"magicians" poems
593
I think I was enchanted
When first a sombre Girl—
I read that Foreign Lady—
The Dark—felt beautiful—
And whether it was noon at night—
Or only Heaven—at Noon—
For very Lunacy of Light
I had not power to tell—
The Bees—became as Butterflies—
The Butterflies—as Swans—
Approached—and spurned the narrow Grass—
And just the meanest Tunes
That Nature murmured to herself
To keep herself in Cheer—
I took for Giants—practising
Titanic Opera—
The Days—to Mighty Metres stept—
The Homeliest—adorned
As if unto a Jubilee
’Twere suddenly confirmed—
I could not have defined the change—
Conversion of the Mind
Like Sanctifying in the Soul—
Is witnessed—not explained—
’Twas a Divine Insanity—
The Danger to be Sane
Should I again experience—
’Tis Antidote to turn—
To Tomes of solid Witchcraft—
Magicians be asleep—
But Magic—hath an Element
Like Deity—to keep—
40.2k
We all are unique magicians
From a painter to a nurse
To a poet that writes a verse
We create it in our own way
To brighten up somebody's day
We may all not have mind blowing tricks
Though our goodness still sticks
Our efforts never go unnoticed
And we don't make use of hypnosis
We all are created for a specific use
Each with our own personal muse
We all are unique magicians
And we will fulfill our missions
Feb 15, 2019
Feb 15, 2019 at 1:52 PM UTC
Amid the verbose magicians
Seeking kinships
And sailing deep into their arduous mists
Watching them peddle their afternoon
To a handful of smiling children holding their breath
Amazed in gentle body trick
The older men of age
Leaning deep into their creased chins
Stroking the grizzled fat
Blinding light of soul
Staring down the barrel of life
Striking the enemy one last time
And yet smiling
sober,
Met of match,
taking care of their kids.
Then there's the cold-clocked dudes
On the phone pushing buttons
In a button-up raglan
Lost indistinct
the promised land
The golden shores swept away by
inconvenient time
Left shopping in an auto mall
"Won't you look at the time?"
7.07 APR
Boy what a steal!
And Steve maddened and screamed
As the lines blurred instinctual between opposing teams
And the oven dinged a great alabaster slant
Leaning towards the new millenitants
Rise up!
***** the wheel
Turn the axel from pistons
To alkaline metal
And doubt with great monumental
Quality
That the machine borders all
And we cannot retreat
And while I sift bouyantly between the waves
Searching the puzzle piece within the molecules
Reconnecting with the things
And representing
dreams on a 66 hertz screen
I call rather failing
Towards a black rocked shore
Towards the sweet Dorigen
Of my dreams
Finding an integral of time
And space
And calculating the intangible slope
Of my desmise
With the imaginary constiutent
Of that lighted mind.
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 4:24 PM UTC
We held hands as time's sand
passed between. Night chocked
the last sun beams. Our conversation
was pertinent to the dwindling
red wine bottle. As the moon glazed
shore began to roar, she whispered
"Let's cuddle." I dropped you, holding her,
and thought "Oh" and began to coddle.
I wrapped myself around her like a shell to a turtle
and she began to nestle on my chest. I guessed
the indigestion came from the Bordeaux bottom.
Boy, was I wrong. See, as I lay with her,
forgetting about you, I remembered
blood is thicker than water. The loves
we choose are stronger than ones
We've fallen into. I wasn't falling there,
underneath the stars, next to the parked car.
I was laying. I was contemplating
as the wind was spraying the lake
into the air.
I came to the conclusion
I was in an illusion of love.
Confounded by smoke and reflections
from movie magicians. She looked up
to me and I guess she could see
my reality crumbling in the breeze.
She asked if I was ok. My slight smile alluded
I was and we laid in love
until the sun's intrusion.
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 4:44 PM UTC
She handed me a red dice.
If you're gonna run
She said,
You better run from
yourself.
You'll chase bliss,
Win your life,
Strangle fear
And conquer
heights.
But don't roll the dice
For just anything
quite.
When you're out of profit
An empty wallet
Ready to make a promise,
You'll find it
in your deepest pocket.
It will let you start anew
Like a star in a barren sky
You'll fly again
Perhaps even soon.
Just remember that
By the millions of odds
You got here in time
To be yourself.
No more
No less.
And so you
Do what you must
But you better do it right
There aren't too many dice throws,
Given here in life.
