"invoke" poems
Be my novel tonight
Allow me to navigate the depths of your thoughts
and journey through the pathways of your mind while
merging in my imagination and infusing in my wildest
poetic fantasies. Inscribing in our bedpost an
unforgettable bestseller.
Be my music tonight
Let me groove to the beat of your heart picking up pace
as I explore new ways to invoke melodious outbursts. I
want to sing a duet with you of synchronized moans and
pleasurable sighs. Culminating with you belting out my
name in one final perfect note.
Be my masterpiece tonight
Permit me to trace my fingertips across every inch of
your frame as I find your sensually stimulating spots.
Armed with new knowledge and intent, sit back as I
stroke you with my brushes of desire and take you on a
creative adventure of twists and turns as I bring to life my finest
work of art and watch with all anticipation your love erupt.
© Tina Thompson
Mar 3, 2012
Mar 3, 2012 at 2:30 PM UTC
To go a viking was the call
To be answered by Norsemen blonde and tall
And so they rode the dragon boats
The powers of Thor and Odin they did invoke
Once more upon a foreign shore
Spared not the weak who did emplore
For mercy from untimely death
A viking was a raid unto death
The weak and feeble felt the axe
Even the strong had no hope to match
The power of its savage bite
And when the blow fell death came in sight
Of those yet to fall
Delivered by a norseman tall
Few were spared and taken slave
To labour for their remaining days
Then the longships turned once more for home
Few Norsemen dead no more to roam
There is a name for what they did
To Go A Viking
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 4:56 AM UTC
dear girl,
i would like to apologize on behalf
of those that will never.
the world lied to you
since you were old enough
to balance a book
to listen, retain,
consume without question
i would like to apologize on behalf
of those that informed you
your value is calculated
by the sum of your parts
that you are worth the contrast of fat deposits
over the angles of fragile bones
i would like to apologize on behalf
of those pining characters they wrote you,
every soul with a haunting disposition
who was given the noble ambition
to invoke longing within those
that remain on the outside
of the glass
because the songs that were sung on the radio
cast you as the the inspiration
but when they painted you lips for love
they denied you the language of narration
and you lived your life thinking
you could invoke magic
if you were only willing
to wait your entire life
for someone else to conjure it
i am sorry
that we filled your head
with empty adjectives
to whisper in your ear
that you were nothing
unless validated by the eyes of strangers
seeing you as nothing more
than a commodity
for which to window shop
and consume
and when they abandoned their casual browsing
their wants transcended your right
to exist
and it was you
they chose to invade
to tear open
because after all,
you were man made
a nail scratching a rib
a void to fill up
with whatever poison they thought you’d look sexier
choking on
dear girl,
i would like to apologize on behalf
of the fact that you remain unnamed,
an improper noun
a caricature,
a statistic,
a silhouette on the back window
mouth a perfect oh
that will never know words
i am sorry that the second
you entered the world with two X’s
they would reduce you
to an exquisite tragedy,
place them over your eyes
and declare that the death of a beautiful woman
is the most poetic thing in the world
i would like to apologize
because this world was never
quite big enough to hold you
and we knew
and we saw
and we opened our mouths,
took a breath,
and we closed them
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 3:28 AM UTC
all my life
ive only thought of one thing
YOU
you are why i got an education
why i tried so hard to make beautiful things with my hands
why i got dressed up
why i learned to sing
and dance
why i never stopped trying to make a living
why i always went to the gym
and worked out to be diamond hard
why i was polite or inconsolable
why i ran seven miles a day
why i tried to be charming
why i could never stop playing with myself
why i got through james joyce
why i learned
conversational hypnosis
neuro linguistics
magick
and
witch
craft
to invoke a spell
that would compel
YOU
to dance
the wiggle wiggle
naked
from hot rhythms
and slow melodic
sways
as i prayed
burning
blood red candles
during the darkest moon
for adorations
with endless masturbations
to your beautiful *** and feet
for tender red lipped mercies
kisses kisses kisses
because
you are beauty piqued
from your golden angelic head
soft silken hair
to your sweet pink arched feet
and twinkling painted toes
magnetized
to yank my eyes
and be your
**** boy *** toy
my goddess glitter ****
