Call Forth Poems | Examples

Demon of Witches Tower

An ominous water tower
Stands tall in Starin Park
Barricaded by a spiked fence
Iron clads the stained-glass windows
A steel door bolted shut
What secrets lie within its walls?

On the night of a blood moon
Witches shrouded in crimson robes
Conducted a satanic ritual
To call forth a demon from hell.
The ceremony was a success, but at a cost.
Hellborn claws slew the High Witch.

The remaining members stood firm.
Combined their strength to subdue the creature.
Calling forth the spirits of nature,
The witches configured a tower
To confine the bloodthirsty beast
So none shall meet an unfortunate end.

They say on a full moon night,
You can hear otherworldly growls
Echoing throughout the tower
Rattling the bravest of souls
Who'd dare to venture forth
To the Witches Tower.

Magdalenes and Eves

"Magdalenes and Eves"

Pin the tale on the donkey
there’s something in the way She moves
a harlot by any other name, pages of 
Magdalenes and Eves

the ruin of every good world of righteous man 
opened doors and gates to new universal territories 
before and always will 
and freedom was still kept tight 

before the flood birthed doves and peace 
She stood for what She was worth
bartered, maligned and misunderstood
but a vessel just the same as a floating ark

the screams of newborns doused in innocence 
quiet all the senseless noise and call forth 
the reason for Her thorny existence -
without the harlot there is no life at all;

a rose by any other name
except that;

all Gods are birthed 
from a Woman
and that God is found 
within the runes


Candide Diderot. ‘25

FAKE NEWS FICTION

Galvanizing, never scrutinized; each moment falsely tabulated;
Slanted, polarized polls, punishing spiteful pundits
Spouting, spinning lies in frantic unison squawking
Ridiculous versions of fear mongering tales,
Meant to frighten, meant to hurt,
Meant to clutch and pulverize power.

It takes only a calm, rational thinking moment
To see through the maze of their foggy logic.
Nothing they say is fact checked or based in truth.
Spinning frantic webs to catch the unwary
To call forth violence with rage filled rants,
They push disturbing diatribes, provoking mayhem..

Drumming up revolt among the weak-minded minions ,
They still cannot cloak their hurtful and murderous intent.
President Trump has called them out, laughing in their faces.
Finally unmasked and stripped of disguises
There is nowhere to run, no more hiding places.
We see you. We stare at the darkness  behind your malicious eyes.
Your fake news fiction will never again deceive us with your lies.

CREATED PURPOSE -

What is my purpose in life
I've tried it all I've written 
Some lyrics poems
Some songs I traveled down some 
Art forms, did a few samples drums piano
Let organized call forth heavenly groups
Organized creativity truths
Seek that I find
Written already in the tablet of mind
Energies a flamed
Speaking forth life is creative purposes in life



2/23/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2024

Sumptuous Day

Let ‘s do a rain dance 
call forth a sumptuous day; 
Hide inside with me.

Ignite the Fireflies

Oh, prepare ye prancing pixies
Ignite the fireflies
reveal to us in moonlight
What in the soil abides
Awake the buds
Call forth their blooms
Conduct the feathered choir
As in the hum of nature’s womb
May’s dreams of life conspire

John G. Lawless
©5/1/2023

Pain

 

I call forth pain
      upon myself willingly
  plunging a sharp dagger each day
            into my own heart
                     by remembering
    oh, you cannot see my hidden wounds
             as I hide them well
        for my scars are mine to love
but I pen grieving words of pain and loss
            written with my blood
      from this weeping, weeping soul
                   how can I not do so
  and I send my tears on fluttering wings
      that swirl and drift in the wind 
              and my wish is, oh
         please land in gentle hands ...

______________________
April 24, 2023


Poetry/Verse/pain
Copyright Protected, ID 04-1542-516-24
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France

Evil Cultivators

In caverns deep, away from light,
The evil cultivators practice might,
Their twisted minds seek to enslave,
All living things which they deprave.

With chants and spells, they call forth powers,
Summon beasts to stir the hours,
Wielding magic with wicked intent,
Their evil ways they will not repent.

The darkness creeps and blackness falls,
As evil cultivators heed the calls,
Of force and fear, with demons near,
Their evilness knows no peer.

In secret places, they conspire,
With oaths and cursing to inspire,
The strength of darkness to abide,
And conquer all that's good inside.

Beware the evil cultivator's snare,
For few escape and leave a prayer,
To those who fall under their spell,
There's little hope and none to tell.

