"enthral" poems
I couldn't compare
The way your light brown eyes
Light the whole totality in me
As if nothing the light couldnt touch
It's filling up the darkness in me
And stop giving me the smile
That stops the ticking clocks
No matter how i beg to be in your forever
As i couldn't resist the tempation to live and let die in your embrace
I wouldn't want to trade
Your chilly touch
With a burning ember
Or any comfort for change
Let the frostbites seal me in your arms so i can stay and please, just stay
Its the way you move
And the way you talk
That takes me on a joy ride on my mortality
This is how your beauty is immortalized
When it is no longer in existence
Or when it is forgotten
By me or by you
At the end of the day
It is not how the moonlight
touches your enthral scars
Your best beauty is
How it brings out the best of me
Within you
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 8:55 AM UTC
Time as the healer,
this vinyl waxes merrily
how could we not steal moments listening?
the record plays like a lost friend -
cascading grooves gives choice,
eye contact breaks the reticence
enthralled with our knowledge
enthral to the Elektra.
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 5:29 PM UTC
I pray thee leave, love me no more,
Call home the heart you gave me.
I but in vain that saint adore
That can, but will not, save me:
These poor half-kisses **** me quite;
Was ever man thus served?
Amidst an ocean of delight
For pleasure to be starved.
Show me no more those snowy *******
With azure riverets branched,
Where whilst mine eye with plenty feasts,
Yet is my thirst not stanched.
O Tantalus, thy pains ne'er tell,
By me thou art prevented:
'Tis nothing to be plagued in hell,
But thus in heaven tormented.
Clip me no more in those dear arms,
Nor thy life's comfort call me;
O, these are but too powerful charms,
And do but more enthral me.
But see how patient I am grown,
In all this coil about thee;
Come, nice thing, let my heart alone,
I cannot live without thee!
3.4k
What makes you
want to be with trash
pond **** who can't make you,
but he sure comes fast
Who made his mind up
about life too quick
What about adventure
and the risk of it?
I've seen your moves
they **** me every time
Hip ****** and **** bumps
encircle and enthral my mind
You are far to beautiful
to be with that creep
he probably snores
and won't let you sleep
If I kept you up
with a bubbling nose
I'd ask you to wake me
and we'd plow till close
I don't mind a snuggle up tight
With you in my arms
is a desirable,
and significant fight
Does he ever marvel
by the beauty of your eyes?
Does he ever tell you
he could never compromise?
With you and the world
it is your pretty life
to choose the hands
who delicately caress you
With your support
and all my work
we'll run this hellhole
turn it heaven on earth
Feb 8, 2011
Feb 8, 2011 at 4:50 AM UTC
Leave your world
Bring your all
A universe to be unfurled
A realm awaiting to enthral
Climb aboard
Slide into the seat
We are what we can afford
You and I... We make
our very own fleet
Strap yourself in
Get ready for the trip
The journey we were made for
Let us begin
The odyssey of our lives
In this here spaceship
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 10:21 AM UTC
Every era that has ever been
Has engaged in the auto-dissection
Of their yellowing underbellys.
Yes, every generation has predicted
that the end is nigh,
That god is on their side;
But the devil has a crowbar
And is busting out of the basement.
Each decade is a mimicry of the last.
Different fashions, same trends
And always, with a fool on the hill.
A lonely steel harmonica can pierce the airwaves
Across space and time,
Through the grooves and crackles
To enthral an audience,
And to beguile that every generation
Into believing in their autonomy,
Their solitude,
With a fate independent of all those centuries past.
Through every disembodied spew of Dylan lyrics,
Or the corporeal and common alienation
Sympathised in every Wilde reference,
Comes the same fury at the chaos of a world
That is no more than indifferent at the plight of the people it houses.
Indeed,
Every generation has sought to either
Cure the ills of the Earth;
Or else set lighter fluid to the lot.
This stretches back to the first blood-spattered edition of the Bible,
And further, much further.
To all of the captains,
The heroes,
The anti-heroes,
The road gritter,
The malevolent dictator,
The schoolteacher,
The emancipated woman
And the borderline feminist.