queen of heaven
all paradise any man needs
BUT
sometimes i couldn't have
YOU
and
it velvet crushed me
taught me hopelessness
broke my will
gave me fear
made me cry
and shiver inside
tore my heart to smithereens
twisted my in-nerds
like jagged metal
melting me
as i spiraled
down
into madness
all burning veins of fire
until inferiority dragged deep
suffocating me
shuddery
like
winters
midnight freeze
and howling winds
through
hollow desolations
marrow-less
bones
Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 1:25 PM UTC
My back is tight, knotted
I'm not entirely sure why
But I would trap a dozen
Eskimos for a massage, honestly
Enter the sad realization that, despite
Bruno's good intentions, he is unable to
Fulfill this request with paws
Oh, but that's alright
It's one of those half-hearted dreams
That drifts along in wispy bits
Every now and again
To whisper and invoke a peace
Within the cataclysm, but don't dare
Turn around, or it will be
Gone
Like the ghostly fingers untying me
One loop at a time because
They've lost the scissors
May 12, 2011
May 12, 2011 at 5:42 PM UTC
In the wayward’s of a Wiccan
do no harm (those who’ve paid heed)
Ye old religion doth fright some
believing charms hold ***** deeds
Familiar’s rest contently by
Ye pentagram untangling lives
within ye coven “their” demise
will make all “those who’ve paid” view twice
“Peace is free, peace is free
Invoke thee, invoke thee
Evil doers now flee, now flee
far, far away from thee”
Sodium sears without ye knowledge
invade homesteads if you dare
but if evil hath been among you
tis your soul that will be bared”
Ye old religion doth fright some
believing charms hold ***** deeds
In the wayward’s of a Wiccan
do no harm (those who’ve paid heed)
Jun 13, 2010
Jun 13, 2010 at 6:49 PM UTC
Away with your fictions of flimsy romance,
Those tissues of falsehood which Folly has wove;
Give me the mild beam of the soul-breathing glance,
Or the rapture which dwells on the first kiss of love.
Ye rhymers, whose bosoms with fantasy glow,
Whose pastoral passions are made for the grove;
From what blest inspiration your sonnets would flow,
Could you ever have tasted the first kiss of love.
If Apollo should e’er his assistance refuse,
Or the Nine be dispos’d from your service to rove,
Invoke them no more, bid adieu to the Muse,
And try the effect, of the first kiss of love.
I hate you, ye cold compositions of art,
Though prudes may condemn me, and bigots reprove;
I court the effusions that spring from the heart,
Which throbs, with delight, to the first kiss of love.
Your shepherds, your flocks, those fantastical themes,
Perhaps may amuse, yet they never can move:
Arcadia displays but a region of dreams;
What are visions like these, to the first kiss of love?
Oh! cease to affirm that man, since his birth,
From Adam, till now, has with wretchedness strove;
Some portion of Paradise still is on earth,
And Eden revives, in the first kiss of love.
When age chills the blood, when our pleasures are past—
For years fleet away with the wings of the dove—
The dearest remembrance will still be the last,
Our sweetest memorial, the first kiss of love.
5.3k
submerge their trembles
the intoxicated stars of the night
into the arresting allure
of moonlit seas
under the shimmering cloak
primal flames of passion lovers invoke
revel stars in moonbeams wet
yielding liquid baroque
crash silver waves
on compliant sands of submission easy
gather bliss-tinted surfs
in starry ecstasy
flow tranquil waters
in the envelope of dawn's golden fill
glow in embrace of gratitude
souls two in fulfill
Sep 24, 2017
Sep 24, 2017 at 10:11 AM UTC
Uncharmable charmer
Of Bacchus and Mars
In the sounding rebounding
Abyss of the stars!
O ****** in armour,
Thine arrows unsling
In the brilliant resilient
First rays of the spring!
By the force of the fashion
Of love, when I broke
Through the shroud, through the cloud,
Through the storm, through the smoke,
To the mountain of passion
Volcanic that woke ---
By the rage of the mage
I invoke, I invoke!
By the midnight of madness: -
The lone-lying sea,
The swoon of the moon,
Your swoon into me,
The sentinel sadness
Of cliff-clinging pine,
That night of delight
You were mine, you were mine!
You were mine, O my saint,
My maiden, my mate,
By the might of the right
Of the night of our fate.
Though I fall, though I faint,
Though I char, though I choke,
By the hour of our power
I invoke, I invoke!
By the mystical union
Of fairy and faun,
Unspoken, unbroken -
The dust to the dawn! -
A secret communion
Unmeasured, unsung,
The listless, resistless,
Tumultuous tongue! -
O ****** in armour,
Thine arrows unsling,
In the brilliant resilient
First rays of the spring!
No Godhead could charm her,
But manhood awoke -
O fiery Valkyrie,
I invoke, I invoke!