And so
I rolled.
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 10:02 AM UTC
We women fold linen
some believe we live solely in the kitchen
we are a force of nature,
we nurture children, we are driven,
we kiss things better, we matter.
We women hold opinions
we women mould opinions,
where else but in the kitchen,
nurturing, washing, listening,
dishing wisdom with love.
We women are cloaked
in many roles,
politician, clinician,
villain, lover, mother, cook
smothering all under our cloak.
We women suffer more
due to our nature, we're also tougher
than a right hook!
Duck next time women are driven
to anger.
We women are the ignition
of life, love and understanding
we go by many names,
Mother, sister, aunt, wife and nan.
Our own name lost to time.
Would I want to be a man?
No.
We women are fruition,
we are magicians,
we are are giants in our own right.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 1:38 PM UTC
Where does the spark and infatuation from the beginning go?
It’s crazy how quickly you can go from being excited to talk to a person to feeling like you’re forcing the conversation. The quality time you spend with each other turns into “I was busy” and the consistent communication becomes “I don’t know”. When does “I hate to see you leave” turn into “It hurts too much to stay?”
Could it be because we’re all guilty of taking things for granted? Maybe we think love is something which will appear whenever it is convenient, or maybe we don’t realize how important it is to keep a good thing going. Maybe we think happiness is something that just finds us, instead of being something we must work for. And maybe that’s why we end up doing or saying something we shouldn’t have, and regret our actions later. It’s amazing how fast things change…
You go from laughing about anything to arguing about everything. You go through the motions, wondering if they’re real, if they really do care, or if they’re going to run when it turns rough. It’s so scary. You want to give more of yourself to somebody but it’s hard so these days because you just never know if you’ll get anything back. Don’t we all deserve a bit of love? Love is not something just to be taken, it’s to be given as well. You think you have it all sorted. That they will come around sooner or later. That they will realize what they are doing will only wreck the relationship beyond repair.
You do little things, you stay consistent, but somehow it just doesn’t add up. Maybe the problem is that we except the love to be magical before we become magicians. Or could it be that we’re all just better breakers than builders? We’d rather have feelings we can throw away and ‘love’ that’s disposable.
We grew up reading tales like Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty etc, which lead us to believe that the path of love is a bed of roses, without the thorns. Or blame it on the overdose of the too-good-to-be-true love stories we encounter in films and read in novels. Happily ever after is a myth. And Happily Married is the biggest oxymoron ever.
Reality is rough. You only want what’s easy and that’s why what you get never lasts. Everybody wants to be fought for but nobody is willing to fight. Is this fair? She loves butterflies but she avoids beginnings because she hates to start over. He’s tired but he’s so used to the chase that he’s scared to stop running.
Makes you wonder… Is love really hard, or are people just difficult?
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 12:35 PM UTC
lotus in a mirror
its roots clutch crepuscular slums of dredging mud
deep dark stagnant
thick with worms and milk flower petals
we remain nourished
wisdom expands into darkness
all of us students in the school of shadows
irreverent desires reverent
wise children of light bathe in waters
of cimmerian shade
*** death and regeneration
are celebrated in ******
of feral lucidity
souls are soiled by devils
the bog swallows bones
to bloom seraph's and cherubim floating
the third eye open
a cascading light
secret kiss
a breathless eternity
at the root
flames lick
open orifice
of ripples silk
empyrean *** magicians
weave
hips voodoo
Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 1:09 PM UTC
Witchcraft and wine
it comes so naturally,
and now that you’re mine
I’m going to actually
try my best not to lose it.
If there’s a bomb then I will defuse it.
If there’s an offer I’ll just refuse it.
If there’s a card to play I’m going to use it.
Because you’ve got me under
Your blanket of stars and mysteries,
connecting our scars and histories.
In parked cars both sighing mystically
and back to the park where I was to shy to try anything.
Sorcery and scotch
you put me in a trance.
If you took it down a notch,
I just might stand a chance
that I’m not going to lose my head,
even with my cheeks burning red
getting brighter as you quietly said
“I’ll meet you tonight in our bed.”
Depriving me of slumber
With your healing touch and cosmic skin,
I’m within your clutch and freely giving in.
It’s too much and you have yet to begin,
removing my crutch and cleansing me of each sin.
I was warned of street magicians
and cautioned with tales of gateway drugs.
