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#captivating
#*God's love is delight itself it is beauty itself it is tender yet fierce sweet yet wild steadfast yet unpredictable enveloping yet freeing captivating yet boundless protective yet empowering certain yet never boring relentless yet gentle secure yet mysterious trustworthy yet exciting all-consuming yet unfathomable He is everything you’ve ever hoped for, dreamed of, longed after or imagined and so much more He is the Lover of your needy, thirsty soul and He fights continually for your heart*#
0
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 5:13 PM UTC
The Infinite Paradisiacal Paradoxical Paragon
The way you play your harp, effortlessly weaving your fingers through those nylon strings is oh so captivating. The firm hold you have on your instrument, secure, yet light enough, being careful not to break the mahogany frames. The heedful ears you have, used to listen to the echoing sounds, your harp makes in response to even the slightest flick of your finger. The beautifully composed melody, brought forth by the dissonance and resolution of the sweetest sounds I’ve ever known. Wherever did you get the practice? Perhaps it was from toying with my heart.
0
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 11:57 PM UTC
Harp
She was aesthetic... not because of the way she laughed or the way her eyes sparkled whenever she talked about something she loved and not because of the way she used to bite her lower lip whenever she was lost deep in her thoughts. But, simply because of the way she perceived the world. She was full of positivity and her aura spoke volumes about all the captivating mysteries that made her who she was.
0
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 1:35 PM UTC
Enigma
The way you look at me sometimes Often sweeps my mind away Only leaving images of your beauty To help my mind pass the time of day The look which I see upon your face Needs not words to let me know What your look does express so vividly For only my heart understands it so This day has learned to decipher All the precious looks you send my way No longer leaving me to ponder Why you wanted me in your life to stay As I receive the loving gaze you send my way Which becomes the best part of my day I find myself eagerly waiting to return A look of love to you in that same special way
0
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
Will Always Make Me Stay
Three years ago, standing in the garden of life, a butterfly landed perfectly in my hands. It flew from above and behind me, gracefully hovering itself down as if it were landing on a surface that might be unstable for its fragile little legs. Slowly descending closer to my hands, I felt its feet graze the surface of my skin like it was testing out the waters of my spirit. Fluttering over my hands, it kept its wings at metronome-like tempo, and my heart began to follow the same rhythm. It was almost like seeing a butterfly for the first time in my life. Although I knew there were other ones out there, I admired everything about this butterfly like it was the only one in the world that mattered. I couldn’t speak butterfly at the time, but I immediately relaxed my hands to show I was not something to fear. She trusted me and settled herself right in the middle of my openly cupped palms. She was beautiful, from the scars on her wings to the subtle shades of brown that streaked down the tattered edges of them. All the markings on her were like a canvas, showing me the stories that now explained why she was uneasy about landing on me so quick. I wanted nothing more than to take away the pain that she suffered and nurse her back to the amazing colors I saw beyond the scars of her wings. It might of been the way she looked at me with those eyes, or maybe it was the way I felt when she walked on my skin as if she were inside of it. I definitely knew one thing though, I would do anything for her. I planted the best roses and lilies in my garden, always giving her a reason to come back. She craved to breathe in the aura of my being like it was purer than the pollen of a red rose. Anytime she landed on me now, there was never hesitation. She pollinated me with all the ideas she took from the flowers she’s journeyed on throughout life. We mutually connected, almost as if she had been living in my garden all my life. Her addiction to me had attracted my attention like no other, and I fell in love with the way we grew. I felt my cupped hands close a little more while I held her now. Her scars started to fade with time, and just like I thought, the colors that existed beneath them were captivating. She flew around my garden and spread the wings, that had once been torn, with the confidence of a bird that committed itself to soar the skies beyond. I was happy to know that I had helped push this butterfly back into the world, but I also felt my cupped hands close a little more while I held her now. Every time she was gone and growing, I waited so eagerly for her return to see the new stories her wings told. They grew even stronger then from how I had once seen them before, and flourished with vibrant colors. It was amazing; I was completely infatuated with watching her grow. I felt my hands close a little tighter while I held her now. She was mine. I had never felt so good about myself before and maybe I began to take her for granted. I stopped planting flowers in my garden and neglected to water the ones that always brought her back. My garden dried up, and the sight of it didn’t even make me flinch. I was too enveloped in watching a pretty sight like her fly around. There were no more plants growing anymore, no more new seeds planted or new flowers to explore. It was all dead. Al I cared about was her story, her presence and her legacy. She was all I had. There was little for her to delight in anymore, but I guess I didn’t notice.  Her wings fluttered sadly, and I felt my hands close a little more while I held her, now completely cutting her off from spreading her wings. She didn’t feel free any more. Instead of nurturing the garden we used to love exploring together, I made my hands a prison to keep her from flying away from me. The thought that she would prefer another hand or another garden ate at me. I wanted her all to myself. By the time I realized I was wrong, she had flown away for good. I have been working on my garden ever since. If she ever returns, she’ll be pleased to see it’s the best it’s ever been.
