Writing Prompt
Writings
Writings
POEM STARTER
Enchantment and Mystery
Write a poem, in any style, that comes to mind with these two words.
Writings
_The air here hums with a silent pull,_
_Not magic, but something far more cruel._
_A pact unspoken, a vow undone,_
_Where the earth eats secrets one by one._
__
_The rivers don’t flow, they claw their way,_
_Through soil that sings of a darker day._
_And the trees are not guardians, but sentries who see,_
_The sins of the living, the price of the free._
__
_Tene’s heart beats beneath restless sto...
I want to open the door,
The door to enchantment—
Where every right step
A path of mystery opens.
Down the rose-covered roads,
Animals and fairies would scurry;
Bright magic before me
In a forest so adoring.
In the midst of the night,
Sounds of sweet sing
From the bubbly sea
And the swaying wind....
What is mystery and why is it such a secret?
Well you see, mystery is the power of the unknown.
It’s not understanding something because maybe we just don’t believe.
Why does the Mona Lisa smile?
Why does Mona Lisa have the power to look at you each way you move in the picture?
Why do people go missing in the Bermuda triangle and they’re never seen again?
How was the collosseum built so...
They escaped down the narrow hallway dimly lit with candles emerging from the walls.
A powerful force blew past them and into the wall to their right. Just inches from death, they began sprinting even faster and swung a left.
Into the library, they bolted up the spiral staircase enveloped in vines and dissapeared amongst the towering shelves of books.
After an intense search, they finally stumb...
I drank and danced
the night away.
With the skeletons,
I could not sway.
Till the dawn rose up,
with blood in its teeth.
My soul no longer a virgin,
old faiths eclipse beneath...
I slept with midnight,
a corpse now, in the light.
Sex and agony painted
across my skin.
Those wounds growing
deeper with every new sin.
Upon my deathbed I
memorized the sky.
Until the first kiss from death...
Children ask me "Do you believe in magic?"
They already know the answer, but it does them no harm to hear it over and over.
Yes.
I believe in a summer storm spending itself over the water,
Forks of light ripping through the sky, leaving the world scrubbed and the air perfumed with salt.
I believe in the last notes of a violin, played alone, when the only light comes from a crescent moon, a secre...
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