To not take my eyes off no matter the conditions,
because that’s when they tend to pull rugs.
“If you fall for one,
you’ll fall for them all.”
But this time I’m done,
I think it’s last call.
With your witchcraft and wine,
you make it look so divine.
Aug 15, 2025
Aug 15, 2025 at 7:11 PM UTC
Oh Compelling Magician
Why do your vibes glow?
You're tempting,
Mysterious,
But my brain is just too slow.
To keep with your illusions
And your twinkly fantasy
But I'm compelled to look in further,
To the effervescence,
Your majesty.
You have this way-
Pure,
And Indescribable.
It's magnetizing,
It's happy,
And it's quite unfathomable.
So dear, dear, magician
Please let me come close.
Tell me of your secrets,
Of the mystery of the cosmos.
I promise not to tell-
Your secret's safe with me.
And you'll have my heart forever,
Two magicians to be
Psychically, as one,
For all eternity.
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 1:12 PM UTC
Sometimes when i say
"I'm okay"
I need someone to look me in the eyes,
Hug me tight and say
"I know your not"
And if one day you feel like crying you now know where to come.
Which is why where meant to be the best of friends
We have our disagreements, arguments but who doesn't
Friend love is magical its like a dove come flying out of a magicians hat,
Mysterious and merry.
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 6:12 AM UTC
I know some folks
Some new most old
Keeping logs swirling
It’s a balancing act
Lots of plates spinning
Whoops! Stretch right!
***** fall
Plates crash
Notes fall flat
Oh! Look over there!
Thank you, magicians!
TAH-DAH!
Take a bow,
Sis, bro, boom!
You got the room!
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 4:57 AM UTC
How do we save a country and every citizen?
Is there a big red button to rewind us back in time?
When life wasn't so complicated
When so many magicians didn't rule the land
Handing everyone rocks
and saying they're high quality diamonds
How to solve this ongoing problem
There must be a solution
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 11:52 PM UTC
No time to rest
Destination happiness
Qualifications standout
Society sees magicians
Rise above the haters
A new day to smile
Wear the shoe that fits
Millions have walk the mile
Oct 27, 2009
Oct 27, 2009 at 7:07 PM UTC
I saw you on the news again, aiming lies at civilians
You work like a serf to abhor the herd, which was merged by Lords to bore and encore, like a trap door in a dungeon.
What you earth and managed has got me famished, like the dense or pretentious, the meek and the senseless
And type endings to the finest that cry less, the winos that digress, or the shyest who digest
The plate which was purchased, paid to feed liars by the loudest were poisoned by us rebels running incense to the proudest.
Violently passive when distracted, these masses wreck havoc to have their heads handed to them
Sullen sweet to deter, you lure and reserve what is versed or inferred or implied or implored
Like the goodbyed or complied or the ladies waiting with lunacy lining their luxury gowns
Your disheveled and neat demanding appearance has me locked down with pirates and principle pilots
Dulled sick, they spy less, echo with insist, enlist and exist
As terrorists and presidents
Marked with malice making misfits that were mocked and disgraced, maced or laced by daydreams and magicians to assist beggars behind blueprints constructing islands
Which make slaves in to riots that capture journalists under wide tense
To suspend or impend doom sent hell bent by your priestess
You conduct chaos with fast hints, but quit slow when engaged with your conscience
Touched by divine tricks
Decided and destined, best in business
Prince of the wise man
Captain of the compassionate
Comrades with the crack heads singing anthems in kingdoms
We are heartbreakers painting bad graffiti
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 12:07 AM UTC
Sai Baba is the most Popular Hindu monk
And mother Teresa is the most beloved Christian nun
Both of them almost reached the state of divinity
by serving the humanity And with a lot of religious piety
Some may think Sai Baba is just a magician
And Mother Teresa is merely a nun
Their arguments sound quite fun
because All the nuns and magicians can’t serve the world
on such a grand scale unless they have divine charisma
Both of them have disciples all over the world
They were treated and revered almost like living gods
As humans they might have suffered from some human follies and foibles
But they proved to the world that SERVICE TO HUMANITY IS SERVICE TO GOD
Let us all pray for the two noble souls
Keeping our religious faiths aside
Apr 27, 2011
Apr 27, 2011 at 6:56 AM UTC
The magician's basement was no more glamorous than my own.
Old couches, an untouched television.
One corner, however, holds some curiosities.