0
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 7:00 PM UTC
Butterfly Metaphor
Three years ago, standing in the garden of life, a butterfly landed perfectly in my hands. It flew from above and behind me, gracefully hovering itself down as if it were landing on a surface that might be unstable for its fragile little legs. Slowly descending closer to my hands, I felt its feet graze the surface of my skin like it was testing out the waters of my spirit. Fluttering over my hands, it kept its wings at metronome-like tempo, and my heart began to follow the same rhythm. It was almost like seeing a butterfly for the first time in my life. Although I knew there were other ones out there, I admired everything about this butterfly like it was the only one in the world that mattered. I couldn’t speak butterfly at the time, but I immediately relaxed my hands to show I was not something to fear. She trusted me and settled herself right in the middle of my openly cupped palms. She was beautiful, from the scars on her wings to the subtle shades of brown that streaked down the tattered edges of them. All the markings on her were like a canvas, showing me the stories that now explained why she was uneasy about landing on me so quick. I wanted nothing more than to take away the pain that she suffered and nurse her back to the amazing colors I saw beyond the scars of her wings. It might of been the way she looked at me with those eyes, or maybe it was the way I felt when she walked on my skin as if she were inside of it. I definitely knew one thing though, I would do anything for her. I planted the best roses and lilies in my garden, always giving her a reason to come back. She craved to breathe in the aura of my being like it was purer than the pollen of a red rose. Anytime she landed on me now, there was never hesitation. She pollinated me with all the ideas she took from the flowers she’s journeyed on throughout life. We mutually connected, almost as if she had been living in my garden all my life. Her addiction to me had attracted my attention like no other, and I fell in love with the way we grew. I felt my cupped hands close a little more while I held her now. Her scars started to fade with time, and just like I thought, the colors that existed beneath them were captivating. She flew around my garden and spread the wings, that had once been torn, with the confidence of a bird that committed itself to soar the skies beyond. I was happy to know that I had helped push this butterfly back into the world, but I also felt my cupped hands close a little more while I held her now. Every time she was gone and growing, I waited so eagerly for her return to see the new stories her wings told. They grew even stronger then from how I had once seen them before, and flourished with vibrant colors. It was amazing; I was completely infatuated with watching her grow. I felt my hands close a little tighter while I held her now. She was mine. I had never felt so good about myself before and maybe I began to take her for granted. I stopped planting flowers in my garden and neglected to water the ones that always brought her back. My garden dried up, and the sight of it didn’t even make me flinch. I was too enveloped in watching a pretty sight like her fly around. There were no more plants growing anymore, no more new seeds planted or new flowers to explore. It was all dead. Al I cared about was her story, her presence and her legacy. She was all I had. There was little for her to delight in anymore, but I guess I didn’t notice.  Her wings fluttered sadly, and I felt my hands close a little more while I held her, now completely cutting her off from spreading her wings. She didn’t feel free any more. Instead of nurturing the garden we used to love exploring together, I made my hands a prison to keep her from flying away from me. The thought that she would prefer another hand or another garden ate at me. I wanted her all to myself. By the time I realized I was wrong, she had flown away for good. I have been working on my garden ever since. If she ever returns, she’ll be pleased to see it’s the best it’s ever been.
