I am but a sorceress of the night,
wielding rhyme within my write,
as I pen another transcending poem,
while I let my wicked heart roam.
With just a flick and a whispered word—
no need for broom or black cat stirred—
I transmute silence into poetic gold,
within this poetry I do now unfold.
Knowing how to wield my pen,
crafting such clever poetry again,
filling up reams of this paper,
bathed in the light of this taper.
As I turn mere ink into my blood,
forever drowning in the flood
of the verse I cannot refuse,
left here, listening to my muse.
For this is the alchemy of rhyme—
an ancient art from a forgotten time.
As I am but a poet, forever tragic,
left here alone within this poemagic.
Powerfully penned, LDF. An incredible write my friend. Appreciate you.
Damian
There is something truly magical and mesmerizing about verse, and you’ve captured that concept perfectly.