Loaded dice, trick decks, handkerchiefs.
Handcuffs, matches, rope, knives.
But his handcuffs hold no illusion, only my thin wrists.
They are hard and cold like any other pair
digging in, no escape.
There was no magic.
He offers to show me a trick.
How easy, I think now, it must be
to fool a seven year old girl.
I was tricked.
He told me once that magicians love the dark.
The black, he said, keeps their secrets hidden.
He told me to close my eyes,
and when I could finally open them,
there was no more light.
He hid me in the dark with the rest of his secrets, the rest of his tricks.
K.A.
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 1:55 AM UTC
This is a Mindalithian
Mindalithians live in marvelous mansions
with mischievous children in Minnesota
Midalithians eat mounds of mac-n-cheese,
meaty meatballs, and magicians
Mindalithians like metallic mushroom
and mega marshmallows
Mindalithians make magnificent magic, meditates mellowly
and marches with mops
this Mindalithian taught me magical meditations
and made me march as a mop
May 18, 2012
May 18, 2012 at 1:54 PM UTC
You ought to know Mr. Mistoffelees!
The Original Conjuring Cat—
(There can be no doubt about that).
Please listen to me and don’t scoff. All his
Inventions are off his own bat.
There’s no such Cat in the metropolis;
He holds all the patent monopolies
For performing suprising illusions
And creating eccentric confusions.
At prestidigitation
And at legerdemain
He’ll defy examination
And deceive you again.
The greatest magicians have something to learn
From Mr. Mistoffelees’ Conjuring Turn.
Presto!
Away we go!
And we all say: OH!
Well I never!
Was there ever
A Cat so clever
As Magical Mr. Mistoffelees!
He is quiet and small, he is black
From his ears to the tip of his tail;
He can creep through the tiniest crack,
He can walk on the narrowest rail.
He can pick any card from a pack,
He is equally cunning with dice;
He is always deceiving you into believing
That he’s only hunting for mice.
He can play any trick with a cork
Or a spoon and a bit of fish-paste;
If you look for a knife or a fork
And you think it is merely misplaced—
You have seen it one moment, and then it is gawn!
But you’ll find it next week lying out on the lawn.
And we all say: OH!
Well I never!
Was there ever
A Cat so clever
As Magical Mr. Mistoffelees!
His manner is vague and aloof,
You would think there was nobody shyer—
But his voice has been heard on the roof
When he was curled up by the fire.
And he’s sometimes been heard by the fire
When he was about on the roof—
(At least we all heard that somebody purred)
Which is incontestable proof
Of his singular magical powers:
And I have known the family to call
Him in from the garden for hours,
While he was asleep in the hall.
And not long ago this phenomenal Cat
Produced seven kittens right out of a hat!
And we all said: OH!
Well I never!
Did you ever
Know a Cat so clever
As Magical Mr. Mistoffelees!
2.5k
. what's the difference between
thieves, and magicians?
not much...
both have quick hands...
and an awake,
yet asleep public communal
presence...
the thief has a public of
the victim,
and the c.c.t.v. "stage"...
the magician?
has a public of the crowd,
and the "dajjal" stage of
a camera replenishing
a concept of:
not enough public...
thieves and magicians are
bedfellows...
you allow one to flourish...
the antithesis will come
along, and in an indiscriminate
fashion...
allow the "magic" / "thieving"
to take place...
what is a magician,
a public figure... compared...
to a thief?
i can't see the difference...
the audience was fooled
by the magician...
the individual was fooled
by the thief...
are they... so much unlike
each other?
magicians can own
a theater stage...
thieves, sometimes... just sometimes...
own the, basic...
pointlessness of english
c.c.t.v. mechanics,
to make police officers make:
a follow-up investigation...
oh, but i have genius
interrogation practices...
no one wants to listen to...
like 10 hours straights of listening
to stefan molyneux...
or 48 hours, sleep deprived...
listening to BBC 24 hour news reels...
that **** could crack anyone...
what the americans did to the Iraqis?
last time i heard...
they blasted the slayer oeuvre
down headphones into their ears...
Americans... feeding conquered
Iraqis with a slayer oeuvre?
BRAVO! BRAVO! ENCORE!
and didn't the encore come?
******* retards...
crows feeding seagull chicks
with sinew and
regurgitated scavenger meat!
if only they played them some
Bach...
i'm pretty sure...
the Iraqis would still be left...
disorientated...
but the American army "interrogators"...
ha ha!
played them the slayer oeuvre!