Continue reading...
17
How beautiful is the life With all its vibrant colours The colours which define its creativity Life is colour,colour is life Shades of translucent rainbow Casting his grace on embellished life The allured tints of the moring sun Captivating the vivacity in people's life How abhorent the nature be Enchained,restricted without the colours Blemishing the ornamentation garnished from heaven But suddenly the grandness breathed for its life As colours started to play an illusive vibe Awakening the sluggishness in one's life Unfolding the colours honesty with ecstasy.
0
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 5:07 AM UTC
Colours
Those eyes captivate me When I look into them I lose the ability to breathe Those eyes reach into me They grab my stomach And tie it in a thousand knots Those eyes devastate me I cannot know about the Universe that lies inside them Those eyes are a mystery But a miniscule clue Has been left behind... And I don't know what to do.
0
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 6:32 PM UTC
Those Eyes
The rhythm of my heart Beats with such musical intensity Can you hear it? So complicated the arrangement Yet impressively expressive To all who listen deeply riveted by the captivating elements of LOVE
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Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 9:05 AM UTC
The Rhythm Of My Heart
Like a siren; alluring. Like a campfire; warming. Like an addiction; captivating. Like the sun; lustrous. She was all of these things upon sight. Like a good book; intriguing. Like an idea; different. Like the breeze; refreshing. Like inspiration; reassuring. She was all of these things upon conversation. Like a dream; distant. Like music; intangible. Like an illusion; comforting. Like the moon; unobtainable. She was all of these things upon waking. Like all of these things; Her.
0
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 3:58 PM UTC
Her.
Something simple, something sweet... Something magical, my souls favorite treat. The calm before the storm. A captivating blur, Of feelings no bystander could infer. A magical intensity of silent poetry. Bittersweet bliss manifesting inside of me. Spontaneity whipping through the air. All sense of reality halts in the company we share. Clouds of the past dissipate, With each ray of sunshine you create. A roller-coaster ride lacking a safety belt, Surpassing any type of affection ever felt. Like riding a wave, yet a board would serve no purpose... If you have me constantly floating above the surface. Reality holds no depiction to genuinely describe, The notion of comprehending all that is inside. Foraging for a taste of your soul, my eyes are met with a blue abyss. Shaded ripples of Nirvana, too precious to resist. Drifting towards the center, a black hole draws me in. Here I realize I had found my key to explore within. A whirlwind of beauty emerging from every angle. So engulfed in the chemistry, I am now comfortably tangled. Smacked with a supercharged rush leaving me numb, frozen with awe. Eventually revived, your lips casually departing mine...the first thing I saw.
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Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 1:08 AM UTC
Ripples of Nirvana
Captivated by the moon Ignoring what surrounds her she stood Under the midnight moonlight Her silhouette shining across the lake Longing for the moon She howled to the night sky Soon a ray of white light travels Gold rays melting the lilac sky Streaks of amber spreading through As the shimmering sun rose high There was no darkness All the stars faded from the sky And just like stars She fades away gently and softly As sunshine takes hold of the air
0
Jul 30, 2020
Jul 30, 2020 at 11:25 AM UTC
Fade away
Have you ever felt a flame? Have you ever seen something hot enough to melt the bitter ice block you call your heart. It’s scalding. Sensual ****** flames that kiss your lonely corners and make you wonder how the fire department isn’t on stand by. Have you ever felt desire burn so deep in your bones you taste magma and blood? What does that yearning bring you? Why havnt the got **** fire alarms gone off yet? Do you wish for release? Or do you beg the embers to dance a little longer on your skin. Is hot a temperature? Or does heat echo in your sweat and pores everytime you hear me? **** the ******* extinguisher. Set me ablaze! Light me up everytime you combust.  I just want to feel fire.
