Warlock - A Poem

If you can think of a more appropriate title, I'd love to hear suggestions!

Written on May 26th, 2025.

I hope you enjoy.

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The hall is dark

Full of muck and slime and smoking braziers,

Hanged by creature long of limb and face

Who churn great pots and lope with bestial gaits

And swing from crumbling beams of evil wood

Whose darkened stains reflect a ghostly light.

What rises from the pits that dot the sodden floor

Around which lie great heavy chains

And matted hair and bones and other nasty things

For which my minions, whose unsavoury need I always meet,

Bring to their Master-King?

I alone command the throng - that shambling lot

Who fill the air with squeals and shrieks,

As I behold my orb with devil-eyes

I channel instruments of grimmest use

To surmise fouler torments for my foes

And other victims of my vicious whims.

For there is dreadful dark within my halls

And I am among those who walk unseen

And summon ghoulish visions quite obscene,

A phantom spirit lording over all.

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The Black Cauldron (1985)

As ever, thanks for reading,

Until next time,

H.E.

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