4.7k
Take my hand
hold on through the quicksand
of my expressed agony
for I’m trying to bring us past the vanity
and the demonic hailings I paint
can as swiftly change to angels sailing past the hate
my words can take you from a pearless white night
with only the moon in sight
then twist that light back to
the sun’s beaming might
surround you in a blizzard
with imagery so vivid
it cuts through the snow
like a rock in a rivers flow
bring you from the crumbles of earthly ruins
to the humble pearly white gates of heavenly viewings
invoke you in anger & apathy
a firery rage bellowing
until you hear a fazed echoeing
pulling you from the depths of mind
to the paradise I envisioned for
mankind
corrupt you with illness of doubtful hate
then present a panacea of a
hopeful fate
I know I’m just a man,
but take my hand
and I’ll show to your there’s more to us than a monotonous plan
Dec 21, 2018
Dec 21, 2018 at 3:07 AM UTC
A bedspread on which bold, red and blue
esoteric, Tantric, motifs embrace
copulating triangles, the ideogram of cosmos
batik printed in vermilion on it's center
is spread, right there on the play-field of cupid
where the confluence is to happen,
a transmitting point of fecund energies to infinity,
a point on the spring board to transcendence
Beloved, here in the holy fire, receive in ecstasy,
the sacrificial offering I bring from the
incessant Ganga of my lineage,
Shakti and Shiva come in for divine union,
together here on the mark beyond time and space.
right in the center is "THE BINDU" the mystical point
both culmination and beginning of the 'beyond'
passage from here to timelessness of cosmos, we invoke.
Here Shakti is holy fire leaping up for Shiva's offering,
sublimated they fuse, may that be the seed for karmas lumenant.
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 6:21 AM UTC
For Leonard Baskin
To his house the bodiless
Come to barter endlessly
Vision, wisdom, for bodies
Palpable as his, and weighty.
Hands moving move priestlier
Than priest's hands, invoke no vain
Images of light and air
But sure stations in bronze, wood, stone.
Obdurate, in dense-grained wood,
A bald angel blocks and shapes
The flimsy light; arms folded
Watches his cumbrous world eclipse
Inane worlds of wind and cloud.
Bronze dead dominate the floor,
Resistive, ruddy-bodied,
Dwarfing us. Our bodies flicker
Toward extinction in those eyes
Which, without him, were beggared
Of place, time, and their bodies.
Emulous spirits make discord,
Try entry, enter nightmares
Until his chisel bequeaths
Them life livelier than ours,
A solider repose than death's.
3.9k
Ajoke, the gods has cursed me to
Praise thy beauty
Like a sugar-cane planted at a river-bank
Your beauty is magically comely
Thy phat smile is an epiphany
I wonder the mystery of the water that
Dwell in the Coconut of thy beauty
Let me adore your well-made eyeballs
They are like traps laid in the forest for
Antelopes
Something the mirror won't tell you about
Your dimples is that they give death to death
The village priests said your
smile can be use to appese the gods
Not to invoke their wrath
Something about your dexterous waist
They are like prison guards when dancing
Guilding my hearts.
Ajoke your beauty is an epiphany.
Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 4:20 PM UTC
The dichotomy of purgatory is sprinkled with the delights and disciplines of a fretful uncertainty and steam locomotives can sound menacing when their pistons seek to establish torque on those rails of pursued destination with mesmerizing force.
I know that time is like a fondling excitement, where constellations of perceived energy fields become intellectually categorized into mechanical parts of a metaphysical ******
Universal parameters of death may generate mischievous laughter, which resound throughout the silent galaxies of cosmological meadows.
I have to say that geometrical co-ordinates automatically invoke thoughts of plain paper and hot chocolate – small figments of homosapien pastures where grazing is not a realistic occurrence.
As we perceive the eternal impressions of epistemological nihilism, let us play the game of religious patience on this checkered board of architectural bliss.
Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 10:46 PM UTC
Ye who have passed Death’s haggard hills; and ye
Whom trees that knew your sires shall cease to know
And still stand silent:—is it all a show,
A wisp that laughs upon the wall?—decree
Of some inexorable supremacy
Which ever, as man strains his blind surmise
From depth to ominous depth, looks past his eyes,
Sphinx-faced with unabashed augury?
Nay, rather question the Earth’s self. Invoke
The storm-felled forest-trees moss-grown to-day
Whose roots are hillocks where the children play;
Or ask the silver sapling ’neath what yoke
Those stars, his spray-crown’s clustering gems, shall wage
Their journey still when his boughs shrink with age.