0
Oct 9, 2019
Oct 9, 2019 at 1:30 AM UTC
Smolder
*She is hiding behind the tall pine trees. My thoughts are all twisted. She is calling for me. Her silhouette is now stored, burned into my eyes. She spoke with a voice that disrupted the sky. It’s only her and I in this misty forest, all alone. The path I came from is now gone, overgrown. When I take a step closer, I simply go nowhere. She stands completely still, guiding me like a flare. Everything is quiet, except for all the voices in my head. They scream her name, coloring my ears with red. A distant look is embroidered on her face. She is captivating; I might be in dire straits. I’ve been wandering for so long, in so many years. Now I stand in an awe of her, stuck in second gear. So I’ll just stay here forever, looking at her in despair. Because if I turn around, I am afraid she might disappear.*
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Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 12:29 PM UTC
Immobile
It was as if he had swallowed milk and honey, intoxicating all who listened. His words melted reality and crafted illusions beyond her mind's eye, evoking dreams from the broken fragments she claimed whole. He painted her canvas with colors she could only fathom, the charismatic allure surrounding the energy they shared. They crossed paths in an unlikely time, feeling depth beyond destinations defined.
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Feb 27, 2021
Feb 27, 2021 at 1:08 AM UTC
Charismatic Allure
Hello Poetry A very nice place for me To say's more than words For this heart  wanted to be Phrases that are captivating The rest place of longing soul's Like an ocean of great treasures Great words to be found. The wonders are beyond uncover Sweets soup's and honey's for the restless souls When the wanderers find best piece So, the words absorbs within~ indeed.
0
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 10:57 AM UTC
HELLO POETRY
I just want to kiss you again Feel the closeness of your face and the pressure of your lips When you touched them to my forehead and gently just left them Because you were in no rush and it felt somehow protective I want to look in your eyes and kiss your laugh lines I want you to hold me and say stay a while To feel the ridge on your tongue where you bite it too much Be overwhelmed by the security and the warmth of your touch Was it as captivating for you, do you feel the same glow You said that it was slow, that it was wonderful Only two days in my life that I've kissed you How many more will I miss you
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Dec 1, 2020
Dec 1, 2020 at 6:05 PM UTC
wonderful
She was like a humming bird: soft, light fleeting- the perfect escape artist. Speaking in riddles that keep you up at night. Face changer and witch, she draws you close, holds you so and then lets go without warning. You can only get so close, before she turns her back. Every time a bit closer, every time more sting from the rubber-band of goodbye. Sinking down further into her sea she washes over you, drowning you in the intoxication of her salt. She melts in your mouth, Pixie Stix style; sweet, but gone before you can really enjoy the taste. You press rewind on your memory: looking, searching for any glimmer of her, any flash, anything to keep her close; even for only a moment longer. She wears a mask: masquerade half-faced, with feathers and glitter, ribbons hanging from the left. She's perfected this porcelain-painted facade. Under the disguise she defies the conception of beauty. Thinking her virtue lies in the mask. She lies in the mask. She fades in and out like the morning fog over the ocean. Rushing in and falling away once the sun rays hit the water. The crash enfolds her; she lets it. Skin and bone she bleeds for everyone who ever hurt her, taking the blade to the skin she lets them all win. Playing a loser's hand, all chips in, she gives herself over as payment for who she is. ***** and unworthy; painfully aware of her chemical circumstance, she runs from the torment. Into a forest of lost time remaining hidden, she tries to die but ever-still; she remains.