To every young child who is reluctant to take the spotlight,
Or look you in the eye,
Ask questions, or speak out.
For every one of those who at some point were labelled
‘maladjusted’.
And so the Pharaohs and Caesars are all but gone now,
Replaced by the big-wigs,
The fat-cats,
The purple hearted,
The playboys -
The men in suits.
But they are all the same.
The same behind the decadence of
A solid gold sarcophagus
Or an Armani pair of shades.
They all built their empire on shifting sands.
And so we will all kick and scream
To our own tone and our own time
At the indignity of the world.
At our bespoke knowledge
To deal with all inconvenience
But that which privates the preclusion
Of any and all major slaughters of justice.
As for that young child,
With the lack of eye contact -
And all that he will become:
He will sit. And he will type.
He will type until his words fall beyond that
Of the spiralling noises inside his mind
And blossom into something pure and ugly and beautiful.
He will sit and he will write
To forget.
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 8:21 PM UTC
While I gaze in your eyes, cool cerulean blue,
Sifting night, straining stars through morning’s sweet dew,
I can fathom the depths of empyreal skies,
Angels fluttering by, riding wild butterflies
While I gaze in your eyes, changing, aqua-blue greening,
I’m ****** into chasms, cascading, careening,
And yield to enticements which meekly disarm,
Seeping virtuous beauty, sad sensuous charm
While I gaze in your eyes, bleeding fiery blue
Ever tempting with treasures, with pleasures for two,
Being caught at the core of a blazing sapphire
Possessing, enthralling, aflame with desire
While I gaze in your eyes, misty emeralds, deep green,
Veiling laughter and banter, and echoes between,
Then I dream, so it seems, in whatever the place,
Of your scent, of your breath, of your radiant face
While I gaze in your eyes, at times placidly blue,
Near’ as calm as the weirs in the woods all bedewed,
Forty winks relegate to a shimmering lake,
Gently floating on lilies, while waiting to wake
While I gaze in your eyes, caught engulfed in the greens
And consigning my fate unto verdant ravines,
My reactions, at length, become shyer and shyer
Reminiscent of ravens at risk in the briar
While I gaze in your eyes, restless, hesitant blues
Overwhelming sensations with turbulent hues,
I’m succumbing to waves of a storm battered sea,
Being cast like a plank, never meant to be free
While I gaze in your eyes, shadowed, Midnight Lake green
Glowing hazy with dreams, misty thoughts so serene,
Sudden silence befalls me, a fast sinking stone,
Looming lost in your eyes, I am never alone
While I gaze in your eyes, saddened, lachrymal blue,
Spilling trickles of rain, pearls obscuring your view,
I’ll attend to your anguish and feelings morose,
Lightly kissing your tears, touching, holding you close
While I gaze in your eyes, pulsing infinite green
Of the earth and of heaven and all in between,
It is simple to see that my hands can hold all
Of the treasures I find which so humbly enthral
While I gaze in your eyes, when they’re bountifully blue,
I’m reminded, love’s lightning is granted to few...
While I gaze in your eyes, when they’re blindingly green,
I’m reminded, love’s lightning cannot be foreseen...
Yet I hope... and I wait...
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 6:26 PM UTC
High grace, the dower of queens; and therewithal
Some wood-born wonder’s sweet simplicity;
A glance like water brimming with the sky
Or hyacinth-light where forest-shadows fall;
Such thrilling pallor of cheek as doth enthral
The heart; a mouth whose passionate forms imply
All music and all silence held thereby;
Deep golden locks, her sovereign coronal;
A round reared neck, meet column of Love’s shrine
To cling to when the heart takes sanctuary;
Hands which for ever at Love’s bidding be,
And soft-stirred feet still answering to his sign:—
These are her gifts, as tongue may tell them o’er.
Breathe low her name, my soul; for that means more.
1.5k
Why, Pigot, complain
Of this damsel’s disdain,
Why thus in despair do you fret?
For months you may try,
Yet, believe me, a sigh
Will never obtain a coquette.