Messages In the Clouds

Observer of the skies, I thrill to see
a puppy cloud stretch out to dragon length,
a shapeless mass become a well-formed heart,
or pastel puffs become an ice cream cone. 
These sights call forth my best old memories
of playing with my dog and summer treats, 
of how my teen heart fluttered when I wore
my first real boyfriend’s class ring on my chain.

A local man I knew saw doves, the Cross*,
and messages from Jesus in the clouds.
A booklet holds his photos of these scenes.
Revisiting my copy gives me pause.
Why would two long-time Christians like us see
such widely-varied scenes among the clouds?

I’ll bet this man prayed fervently to see
some lovely words and images from God,
who chose to send the answers in the sky.
“Ask and ye shall receive,” the Bible says.
I’m praying, and believing, He’ll reveal
some messages from Heaven in the clouds
to bless my soul and move my heart to sing.

*The Cross upon which Christ was crucified


March 8, 2023
Contest: the Each Passing Cloud Poetry Contest          Placed 2nd
Sponsor: JCB Brul

Regret

Regrets are best left in the past;
to dwell does not a thing undo.
The shape in which you are now cast
with error'd clay is rich imbued.

How would you know the heights of bliss
unless you first had been brought low?
Remember, yes, and reminisce,
but call forth not your former woe.

Without past gall, how sweet the sherry?
And what is light without the dark?
Regret is not a place to tarry;
Analyze and then embark.

Let your star guide your direction;
be mindful, yes, of past mistakes.
Hope and life are an election,
so keep regret firm in your wake.

Nature

For what is the nature of the beast
That comes with fiery breath to steal the feast
And then, upon the morrow, floods the fields
Thus rotting on the vines what summer yields

And yet with gentle tones, A subtle breeze
Can fill our hearts with joy and make us sneeze
Call forth from hidden caves a will to live
And in our joyful hearts the beast forgive

For we are but the pawns with which she plays
Her fickle nature changing with the days
At sunrise she’ll beguile us with her glow
At sunset chill our hearts with winter’s snow

She bears no malice, her moods defy our reason
For her it’s just the whimsy of a season


9/20/2021

“N” poems, New or Old Poetry Contest

Dust

Yell 
they want me now?
scream
they want me dead

Cry
Beg for affection
Wail
when i hurt them

whimper
desperate dogs
shout
all their weakened ego 


screech
call forth the wind
screech
they all vanish

Clearly I See

As you may guess, my heart must ask for this for I like being free.
Call forth your best effort to bask in my truth if you love me.
Haul your doubts out of the flask, and stop smiling with glee.
Maul negativity to complete the task, do not be Simon Legree.
Caul was attached to my mask at birth, which helps me to see
Hall of horrors in your present cask, so toss it, drunken chickadee.
Squall of wrath tipping your casque, so now I will promptly flee.

Written 7-9-2020
Contest: Triple Rhyme
Sponsor: Beth Evans

Coven

Coven

Dancing in the dead of night,
Howling at the moon,
Calling to Beelzebub,
Hoping he'll be there soon.

Waiting for the ignoble Beast
To come with his hounds of Hell;
Preparing for him a virgin feast,
Awaiting the sound of Satan's bell.

Spinning into a frenzied state,
Sweating blood before the dawn,
Each one offering to be his mate;
The crucible of the Devil's spawn.

But soon the sun begins to rise,
And no appearance has he made;
They wipe the tears from out their eyes,
And with sorrow leave the sheltered glade.

To spend the lonely hours of day
Quietly pursuing their daily chore,
Keeping the hellish hounds at bay
'Till they return to the glade once more.

To once again repeat the rite,
And call forth the Creature foul;
Twirling through the dark of night,
Bemoaning their fate, to the moon they howl.

But he does not come, this accursed slime,
To take to bed his earthly wench;
They merely spend this wasted time
Letting their minds rot in the stench.

The blessed sun will rise anew,
And their efforts will have been in vain--
But somewhere in a church's pew,
A crippled man will walk again.

Whipping Boy

In a child's blueprint
Most telling memories 
Lay dead and buried 
Prior to ghosts that torment him grown

The plain act
Of daydreaming
Has ways to call forth
A multitude of zombies from his past

Like a family friend playing father
After Dad's recent demise
Assisting the mother easily overcome
By her youngest boy dubbed Exceptional

Taken aside and told
He's really something
But aware it did not amount to a lot
Through the eyes of those most dear

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