0
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 9:21 PM UTC
Girls in Progress
She was like a humming bird: soft, light fleeting- the perfect escape artist. Speaking in riddles that keep you up at night. Face changer and witch, she draws you close, holds you so and then lets go without warning. You can only get so close, before she turns her back. Every time a bit closer, every time more sting from the rubber-band of goodbye. Sinking down further into her sea she washes over you, drowning you in the intoxication of her salt. She melts in your mouth, Pixie Stix style; sweet, but gone before you can really enjoy the taste. You press rewind on your memory: looking, searching for any glimmer of her, any flash, anything to keep her close; even for only a moment longer. She wears a mask: masquerade half-faced, with feathers and glitter, ribbons hanging from the left. She's perfected this porcelain-painted facade. Under the disguise she defies the conception of beauty. Thinking her virtue lies in the mask. She lies in the mask. She fades in and out like the morning fog over the ocean. Rushing in and falling away once the sun rays hit the water. The crash enfolds her; she lets it. Skin and bone she bleeds for everyone who ever hurt her, taking the blade to the skin she lets them all win. Playing a loser's hand, all chips in, she gives herself over as payment for who she is. ***** and unworthy; painfully aware of her chemical circumstance, she runs from the torment. Into a forest of lost time remaining hidden, she tries to die but ever-still; she remains.
Continue reading...
64
As I look upon thee I see a lock without a key Those misty eyes A pain in disguise Two marbled gems Shine bright like diamonds Those hazy eyes An innocent lies Your face is a mystery Hiding all your misery But that eyes so flawlessly Compliment my anxiety May I? Look upon those Eyes? I can barely see Your staggering beauty As it dances freely With the flights of fancy Under those dark, bloodshut eye I can surely die... o_o
0
Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 2:09 AM UTC
Those Eyes
Sing me your song And put me in a trance Of love and devotion. Your song blows on the embers Of my soul and awakens them From its dormant state. Sing me your song So I can fall in love. Sing me your song So I may discover my fire. Sing me your song And, someday, I will also sing along.
0
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 11:15 AM UTC
Untitled
Just sitting. Just writing. Saturday translating. Comfortly feeling. Relaxing this evening. A feeling so captivating. My mind is liberating. Thoughts full imagination. They are the reflection of seduction. When memories feels so alive and intensively. Like dreaming in space so heavenly. The beauty of words reveal our vulnerability. Escape to infinity.
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Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 1:54 PM UTC
Escape to infinity
Baby, you’re one of a kind. Your eyes light up my dim night skies. The way you blow into that flute. Hypnotic melodies. Your magic blooming like flowers in Spring. Causing even the dead to dance. Everyone is left captivated. They’d all like a piece of you. Darling, your mind captures brilliance. The kind no other has witnessed. You’re a piece of art. One of a kind. Even with cold flesh. Your smile imprinted onto the Earth. Wishing this moment could last forever. A masterpiece dug into the dirt. And on your grave, I plant these flowers. You’ll be sent to Heaven, baby. Where your flame will rise. And your high will never get low.
0
Apr 12, 2019
Apr 12, 2019 at 4:27 PM UTC
manjushage.
​Your voice was all I heard The way you said every word So genuine, honest and true Captivating, but scary too.. Because I lose myself, my control When your voice tickles my soul. Things around get a bit blurry Pupils dilate, speech gets slurry! All the anxiety, this rush that I feel Your voice'll cast a spell and heal.
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May 6, 2018
May 6, 2018 at 12:17 PM UTC
Wizard Voice
Am I lovely? I know I'm loved, I'm lovable, I'm loving. But am I lovely? Am I delightful? Am I truly cherished? If not now, will I ever be? Will anyone ever call me Their Love, Their Delight, Their Cherished One? Will I ever be found in Your heart? Am I what anyone will pursue? Will anyone fight for me? Will anyone feel like a man by being with me? Jesus, am I lovely? Will I ever be the princess, will I be a part of the narrative? Will my beauty ever be unveiled? Will anyone ever want to know my heart? I know I’m not too much, I know I’m more than enough, but am I lovely?
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May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 10:21 PM UTC
It's Not Vanity, It's My Heart
Fire is so beautiful... so captivating! It baffles me, how something so beautiful can be so destructive! I can be fire. - SacredInkedBlood     ©2019
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Feb 12, 2019
Feb 12, 2019 at 3:17 PM UTC
"Fire"