3.5k
Changing faces for nameless places
Nameless people struggling for existence in a nameless time
Worship the incoherent ramblings
Of countless babbling nameless fools
Bread and water lead the lambs to slaughter
Prejudice injustice demanding obedience
Nameless zombies
Becoming the robotic puppet
Of the puppeteers desires
With pre-programmed responses
Feelings not your own
Desensitized children
Of a race of morbid loving junkies
We render them fearless, then cry
At the mass of chaos they invoke upon us
Lost leading the lost
Devouring the beauty in their paths
The scourge of the free man
Who lives under the delusion of his freedom
Prisoners all
While the power sits upon a high throne laughing
Unbelieving how simply they all fell
And obediently they continue to provide
The avenues of deception for his rich existence
© Crystal Erickson 11/24/2007
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 11:11 PM UTC
Presumptuous, perhaps arrogant,
My perception of reality.
I invoke, with humility,
The Great Spirit and
Receive an answer.
Heavenly manifestations
In the form of trees,
Birds and dreams.
My reality.
But, what about me?
I am important.
I am destined.
I am.
I
Regulate and manipulate
My world.
Channeled energies, memories
Are brick and mortar
For the building of myself.
I build and build,
Adding rooms,
Windows, staircases.
My domain.
My center draws farther
From the edge.
Understanding expands.
I know more and more.
I sleep.
I dream of angels,
Of nature in bliss,
Of blue skies imbedded
With soft clouds,
Of worlds--
Many, many, worlds--
And, I dream of myself.
I wake up.
I wake.
I
Am aware, facing
A being not of my choosing,
Beyond myself.
Shrill whistles,
Bright, flashing bulbs,
Agitated bees,
Forgotten memories,
Woven into the
Space that unfolds--
And more.
No longer under my control,
The earth spins on
Its axis.
A world apart from me.
Presumptuous, perhaps arrogant,
My perception of reality.
Mar 22, 2010
Mar 22, 2010 at 5:36 PM UTC
Curve soft, silky, chills
Swell, taut, protrudes, aches
Tunnel, tight, hot, wet
Nub, hard, throbbing, spasms
Petals, flushed, swollen, moist
Well, soft, slick, hugging
Tube, hangs, soft, wrinkled
Bags, sway, firm, sensitive
Rosebud, closed, but opens
Pillows, press, linger, invoke
Pearls, grip, burn, mark
Velvet, glides, trails, excites
Swell, is twisted, pulled, pinched
Petals part, exposing the nub
Nub, rubbed, licked, ******
Tube delves into the tunnel
Pistoning as friction builds
Stands, hard, smooth
Hard smooth enters rosebud
Pushes, prods, breaksthrough
Screams, pants, moans
Velvet enters well, circles, exciting
Pressure builds, senses heighten
Ice chills turn to fire to volcanic
Ohhhs, ahhhs, turns to moans
Turns to gasps, and whimpers
Cries, screams that cresendo
Nectar explodes to honey that drips
Lava thick spews deep
Mixture like cream paints the walls
Tangled, exhausted
Sweat, essence
Dreams, snores
Jul 18, 2010
Jul 18, 2010 at 6:14 AM UTC
Harken My Daughters
by Solitaire Archer
Harken My Daughters I bid listen to me
And as I say these Words So Mote it be
Teach her from now till time is forgot
Teach her broom and teach her ***
Teach now no reason to hide
Teach her scents and times and tides
Teach her hues and Teach her to bide
Teach her Moons and teach her flowers
Teach her herbs and to keepsafe Our bower
Teach her Air and Water and Fire
Teach her Oak and Teach her lyre
No buildings of Stone No meter high Towers
Let her Dance in the Snow and Dance in the Showers
Hark to me my Daughters dear Teach her so she has naught to fear
Show her Signs and cards and runes
Teach to her to call down the Moon
Teach her Sight and Teach her Bane
Teach her to invoke my Name
in my Place too- call down the Power
In our Circles or in our Bowers
As I have taught now you must too
Pass it forward your line ensue
Daughter to daughter your line in Light
for this moment forward as far as Sight
Witch follows Witch for eternitys Flight
Daughter to Daugther gives Power and Might
Harken My Daughters Listen me
Child go live it
So Mote It Be
These are my words, This is my way.
Doyenne Solita Arcanna ShadoeWalker @2012
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC
Let us invoke a healthy heart-breaking
Towards the horrible world:
Let us say 0 poor people
How can they help being so absurd,
Misguided, abused, misled?
With unsifted saving graces jostling about
On a mucky medley of needs,
Like love-lit ****
Year after cyclic year
The unidentifiable flying god is missed.
Emotions sit in their heads disguised as judges,
Or are twisted to look like mathematical formulae,
And only a scarce god-given scientist notices
His trembling lip melting the heart of the rat.
Whoever gave us the idea somebody loved us?
