Another poem.... oh no!!!!

Some people know i love writing poems for them.....
Well this is dedicated to 'some people'...
I did write it though...

THE CONJURING HUSBAND

The nicest husband in the land,

Is one who lives by sleight of hand

At morn for instance – one two three

Coffee and cream are flowing free

And with a few more magic thumps

He fills the sugar bowl with lumps

While sausage, rolls and all of that

He takes of course, from his old hat

Though there may be of wood a dearth

He builds a fire upon the hearth

And turns a pair of worn out shoes

To meet as good as one could choose

All else that a feast would please

He takes from a nightcap with ease

And without trouble or ado

Himself can roast or boil or stew

At noon and evening tis the same

She cares for naught that lucky dame

What e’er is needed for her use

His magic wand will quick produce

Fresh toilets in the newest style

Are ready in a little while

Wraps, gold and jewel; in short, all

That she may long for, grate or small

Scarcely has she the wish complete.

Before he lays it at her feet

And yet- you’ll wonder it should be-

The two will sometimes disagree

And whatsoe’er he may provide

She will remain unsatisfied

In such case, as in others too

His sleight of hand will help him through

If unendurable grows she

A cloth thrown o’er her- one two three-

And silently she disappears

The household war no more one hears.

Just thought i'd share something

Hello again,


A couple of years ago, my favorite magic shop had a sale of old books. There were a quite a few good books and even though they came at throw away prices I could only afford a couple at that time. One of the books I bought was ‘The Magicians Handbook’ by Herrmann the Great. It was still well bound, but the pages had turned brittle and yellow, however for 25 rupees, it seemed a fair bargain. Like all the books in my modest library, I never read the book cover to cover but in bits and pieces here and there.

I came across the book today, it contained a poem which was published in the New York Journal as a tribute to the author on his death. I thought is was great and want to share it wth you…. Here it is….

THE MAGICIAN’S ART

Saint Peter sat at the gates of gold

And the winter’s night had gone

He was thin and old, and the earth lay cold

And black with December dawn.

But presently over the hills of snow

A heaven bound spirit came,

It paused by the saint, and bending low

It whispered a mystic name

Saint Peter started “what, Herrmann the Great?

Then why do you pause?” said he.

“Your magic might open the finest gate

With never a word from me.”

“Not so,Saint Peter,” the shade replied,

“My magic was but of earth;

It was well enough on the other side

But here its lost its worth”

But the good saint answered, with earnest air

“I pray you will have no fear,

For you practiced another magic there

That counts as well up here.”

“You offered hope to the weary heart

In Charity’s sacred name;

You brightened the world with a blessed art

That counts up here the same”

Saint Peter mused by the gates alone,

And his face looked old and thin

As he thought of the dearth of the art on earth

That had let the magician in.

Hoping that touched you, like it touched me...

God bless.

See you soon…