Tag: magic

The Elven Fire

Shaneise, a little birdie told me of your b-day.
There is so much good stuff for her to say.
You’re the only one shes ever connected.
So deeply, as if by universe, you were selected,
And your fashion sense does apparently slay.

So just like her sister’s poem before you,
You get a very special rhyming tale too
A tale of a woman so natural and wise
One who helps others in a state of demise
Adding yet another Gryffindor to the slew

This tale will be of a magical woman
That was bound to no mortal man
She came from the land of dragonshire
And to be a fashion model she did aspire
To show the world her skin ever so tan

But little did she know about her past
Of how much magic her line had amassed
900 years of magic concentrated down
Now triggering the final countdown
To the cleansing of the great Belfast

1000 years ago the great seer saw
Images of when the land would thaw
‘Tis when the great evil will be free
To corrupt from the land to the sea
But he wouldn’t be any ole outlaw

As Shaneise was born way too soon,
Another born to an Aquarian moon,
She was left to a fragile single mother
But then she was passed to another
As the sun rose on a hot day in June

Taken away before she could learn
About the inner magics that burn
So she led a eccentric girl’s unique life
Accompanied by lots of grief and strife
From a mother that was greatly stern

The ragged clothes she always wore
Greatly affected her to her very core
So every day she plotted her escape
For a life that she could reshape
And by that she absolutely swore

One day she saw an opened door
An escape she could easily score
For there was a call for females tall
To model in Belfast and bare it all
This was what she was made for

She arrives to the Celtic city
Looking like grace and beauty
The city was sprawling and grand
Ready for molding at her hand
And not ready for one so pretty

From here the story gets good
In a land where evil once stood
A pretty little wood elf now resides
In fashion she makes great strides
Magically weaving cloak and hood

But then a strange thing occurred
When she read an ancient word
Her unseen runes went neon
Her magic now fully turned on
Her vision blurry and words slurred

The power rushed through her core
Dropping her to the cold hard floor
She rose with rune tattoos glowing
Strength and power now overflowing
The elf is now ready for the new war

As the shockwaves rocked the nine hells
And penetrated the space-time parallels
Lord Dughall new the time had come
And sounded the demon war drum
Into Shaneise flooded ancient spells

The Lord Mayor unleashed the nether
The tear brought dark, stormy weather
The people of Belfast dropped to knees
Uttering prayers in repeats of threes
But Shaneise pulled them all together

As unimaginable evil rapidly descended
The entire town she fervently defended
earth, air, fire, water, and aether merged
So that the horrible evils could be purged
In the beautiful lands that were contended

Lord Dughall descended to the battle field
With is demon enchanted sword and shield
Shaneise’s power was almost depleted
But the Lord Mayor was overly conceited
The young elf refused to get herself killed

With her strength now almost expended
She lifter her head with her arms extended
With her last breath, she dug deep within
And the runes lifted off of her elven skin
The explosion had time and space bended

As evil was defeated and nether closed
Shaneise’s body lay lifeless and exposed
But the story wasn’t over for the heroine
The girl from Gryffindor had narrowed in
Primrose came and her life was reimposed

A Cold Winter’s Night

Once upon a cold winter’s night
Snow began to fall ever so slight
The moon is full and ever so bright
On this night there is no fight

They come from all corners of the map
To connect and with the energies to tap
Where the ley lines come to overlap
Knowledge received will fill the gap

Knowledge of the gods to be spread
Secrets that accompany the dead
What knowledge was in their head?
What words could have been said?

We may never know of their demise
But to study their ruins we’d be wise
Who knows what profound treasure lies
Completely hidden from the world’s eyes

The Regression

Let me tell you a fantastic story
An adventure of magic and glory
A saga about a necromancer of night
A despicable creature named Dwight
But no elves dressed whorey

Now that the backstory is set
Into my past regression we get
To get deep into this trance
I thought of the walrus dance
And an ice cream quartet

As the higher vibrations begin
A blue-ish purple portal sets in
As I step into the watery portal
I realize it’s actually a wormhole
Which dropped me near a war pen

I soon realize that I am in a war
Without pause, I loudly roar
And rush to a seven foot orc
Putting my magics to work
And then the ground up and tore

A truce between races was struck
But soon we ran out of good luck
After days of stillness and peace
Hatred was on a fast increase
And then came back all the muck

