Here are some magic poems. You’ll find bewitching ballads, eerie epics, and alluring lyrics. Enjoy!
Dark Magic, a poem
by Art Black
You study the ancient remains
of forgotten taboo literature
and find in it hidden magical potentials.
You take fragments of little bird bones,
hair from a rejected lover, foam from a rabid dog,
an owl’s left eye, and a bit of your own blood —
You mix them all together, and burn the heap
ever so slowly, so it smolders into dark flames;
it’s then that you see it, the shadow on the wall.
Wine spills and trickles off the table,
the wind whispers magic and leaves shiver,
A rose in the corner begins to glow, to glimmer.
Magic is taken, never borrowed —
and you’ve maxed out on your card;
some where a dull club is thumping.
You’re frightened now, so you carry the knife
ready to strike, but at what? You can’t say,
maybe at that shadow on the wall.
There’s a magical flicker on your display screen,
old hieroglyphs fading in and out of the static;
meanwhile fax after fax streams through —
It’s a message, all written in an ancient script,
occult, cryptic and long suppressed;
with sweaty palms you pour over it.
You decide you want to sweep it aside,
but the genie’s left the magic bottle,
he sees that shadow on the wall.
Hermes lurks by your window, tapping gently;
Thoth clears his throat to get your attention;
you’re knee deep in it now, and there’s no going back.
The use of magic, black and profane,
the power of the gods, the destinies of man,
a connection with the dead you can never sever.
The spirits of old have come out to play
and it’s you who’ve let them in, for didn’t you know?
That’s YOUR shadow on the wall.
Love Magic, a poem
by Claire Voyant
a visual brand of magic.
The planets come together
in just the right constellation —
as you said they would.
It brings on compulsions,
It’s the tip of a well aimed arrow
dripped in sweet poison, sinking
into my heart, and making me yours.
To Bleed Magic, a poem
by Abra Cadabra
Time stands still
and the dream extends itself
as they come for you.
exotic beings that offer only pleasure
and then sweet complete — annihilation.
Feathered and adorned, nubile,
clad in only beautiful and bizarre tattoos;
succubi and masters of their art —
Perfect forms that burns from within;
they reach out to you, gently,
with a touch that bleeds magic.
Every fiber of your soul
is a string they pull upon
as they get nearer and nearer.
They magically drag you onward
toward a world as utterly cloying
as it is lewd — oblivion perfected.
Cult of Magic, a poem
by Al Chemy
The oldest cult is the one of magic.
Earth, air, sky, and sea,
Each with a legion of spirits.
Night strikes you with terror,
Mysteries shroud in ritual and drama.
Heaven and earth and the underworld;
You must make the connexion,
You must recite the spells,
And this mummy will arise
Write the spells everywhere
on the sides of the coffin
on the walls of the tomb.
Insert the amulets
on the walls,
on the floor
and even on the ceiling
Keep away the spirits you don’t need,
attract the ones you do.
A roll of papyrus tucked here and there
inscribed with the rights spells;
all this will surely help
Make drawings of a solar disk
supported by its ka.
Arms of life will rise out of a fetish tree
Isis and Nephthys will salute you
the mornings stars as baboons will greet you.
Not with a club the heart is broken,
Nor with a stone;
A whip, so small you could not see it,
To lash the magic creature
Till it fell.
— Emily Dickinson