Far in our wounded depths faint memories cry,
A vision flickers below subliminally
But immanence looms unbearably: TURN IT OFF! they hiss.
2.9k
It was a marathon race of
timeline. The days are bound and shot.
How do I come to you to express
my grief of the country
in tumult!
In shouting and screaming,
there was no magic wand to invoke
peace. Your mouth opens
and shuts like the shell valves. The
scollops― words, swim in
sea of burials.
The seriality was unconscionable.
It falls short of a stroke.
The blood splits. A riot erupts
to wet the lips of curved razor.
The sun retreats, to let
the stars find their sky.
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 1:45 AM UTC
A life without changes, would be painless,
Carefree one would obtain eternal happiness but also boredom,
The bittersweetness of the changes in our lives, heartfelt emotions,
Pain, regret, sadness are what push us forward, make us who we are,
The change for the better or worse is for us to decide and take,
A world without change, would simply be stuck in the past while the future seems to be out of reach, too far away to ever grasp it,
A heart who doesn't change, is ignorant and cannot see truly anything without shaking in fear of the unknown, a fear to evolve,
So from now on I will not dwell in the past crying for the phantoms long gone, who have taken their chance and vanished into a better future with memories they made which can be held dear, close.
Let go of what chains you into the misery you felt when you lost it.
All suffering comes from being too attached to one thing.
So my old friend, the name you gave me, the warmth you gave me,
The smile you showed me, the emotions you invoke in me,
I will remember them well and hold them dear,
But you will not return, so I must let you go,
And the name you gave me
~ U̶m̶i̶
Murasame
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 8:49 AM UTC
1. If it doesn't take place at 4 in the morning, immediately change the setting.
2. You should center all your work. Centering makes the piece unique and improves readability.
3. You should invoke the idea of The Mask. Paul Laurence Dunbar didn't do it well enough.
4. One word lines improve readability and do a great job of making emphasis. Use them a lot.
5. On the other hand, really long lines explain points wonderfully. Feel free to be essentially prosaic.
6. The subject should be obvious and everyday, that way everyone can easily understand what you're trying to say. Subtext is dated.
7. Confessions and heartbreak are unique to you.
8. Not editing makes the work extremely human and relatable.
9. Emoticons and the ilk are the cutting edge of the English language. Feel free to use them without reservation.
10. Rhyme scheme doesn't need meter.
11. Making a word into waterfall letters tells the reader you're falling apart (See #3).
12. Journals, diaries, blogs and Tumblr are old news when it comes to venting. Write an angry poem about your day instead.
13. You're probably going mad according to the DSM-5. Definitely write about that.
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 2:23 PM UTC
peace is when you feel at ease,
within your skin, in your own body,
peace is when, you close your eyes,
and exhale out, all your worries,
peace is when, you hold your love,
against the cold, of the winter nights,
peace is when, you hear the song,
of crickets, in the otherwise silent air,
peace is when, you could sleep,
without the occurrence, of nightmares,
peace is when, you see a flower,
and analyze, the vibrancy of its colors,
peace is when, someone thanks you,
for you have been good to them,
peace is when, you genuinely smile,
without a care, of those glaring eyes,
peace is when, you greet a friend,
even though, you have quarreled,
peace is when, you invoke your soul,
to shed away, the weights it carry,
peace is when, you cook a stew or curry,
and its aroma wafts, into your nostrils,
peace is when … whenever
you feel at peace
peace is when, I look into the mirror,
without sneering, at my own reflection,
peace is when, I could do something,
get a feel of activity, in these stationary days,
peace is when, I get to go outside,
and breathe the same air, as others,
peace is when, I find a song, long lost,
with the voice of which, I adjoin my voice,
peace is when, I realize something,
a solution, though temporary, but there,
peace is when, I receive a message,
from some one across the ocean,
peace is when, that some one asks me,
how I am, even though we have never met,
peace is when I find a piece of art,
beckoning me, to gape at it,
peace is when, I solve a puzzle,
for I see myself, in a positive light,
peace is when, I read someone’s writing,
and get caught into, the web of those words,
peace is when, I write few letters and punctuation,
dissolving my entirety into them,
peace is when… whenever I
forget about this life
I wish a piece of peace, for me,
and some more for you
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 8:29 PM UTC
442
God made a little Gentian—
It tried—to be a Rose—
And failed—and all the Summer laughed—
But just before the Snows
There rose a Purple Creature—
That ravished all the Hill—
And Summer hid her Forehead—
And Mockery—was still—
The Frosts were her condition—
The Tyrian would not come
Until the North—invoke it—
Creator—Shall I—bloom?
2.5k