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"wizards" poems
Young and petite, Yet fearless and courageous, In Armour, As dark as the night, With sword, As bright as the stars, She will fight, Demons and wizards. Broken and cold, She'll gladly take the scars.
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Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 11:11 PM UTC
The Female Knight
What reason do we have to be angry. What reason do we have to curse the stars and all the threads that bind them. Who's fault apart from ours is it, that this is the hell that we have placed ourselves amidst. Every point in our lives, lying like a checkpoint, glowing like a streetlamp in the dead of night. At the feet of these golden warm, welcoming lights there lay a crossroad. And we foolish children feeble in heart and mind fumble without a further thought. We follow our hearts and we follow them into deep into the disguising dark. - Adventure was the death of us, antagonizing. Adventure was heartache, agony as evil wizards warped our worlds until we were weaning. It wasn't too late before the brazen beasts had burdened our lives with ever more brutality. Wolves hungry for the hearts of men, walking on hind legs to better hinder us with horrors. This world is beautiful with wonder, but it's wonders are like lights upon the Lophiiformes head. Bright, beautiful and inviting But lead with haste into the jaws of oblivion, well hidden amongst the dark. N.H.
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Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 10:15 AM UTC
Adventure
Pearl Avenue runs past the high-school lot, Bends with the trolley tracks, and stops, cut off Before it has a chance to go two blocks, At Colonel McComsky Plaza. Berth's Garage Is on the corner facing west, and there, Most days, you'll find Flick Webb, who helps Berth out. Flick stands tall among the idiot pumps- Five on a side, the old bubble-head style, Their rubber elbows hanging loose and low. One's nostrils are two S's, and his eyes An E and O. And one is squat, without A head at all-more of a football type. Once Flick played for the high-school team, the Wizards. He was good: in fact, the best. In '46 He bucketed three hundred ninety points, A county record still. The ball loved Flick. I saw him rack up thirty-eight or forty In one home game. His hands were like wild birds. He never learned a trade, he just sells gas, Checks oil, and changes flats. Once in a while, As a gag, he dribbles an inner tube, But most of us remember anyway. His hands are fine and nervous on the lug wrench. It makes no difference to the lug wrench, though. Off work, he hangs around Mae's Luncheonette. Grease-gray and kind of coiled, he plays pinball, Smokes those thin cigars, nurses lemon phosphates. Flick seldom says a word to Mae, just nods Beyond her face toward bright applauding tiers Of Necco Wafers, Nibs, and Juju Beads.
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8.4k
Ex-Basketball Player
She was always Simply            A               Lock                       Away; all they needed was the Key. Those who found it Lost it soon enough too. But those who fashioned it, themselves Without deterring from the task Without trying to replicate a lost key With nothing but a egami euqinu In their minds Of what the lock looked like And what the key should look like Only those few, Few, very few Wizards who toiled to work their magic Succeeded. And they never lost their key They necklaced it around their heart A symbol that was now etched into their existence Entangled in the life of the veins That this heart so solely depended on Becoming one with them Those were the lucky ones The others, the ones she wished mattered Were still only searching Searching Meandering Probing Ferreting Still only looking for A key that had once been used And whose lock was now Rust rusting rusted With time. Still searching But never creating, of course Always only searching Until they found it         And then lost it again.
