to try....

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Torn, tattered, tainted,
my Book of Shadows

Travels with me,
from cities to meadows

Drawings included;
demons and rainbows

Spells introduced,
between haystacks and cornrows

Too frequented to be dusty,
fingerprints galore

Weathered in delight,
my personal grimoire 

Some may find it spooky,
but to me, I adore

Empty pages wait for me,
what do they have in store


Tuesday, November 23, 2021
''W'' New Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France...

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