PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Fifty miles from any mere mortal, evil or kind,

In the Mountains' peaks and the clouds' crisp chill,

There stands a Tower of ancient stone and midnight glow,

Built by The Magic Man, who haunts there still.

A place where lakes and forests blanket the dales,

Where starlight dapples on pale faces and creatures wild, 

A man whose soul brews storms and destroys,

Poor souls flock like minnows to his arms for miles.

Yet no child of man sees the omnipotent spire,

Nor hear His cries of voyeuristic disgust,

Only those of The Strange and The Marvelous give to

The benevolent magician their hope and their trust.

In this citadel of secret dwellers' sight,

he captivates his wards with magic no-one can transcend.

In the Tower of The Magic Man, O Child, 

Watch lights and colours dance to bring your sorrows to an end.