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Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 2:48 AM UTC
Lock and Key
Ang sarap hindi na bumalik sa kung saan ka nanggaling. Ang lupang nagbigay sa akin ng kunting ligaya ngunit puno ng masasakit na alaala. Ilang luha ang nilabas nitong hapong mga mata? Ilang impit at sakit nitong pusong nagdurusa? Haggang kailan ako maggitiis? hanggang kailan ito matitikis? Mga tao sa paligid ay mapanuri, mapanghusga't mapanglait. Unti-unti kang sinasakal, bawat mali'y laging maturingan. Pangako ko sa Maykapal na gawa nila'y babaunin at pati buto ko sa libingan ay hindi sila malimutan. Itong kirot ewan ko hanggang kailan ito, gagawin ko na lang itong isang malaking hamon at inspirasyon. @Wizards_Pen
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Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 12:36 PM UTC
L A B A N
Writing a story on a topic, Hazing away at the microsoapics, I write stories that aren’t meant to be fun, Just the basic humdrum. Reality is my Inspiration, No matter the mood I’m in. Dragons and Wizards are to be left on the bookshelves, As I run to work, And meet my colleagues for a day of writing reality. We walk the world in actuality, And see people with all different vitality. People of all different ideas of reality. They speak, I listen, I ask, And they answer, And we both learn about reality together. I then write what I heard, Tell what I saw, And let the ideas fly like birds. I've seen all people of life, I've heard many of there trifes. I laughed at their victories, I cry at their lost, And I hear all their vivid histories. I write all types of reality, From the memories of all different types of vitalities. And as I write about how reality unfurls, I write about the greatest dreams of this world
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Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 11:07 PM UTC
A Journalistic Approach
A little white fluff on a green stem. The green stem blends with the surrounding grass. When I wanted my dreams to come true my eight year old breath would blow the white fluff. The sun would make the flurries sparkle and dance in the summer breeze. It truly was magical. I believed in fairies and wizards. I remember the day my uncle got upset because I blew magic all over his perfectly green lawn. My uncle informed me that apparently the fluff was a **** not magic at all. There is an innocence to not knowing. The part of me that believed in magic and princesses disappeared. I guess people have two choices in life They can see a **** Or they can see magic.
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Apr 20, 2017
Apr 20, 2017 at 4:55 AM UTC
dandelion
If only things were as easy as 1,2,3 A,B,C Like elementary Arithmetic and spelling Simple science Gym was always stunning Recess was revered The swings were sacred Writing on the jungle gym Laughing Running off with friends to play Being enchanted by the smell of coffee and trees Magic every second you breathe Simply because you were somewhere you weren't supposed to be Close your eyes Now what do you see? Darkness? Dots of color? Phantoms of light? Remember when you saw dragons Wizards Whole worlds enchanting When you walked people said it seemed like you were dancing Remember when you were happy? There was no worry about what to do What are you going to be? You had your whole life Figure out what to do Well what now? What's your plan? Too bad Too late It's not elementary None of your dreams can come true You're completely *******
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Oct 2, 2017
Oct 2, 2017 at 12:45 AM UTC
woohoo
For the readers Nerds, geeks, book lovers Wizards, Hobbits, and Tributes, believing in unseeable lands. Minds grow restless to travel through the fluttering pages of these paper portals, Bookmark today and visit another version of reality. Brave enough to love people they can’t see. People they will never meet People who would understand them The way no one else does Smart enough to know this world isn't worth staying Dystopian lands often favorable To our own growing demise Wholeheartedly believing in the fictional and loving the unreal. Attempts to turn the nonfiction fiction To self hypnotize away today's chaos You must have one hell of a heart to seek refuge in another's imagination, and be able come back to reality when your done and try to to love this world.
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Nov 8, 2018
Nov 8, 2018 at 1:42 PM UTC
For the readers
I'm a little unicorn, Short and cute. Here in my magic horn, And here is my hoof. I like to drink my chocolate milk, And chew on silk. I **** evil wizards, And chase the lizards. Because I'm magic, Isn't my story tragic? I was left behind from the ark, And almost killed by a shark, (My evil nemesis) Until I met the pegasus, And flew back to modern day life, Only to see my cousins killed with knives, Oh what a world it is! How long was I gone? Can I forgive? ... No. **** EVERYONE WILL MY MAGIC HORN OF JUSTICE!"**
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Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 4:25 PM UTC
I'm a Little Unicorn
Caught in rapture from your Witchy spell Balanced emotions have gone to Hell Was careful but I still fell Kiss me please I won't tell Immune I thought these Wizard lips Enchanted by those Witchy hips In your valley I will dip Releasing magic from my fingertips I must've drank your Witches brew Thoughts of you makes me drool On my mind is only you Doing things I'd never do I too am dark I share the night My magic hasn't reached its height Bring the spark I will ignite Full potential of this Wizards might We can ride on your broom Our silhouette tattoos the moon For black cat there is room Cross our path meet your doom I'll run the West you run the East Draw the signs..Mark the beast I'll be War..You be Peace All feel our power when this spell unleashed..