WEE-TARDS!
anyone... and i mean anyone:
will relieve themselves as being
"tortured": doubly charged up,
and ready to ingest hyper-coffee
in the form of the Luftwaffe tactic
of ingesting amphetamines
(pervitin) -
night-raids... the londoonoirnischt
blitz, sloth krieg...
ya ya yawn...
urgh... burp...
and always... those poncy -
english, gay, aristocratic men...
and their... psychotropic women...
so what's the difference between
a common thief...
and a spectacle magician?
one "owns" cctv footage,
the other owns a stage...
yet both share a: quicksilver
take on, what cannot be
interpreted in either handwriting
or stenography...
hmm...
can't be sure whether
both could be considered legal.
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 12:16 AM UTC
My wife, Karen, was an excellent cook.....
learned from her mother...
Who learned from her mother
My sister-in-law, Marcia, magnificent....
learned from her mother....
Who learned from her mother
My mother, Grace, exceptional...
especially, when it came to "pies."
Learned from her mother....
who learned from her mother....
Well, they had to learn the art from somewhere!
"Magicians in their kitchens", my father-in-law, Larry, often said, when Karen's mother started preparing a festive meal, especially for a holiday such as Christmas or New Year's. (She could prepare a Crown Roast so tender it could be cut with the blade of a toy rubber knife). All three had a common denominator that was learned from their mothers, our "Grandmothers." Very seldom did either of them use a measuring cup, or spoon.
A 'pinch' of this, a 'dash' of that! If the recipe called for a cup of milk, Karen's mother would tip that bottle of milk over the *** count to "two", utter "that's about enough." If a recipe called for a cup of flour, my mother would extend her hand over the bowl, pour the flour into her hand, "that's about right," she'd say. The best apple, or peach pie, you ever tasted. "There's something missing", was Marcia's favorite statement, then reach into the pantry for "whatever."
Passed down from grandmothers, to mothers, to daughters, and to sons as well, we all knew that when we sat down at the table, for however long it would be, we would be in heaven. All because of........
"GRANDMOTHERS!"
.
.
Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 3:11 PM UTC
If lies are things off which they live
And they promise what they cannot give
They may wave her the reddest flag,
but to me, they’re glittering glass.
If magicians they be, I stand gawking;
Turning somethings into nothing,
Hiding pennies up their arms—
But I’m sure they gave me the moon and the stars.
A peek in their magic cupboards,
All their secrets, mercilessly uncovered
And I wish for nothing more
Than to be just a little dumber
To better appreciate my generous lover.
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 11:39 AM UTC
Sometimes when you read a verse
The words hit your soul hard
They make you wonder all night
“How can someone fabricate such a piece of art?”
The feeling each syllable holds
Gets carved into your heart
Words inspiring you to weave some of your own
Which might cause the ordinary populace to feel your warmth
With excitement flooding
You pick the quill only to wonder
Would your quill succeed in
Re-creating the magic
You recently witnessed?
You drop the quill
Not because of self-doubt
But because you just know
That some magic tricks only belong
With svelte magicians
And sometimes you yield sweet joy
In being touched by others
Just witnessing greatness…
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 11:56 AM UTC
Our planets spin in revolutions only
science can explain;
like how meteorologists are magicians
when it comes to describing the rain,
or the way conductors know at which
platform, and at what time, your train will arrive,
or how doctors can look you up and down
and pin point, with accuracy, where you’re in pain,
like a miller creating silk wholemeal flour
from coarse capsules of beige and brown grain,
or like experienced pilots landing again
in LAX after 7 hours in the same seat in the same plane,
or how writers can sit down at keys
and make them dance into Steinbeck, Hemingway or the holy Mark Twain.
Last night you escaped early because the girl
you wanted to leave with left moments
before you did; and now you’ll be back
in bed checking if your horoscopes match
and if your love compatibility is worthy of a
‘I’m in love’ badge.
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 12:14 PM UTC
This is a world of pure magic.
Nothing more or less than Hogwarts I'd say.
It might sound abstract but
Even the most basic function of life
-Breathing, is a magic which is
Much beyond our understanding.
All of us are magicians
And that too, without a wand.
Or just maybe,
We're magic.
Created by
Another magician.
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 4:19 AM UTC