The evil Dwight raised souls from hell
To pile the dead into his evil sex cell
His fetish: deformed toes and necrophilia
Spanned across the human and reptilila
But served him in his sinister spell

Incantations charged his man seed
To create an enhanced undead breed
One that can not easily be stopped
Thus the great war he did concoct
Only for his insatiable sexual need

As the undead horde descended
The humans and elves pretended
That they were hereby oblivious
To he who was ever so devious
And left the walls undefended

As the mighty castle was overran
So started phase one of the plan
Unknown to Dwight, we had planted
Many boxes of disposium enchanted
Before the main undead rush began

As the dreaded creatures got near
I gripped my staff’s crystal sphere
“Ek tu grok skret mi posk tuuk tet”
I uttered. then staff and ground met
Channeling the entire atmosphere

As my staff forcefully detonated
A shockwave rapidly emanated
A chain reaction of disposium
Created an undead symposium
As the land became consecrated

I knew then why I regressed here
To awaken inside me the sightseer
The remembering my days as a sage
Days of me being the great war mage
So that I may elevate to a higher tier

The Magus and the Witch

She draws power from the moon
She’ll dance to a wicked tune
And push him to his upper limit
Then cast spells. Candles dim lit.
With her touch he will swoon

The wild feminine of the witch
Satisfies the magus’s sexual itch
His muse. His inspirational bae
A love poem that will not sway
This is the power of the witch

The snakes cometh out to see
The high vibrations, that of she
Like insects flight into the light
Her charm he can not truly fight
But, likewise, the magus is her he

For all the power she possesses
Her love she ultimately confesses
For in him she finds solid ground
And fight for him to be around
To him she moves and coalesces

The Nightwalker and the Wolf

Esha, with your flowing brown curls,
You’re one of those vampire girls.
The solid rock that gives support.
Hugs from you don’t fall short.
You’re more precious than pearls.

Your beauty rivals that of Aphrodite.
Your sister thinks you’re quite mighty,
Even if you don’t really see all that.
You got Gryffindor from the sorting hat,
Due to your bravery and loyalty

For your birthday, a poetic fantasy.
One of wolf and vampire valency.
Stories of vampire and wolf abound,
But we shall spin the genre around.
One that ends in spiritual amnesty.

It all started when Jupiter came,
To curse the mortal by full name.
For Atticus Marcus had killed,
And his sins were to be billed.
And only he was truly to blame.

In all his hatred for the facades,
He had stolen from the gods,
And killed innocent people.
In the street and the steeple,
A curse was unanimous by nods.

As Jupiter carried out the curse,
Atticus’ body became perverse.
The man had become a beast,
But he was still alive at least.
Lonely lands he would traverse.

After 300 years, he got another chance,
When he met a vampire from France.
By accident they fell deeply in love.
The night walker became his dove,
As they entered a unholy romance.

For another 500 years they tried,
But couldn’t leave the other’s side.
Each night they would lie together,
Dreading when they cross the nether,
And their existence be nullified.

One day seemingly out of the blue,
Their predicament was given a clue.
Came the prophecy of the soul fire,
A pairing that would become dire,
What night stalker and the wolf do.

The prophecy tells of a great shift.
Two bloods flowing into the rift.
Activating the ancient glyph wards,
To cool the planet going forwards,
And slowing the continental drift.

Fulling the prophecy was the quest,
And they vowed to do their very best.
Years were spent finding the place.
Even using satellites in orbital space,
But eventually they found the nest.

Hidden deep under glacial ice sheets,
They found a sequence that repeats.
They knew they had found the rift,
So they packed up and made swift.
They traveled with a group of elites.

They made their way into the ice cave,
So that all of humanity they could save.
Upon entering the inner corridor,
A sign read “chamber of the sorcerer”.
They saw images of an ancient conclave.

With glyphs in their super human sight,
They move in closer to perform the rite.
As daggers slide across their hands,
They read the ancient commands.
Causing the glyphs to emanate light.

A beam of light shoots into the sky.
The wolf is no longer the bad guy.
As the CO2 is absorbed into the light,
The event is a spectacle of eye sight,
And catches that of Jupiter’s eye.

As global cooling is set in motion,
Jupiter has one hell of a notion,
To release the man from the beast
From his curse he shall be released,
And to a god be given the promotion.

Atticus now redeemed and thus free
Would see the heavens ever so lovely.
With Esha by his purely human side,
In with the gods they will now slide.
Once a beast, now with spiritual amnesty.