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Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 6:15 PM UTC
Spell
If all you want is an image Just imagine this A man to your liking with features so striking A man you can’t resist If all you want is emotion Just emote to me And we’ll start pretending That love’s never-ending And happy we will be Mold me into any shape you want Hold me, roll me Shuffle, cut and fold me I’ll be yours for life Slash me, bash me Slice and dice and mash me I’ll be the perfect man For the perfect wife Let me be your Frankenstein Let me be the love you pine I’ll be yours and you will be mine Let me be your Frankenstein Draw up a blueprint Make out a plan Tell me what you need A groovy assortment Of all the important Things that you can’t see A wizards brain A heart of gold A fiery touch And I’ll be sold So if you find him Bring him here I’ll pay to rent him Every year Don’t be jive And don’t be bold For every story Ever told Ends up somewhat Not so clear So if you find him Bring him here! Searching woman look no more You have found your dream I’m worth two plus three times four Let me join your team You can see that I’m the one I’m just what you need So I ask no fee save one Let me, Let me be Let me be your Frankenstein Let me be the love you pine I’ll be yours and you will be mine Let me be your Frankenstein
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Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 5:05 PM UTC
Let Me Be Your Frankenstein
One star lit night I sat down to write, A Little short poem about dragons and kites Though In nature they do differ still the similarities remain, One’s found in a fairy tale adventure the other in a child's small hand to entertain.   One has sharp teeth and a mouth that spits fire, One holds a boys dream of a future aviator to inspire. They both have long tails, though ones lined with ribbons the other lined with scales And magic wings that lift them up higher over the highlands and vales While catching a ride on the back of a strong wind gale One lives in a cave and the other a toy box, One sleeps on a rock and the other hangs from tree tops. One’s tamed by the pull of a kite runner’s string, The other steered by a dragon rider straddled between its wings. One’s made from myth, legend, folklore and fear, The other made from the design and blueprint of an inventor's mind's idea. Ones made of sinews, muscles, flesh and bones, The others made of a cross wooden stick frame over which cloth is stretched, and sewn. Ones enchanted by wizards and knighted by kings, The other’s to cheer up a child's heart and fulfill all his wishes and dreams. And now out of my head my subjects take flight, Now I do find there's no more to write, Of the different and likes between dragons and kites.
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Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 1:26 AM UTC
Of Dragons and Kites
Wizards, witches, and warlocks Charge nurses really, Isn't that ionic And yes I really do think Much more intelligentsia than wet nurses But everything has a time and place Expressionless Gene Wilder And warlords destroy beauty and intelligentsia chasing a lost or stolen dream
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Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 1:04 PM UTC
Ivory Towers
Father and Mother, and Me, Sister and Auntie say All the people like us are We, And every one else is They. And They live over the sea, While We live over the way, But-would you believe it?—They look upon We As only a sort of They! We eat pork and beef With cow-horn-handled knives. They who gobble Their rice off a leaf, Are horrified out of Their lives; While they who live up a tree, And feast on grubs and clay, (Isn’t it scandalous? ) look upon We As a simply disgusting They! We shoot birds with a gun. They stick lions with spears. Their full-dress is un-. We dress up to Our ears. They like Their friends for tea. We like Our friends to stay; And, after all that, They look upon We As an utterly ignorant They! We eat kitcheny food. We have doors that latch. They drink milk or blood, Under an open thatch. We have Doctors to fee. They have Wizards to pay. And (impudent heathen!) They look upon We As a quite impossible They! All good people agree, And all good people say, All nice people, like Us, are We And every one else is They: But if you cross over the sea, Instead of over the way, You may end by (think of it!) looking on We As only a sort of They!
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3.2k
We And They
Trees I know nothing about them but, they mean everything to me Each one a branching group of wizards waving their wands up to the sky Inviting the magic of inspiration
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Sep 27, 2021
Sep 27, 2021 at 10:51 AM UTC
Trees
i'd like to live in my mind of fantasy lands and overgrown worlds bustling and shaking with life in all forms of giant snakes that zoom through the air of witches and wizards in constant war of golden knights and fair-headed dames princesses wielding swords off to battle and magic coursing through my veins my blood is liquid dreams and my heart beats to the melody of a lullabye oh how i wish to live in my head untouched by the grime of time unburdened by the weight of my reality unbroken unburied.
