"envoke" poems
We crossed into Louisiana
Right about witching hour
The energy there
Invades the aura
Years of compacted sorrow
Combined with the
Old ways of root doctors
And esoteric power
You take the Hoodoo
To the crossroads
We're in the back roads
Of Monroe
They talk to you there
Ya know
I put my bare feet
To the swampy grasses
At the railroad tracks
Illuminated by the waxing moon
Hail Hecate!
We envoke thee
Commit this wax and ash
To the earth
Blessed be )0(
May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 8:29 PM UTC
We aging poets
Scribble hard in the passive
Recalling the active;
I envoke your separate, central parts,
Merging in the hard ripples of you
In August's evening lake;
Re-absorbing the yellow blur
That dries the pressed grass.
These passive lines from past lives;
This aging poet loses clarity
Re-capturing the passions
Of the young poet's life.
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 3:04 PM UTC
And in her eyes, reside starlight and fire,
A multitude of sparks against the dark of her pupil,
Shining through open windows of iris - showcasing soul.
And stars dance in her gaze, a mimickry of laughter on lips,
"Come share in this joy with me" they seem to say,
Projecting their thrall, compelling and enticing,
Bespelling like beings and light beings alike,
Drawing them nigh, to join in a ritual baring.
They envoke a sharing of spirits, inviting a marriage of ideas,
Consummating a journey of ties, unveiling unseen connections.
Cloaked in midnight, and still she is luminous,
Mysterious, yet, as precious and pure as genuine pearls -
Her glow resonating from subconscious through skin,
As moonlight in human form,
Her tendrils stealing into universe,
Shaping, adjusting, freeing.
Paying homage to the goddesses before her,
She calls the tides to her fists,
And beckons the raging winds to surrender to her will,
She commands the rains to cease, and the seas to still;
A reckoning force, blunting the force of storms,
She calms calamitous energies,
Standing fearless in the face of catastrophe,
Gargantuan, even to giants, overwhelming and limitless,
Black, and magic.
May 29, 2021
May 29, 2021 at 2:40 PM UTC
"Songs of a nomadic heart" is an authentic poetry collection that celebrates love, people, experiences and life through the eyes of an 18-year-old.
The book contains poems that will touch your heart, speak to you and thus envoke emotions. The inspiration behind this book is everyone whom I have ever met, thus adding a bit of experience to my life. I hope that this book makes everyone feel what I felt while writing it and fills them with hope, love, and verses.
Buy it from the link below
https://www.amazon.in/dp/B07CQL78H3
May 9, 2018
May 9, 2018 at 10:22 AM UTC
You're like a touch of spring through winter,
Subtle and bold,
Warmth through cold.
A gentle soul,
Creating something so beautiful.
To envoke such demanding emotion is a blessing,
Something that is shared not give.
Thank you for sharing with me your shining heart.
Powerful Premonitions Prosper
In the darkest places
The darker they are the deeper the stomach churning feeling becomes
That all that is good will sour and rot
Darkness looms the cloth of fate we're all sewn into
It's in everything we do.
We.
Are darkness.
z.w.b
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 5:11 AM UTC
I want to think abount the smuge on my refrigerator
and a **** in an empty elevator
I KNOW IT WASN'T ME!!
To the deep and tangle of wood.
Of cackle and of croak.
Find me left of no regrets uncloaked with singe and smoke.
The sun unsean and far from sight
this ever dark of night.
So too shiver and of faint,
did the woods enease, envoke.
The firey hate I have of all
that I ever stoke.
So to light, or rather
fight.
The hope eternal night.
This feeling is of a drearyness.
So to other worlds alight.
So within this swamp of soot
and eyes too break of day.
Focused only for the dark,
that of yesterday.
Be the light unnatural,
Be it weeping willows.
Is the place to find me now,
I hope your dance can follow.
So forward, forward,
through the muck.
while we sink together.
An anger that we hope to shed,
this our common tether.
So upon our doorstep,
us of little faith
that we might to hold the hate
is foolishness awry
for anger is the tempest
and cleansing of our homes
for the mind is but a fabric
and the blood of God the dye
these wonders make a fool of me
andme to jest about
so could I find I better time
to worlds of lesser shake.
but cowards are around
and shimmer like a snake
I'm of a universe
I do not have a stake
So would I to a different path
that of less mistake.
this I cannot know
the wind will tell you so
it is of a place
we might never, ever go.
so tell me then .As you tire.
I write with toungh in cheek, but never
of a charlitin and never of a lier
and with the passing of your time.
you never paid a cent.
but think It funny of your mind
that I often pay to rent.
Feb 28, 2019
Feb 28, 2019 at 9:42 PM UTC
Is it okay to collect the words that remind me of you...
When I read them your autumn gold eyes appear,(hope)
and some of them envoke your sweet yet devilish smile,(wait)
and some bring back the feeling of you pressed up against me,(love)
Simple powerful words
GMSF
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 8:30 AM UTC
To be in peace, is to feel a release.
A release of built up tension in any and all ways.
We can find this peace through the illustrious brushing,
which brings young men to *******
But that is only one way, and isn’t what you think I’m trying to say!
Anything can envoke peace in ones mind, body and aching heart.
We can find this peace through the relaxation of sleep,
drifting quietly against the water of our dreams.
We can find peace through the steadiness of nothing,
not a soul to speak up, or a mouse to scatter along.
A peaceful day of nothingness.
We find this peace through different things, taking off the leash of what’s going on, and just sitting quietly in our own field, like a trusty dog.
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 6:21 AM UTC