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 Sorcerer's Pot
The ingredients come together
as the cauldron is stirred round and round,
The vortex grows longer as it snakes
hungrily towards the ground.
Like the dragons of ancient lore or born
of a sorcerer’s wrath,
They descend from the darkened sky
to destroy what’s in their path.
It becomes black as the night
as it draws up debris,
How strong is the monster
the sorcerer's pot has set free.
It roars with a fury
human lips could never make,
Fear of the black caldron
makes us whimper and shake.
We pray for our hero
the strong and mighty white knight,
To slay this evil monster and
bring back the cleansing light.
JRS © 10-10-01
The "Okie" Poet
All poems copyrighted
ã1997-... Spring Creations
The "Okie" Poet
All Rights Reserved
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