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Jan 28, 2021
Jan 28, 2021 at 7:18 AM UTC
unburied
Almost ruined it I think she's worthy of a contract my bad you put up with my nonsense. But I'm calm since you entered in my lineup-- and Common Sense says how about you Come Close Never mind the chill from the shoulder I would give ya I was younger immature I was failing all my chores and I thought nothing more than when you gave me my allowance and I squirted on your flowers you're my flower girl But instead of just waking down the isle baby, you on my mind fighting crime and my trust issues Not limited to one type of style, she got a closet full of weapons-- no misuse Margiela couldn't handle all this fire power your glass pumps on the dance floor Cinderella so before I seize the moment on this final hour let me start by being true to your Pink Matter.   See I'ma always try to steal a smile or take your heart so I'm trynna be your criminal no subliminal I said I want you front and center with your melanin skin like Tia or Tamera I've got my grove back I'm feeling kind of Stella got me quitting all my games Michael Jordan after wizards I've finally taken interest so I saying what we doing with this, you finally got me so I'm saying: I do.
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Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 12:49 AM UTC
Wedding Vows (Spoken Word)
Can peanuts breathe within their shell? When they’re eaten, might they go to hell? Or are they, truly, lifeless nuts No sadness, madness, or stagnant ruts Perhaps the peanut has a king A mighty ruler that makes the law Or perhaps the peanut has a queen A tender mother without flaw Who knows, the peanut could be grand With magical tales of Peanut land Castles, Wizards and Warrior hunts Pursuing their foes, Macadamia Nuts! Galloping upon their steeds Peanut’s charge! Peanuts Breathe! Screams so loud the birds doth fall Pulverizing the enemy’s wall Now the Peanuts have an “in” They focus their gaze upon the **** Hoarding together & funneling thru Macadamia nuts receiving a chill Piercing shells for 3 long days Injured Peanuts in gruesome ways Mournful moans of agony Numbers declined, so tragically Is this the end of Peanut land? Why couldn’t the Peanut still be grand? “Get up I say and finish your quest!” The Peanuts did and fought their best Above the smoke, white flags flew The Peanuts emerged victorious! Striding thru familiar front gates Returning home, so glorious! Perhaps, in fact, this story is true That Peanuts breathe like me and you But one might wonder of Peanut land… How Peanuts ride with no hands And if you truly wish to know How Peanuts talk and Peanuts grow Open your ears and do come hither “Duh! The Peanuts have a Wizard!” Oh, the tales and jokes they tell One day, they’ll be on TV Perhaps in films known by all Like, “Harry Peanut,” aired by BBC Or, maybe they are just meant for our bars And smashed and spread upon your bread… But next time you eat this salt sprinkled treat, Ponder, “am I sure this Peanut is dead?” - BPW
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May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 4:31 PM UTC
The Land of Peanuts
Can peanuts breathe within their shell? When they’re eaten, might they go to hell? Or are they, truly, lifeless nuts No sadness, madness, or stagnant ruts Perhaps the peanut has a king A mighty ruler that makes the law Or perhaps the peanut has a queen A tender mother without flaw Who knows, the peanut could be grand With magical tales of Peanut land Castles, Wizards and Warrior hunts Pursuing their foes, Macadamia Nuts! Galloping upon their steeds Peanut’s charge! Peanuts Breathe! Screams so loud the birds doth fall Pulverizing the enemy’s wall Now the Peanuts have an “in” They focus their gaze upon the **** Hoarding together & funneling thru Macadamia nuts receiving a chill Piercing shells for 3 long days Injured Peanuts in gruesome ways Mournful moans of agony Numbers declined, so tragically Is this the end of Peanut land? Why couldn’t the Peanut still be grand? “Get up I say and finish your quest!” The Peanuts did and fought their best Above the smoke, white flags flew The Peanuts emerged victorious! Striding thru familiar front gates Returning home, so glorious! Perhaps, in fact, this story is true That Peanuts breathe like me and you But one might wonder of Peanut land… How Peanuts ride with no hands And if you truly wish to know How Peanuts talk and Peanuts grow Open your ears and do come hither “Duh! The Peanuts have a Wizard!” Oh, the tales and jokes they tell One day, they’ll be on TV Perhaps in films known by all Like, “Harry Peanut,” aired by BBC Or, maybe they are just meant for our bars And smashed and spread upon your bread… But next time you eat this salt sprinkled treat, Ponder, “am I sure this Peanut is dead?” - BPW
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Glitters and red meters givers and received perceivers usher the gift of illusionary display vision all the aspects of reality Signal the surreal posts on trees yank and spotlight my dreams walk and split the glass panels wagon us from societal ice Glitters and red masks course every vein of our being pour the red wine and misplace protrude every nautical sense Read my palm, contact the wizard grab my sight, take me to the moon contactless,eventful and tasteful contactless, easy and resourceful
