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by Brian Francis

Runes and rhymes and fires smoke
sands drawn out, a careful rite
enticing ancient powers to come
Magic cast on the darkest night

circles chant and wander around
words as old as the sound of birds
they cast almost a warbling sound
round upon round of ancient words

Flames of blue and red and white
dance in the eyes a billowing flash
An energy builds with the final rite
Falling silent prostrate on the ground


Posted on 11/08/2017
Copyright © 2018 Brian Francis

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Laura Doom on 11/21/17 at 07:44 PM

I tried that when my phone crashed; since than, all my texts have morphed into runes. I guess human nature has lost touch with its mother.

Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 11/22/17 at 05:39 PM

Bewitching...Happy belated Halloween Brian.

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