Casting Misspellings

You try a new recipe for magic

You strut to a kitchen baked up in your dreams Then spell, dice and spice, no relenting You scroll through ingredients for lemon zest schemes Whip up a hurry with lightly fried fiends Epicureans all beg you’re repenting

Yes it’s true you have turned quite bubonic As you grind up your reams of collusion Shake your meanings in iced catatonic Grate your mind till it shows signs of chronic And your palate, it just pleads colonic When you bake it all up in confusion Overheating a chilled-out infusion

You’re perplexed by your meaning’s lost finder When you boil it all down to a source Reproof your puddings, a bookish reminder Don’t eat your last words in very first course When you line up your deadpan with parchment And custard hits the fan with bestarchment When you learn that your spelling tastes worse And the tables get turned for next curse When you think you’re equipped to do magic Rest your head in this fresh bowl of tragic The trick, when it’s all said and done — — Just let poetry dash magic in pun.