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Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 4:49 AM UTC
The Glitter of the Red Wizards
I tried to make my favorite tea today The one you introduced to me But now that you're gone It doesn't taste so sweet
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Nov 7, 2021
Nov 7, 2021 at 8:03 AM UTC
Whirling Wizards
Train Sets were always the coolest gift I mean, I never got one but that's what the movies say now I ride trains daily monotonous jumble of commute.work.commute. sleep. a ******    brains get swallowed whole without my morning Joe but there was a time... ...there was a time when I rode that Polar Express to bliss         crazed off hot chocolate    golden ticket in hand then I slipped on ice caps instead of sleeping on beaches dreaming up Mad Hatter candy mogels then Tom Hank's voice was the patter of reindeer and magic was cast by wizards    not scientists A White Beard wise as Gandolf & Dumbledore    specked with canyons of God would laugh jolly into a nation         into a season    into that dusting galaxy of a child's eye that beard    holy and revered would laugh humanity into a rattled world slipping down chimneys it would leave propaganda of hope in the form of trainsets No, I never got one      but I loved that beard         and the silver bells on its sleigh they are voiceless now but I keep them for their shine I miss those days                  ...sometimes... I think about them on my train rides wishing I had a different destination
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Dec 27, 2012
Dec 27, 2012 at 3:10 PM UTC
White Beard
wizards of words relish silence. blazing stars cry out light. butterfly thinks immortality can wait. Lord of silence oozes confidence. sweet nothings are most eloquent.
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Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 9:36 PM UTC
Five
Inside of my body Amidst death and poison a virus lurks in every puddle, pumping blood that flushes my tired heart like the river Styx Amidst this battlezone that is my failing being lies a secret, sleeping The cells swim by They are rarer now like precious gems the factories of my fighting body produced like diamonds born amidst feverish forges within a toxic mine The gems, they call them T-cells, are now suicide bombers converted daily by the whisper of necromancy They call this hex *** a war against your own treasures Yet my T-cells are more, runes blazing mystic and glowing, antigen sorcery that wards against failing Amidst the 300,000 +sleeper cells that abandoned my cause Insurgence bulges with nightmare The cells clamour growing with the whispers of past victims now roped into the mystic chains, the wizards call it RNA, that bind us An ironic family of ghosts who live in each other "junk DNA" My body is no junk; instead a treasure - what do they say one man's trash? My body an amalgamation 30 years magic growing twisted like thorny vines that must consume their helpless host My T-cells inception Worlds within me the "JUNK" of lovers past becomes entangled in archives carved in my bones. Amidst recipes of a poison I cannot trace, I am ironically linked into a family of ancestors whose cries beat in my still working heart The drum of the long fallen crying for justice ...My blood Our blood. chains enmeshing ....ghosts I will never know Now parts of me that lie sleeping in Trojan horses, all my own.
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Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 6:16 AM UTC
Blood is Thicker than T-Cells
Inside of my body Amidst death and poison a virus lurks in every puddle, pumping blood that flushes my tired heart like the river Styx Amidst this battlezone that is my failing being lies a secret, sleeping The cells swim by They are rarer now like precious gems the factories of my fighting body produced like diamonds born amidst feverish forges within a toxic mine The gems, they call them T-cells, are now suicide bombers converted daily by the whisper of necromancy They call this hex *** a war against your own treasures Yet my T-cells are more, runes blazing mystic and glowing, antigen sorcery that wards against failing Amidst the 300,000 +sleeper cells that abandoned my cause Insurgence bulges with nightmare The cells clamour growing with the whispers of past victims now roped into the mystic chains, the wizards call it RNA, that bind us An ironic family of ghosts who live in each other "junk DNA" My body is no junk; instead a treasure - what do they say one man's trash? My body an amalgamation 30 years magic growing twisted like thorny vines that must consume their helpless host My T-cells inception Worlds within me the "JUNK" of lovers past becomes entangled in archives carved in my bones. Amidst recipes of a poison I cannot trace, I am ironically linked into a family of ancestors whose cries beat in my still working heart The drum of the long fallen crying for justice ...My blood Our blood. chains enmeshing ....ghosts I will never know Now parts of me that lie sleeping in Trojan horses, all my own.
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