Would you teach her to love?
For a time seem to rove;
At first she may frown in a pet;
But leave her awhile,
She shortly will smile,
And then you may kiss your coquette.
For such are the airs
Of these fanciful fairs,
They think all our homage a debt:
Yet a partial neglect
Soon takes an effect,
And humbles the proudest coquette.
Dissemble your pain,
And lengthen your chain,
And seem her hauteur to regret;
If again you shall sigh,
She no more will deny,
That yours is the rosy coquette.
If still, from false pride,
Your pangs she deride,
This whimsical ****** forget;
Some other admire,
Who will melt with your fire,
And laugh at the little coquette.
For me, I adore
Some twenty or more,
And love them most dearly; but yet,
Though my heart they enthral,
I’d abandon them all,
Did they act like your blooming coquette.
No longer repine,
Adopt this design,
And break through her slight-woven net!
Away with despair,
No longer forbear
To fly from the captious coquette.
Then quit her, my friend!
Your ***** defend,
Ere quite with her snares you’re beset:
Lest your deep-wounded heart,
When incens’d by the smart,
Should lead you to curse the coquette.
1.4k
*My poisonous love - A poetic soul
The modification of puckish heart- A cold - blooded bowl
full of your deviant love
stirred with the taste of your strawberry lips , I howl
Real night comes along midnight tranquility
I hear the echoes of yous, Oh cold - Breeze
drives me to your enthral heart
making me lost inside you; 'bout your spellbind heat...
.. resided to your deepen love belonged to mine
With night, you undress your flowery spirit for me, A sly
I rolled up the whole drooling persona of yours with... in the blanket
like a heart seems to be hooked up with its every salacious beat,
~ Oh My French romance & your Italian love so Italic ~
Habibi, I sing you a lullaby
Like a God blessing the whole heart, deeply
The game's made to be over, but not my love, sweetly
Sanorita, Maria, Bri-bee, hey, Nina bonita, oh honey-bee
whatever your name is; wherever you reside to, my spirit needs you completely.*
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 2:16 PM UTC
Beneath the world of expectation
above the Hells of Satan’s lair
a body lies in mortification
and no one knows that it is there.
A ****** on a frosty evening
of lovely girl with sprightly nature
who’s only sin was of receiving
with evils own collaborator.
Innocence was wholly shattered,
deflowered just for being there,
her body beaten and so battered
and left there dead with just her stare.
Terrified, transfixed, still staring
in that direction from where it came.
A beast so vicious and uncaring,
who treated her with so much shame.
There was no offer of protection,
there was no one to lend a hand.
Just he who caused her such dejection.
Just he who placed her 'neath the land.
This girl of lovely disposition
never had time to say farewell,
was never found by expedition,
just left to rot and left to smell.
She missed a life of exploration
that night he took her life so ill.
Encircled now in forestation
beneath the soil of old land fill.
Her family sought, indeed, still seeking
in hope one day she may be found
and from her grave her soul is speaking
to all who walk above the ground.
One day she may receive response
by someone sensitive to call
someone who walks with such a nuance
that she may indeed perhaps enthral.
But until that time she lies beneath,
between the World and Satan’s lair.
Waiting for that one relief,
that all should know and all might care.
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 11:24 AM UTC
There's a distance here between us, perhaps its safer that way
but every shared moment a laugh or smile
our fingers nearly touch
Its all so delicate, would you not say?
we balance on a spiders web
to fall or fly
to fall or fly
what even is love?
are we too young to know?
It all seems so tarnished and unclean these days
I'd rather keep my heart to myself, you know?
The clinton cards and teddies emblazoned "you're the one" just so artificial, so unreal
to step into a world of cliché does not enthral me..
perhaps I was not meant to love another
in this world of safety, the risk seems too steep
yet so tempting...
oh, but why must we complicate friendship with the longing to love?
it is merely human instinct?
we have no need to wallow
we're young,
we're free
why do we waste our days pining
we're no Romeo or Juliet,
no star crossed lovers
some days I'll choose to distract myself
but I miss you when we are silent
my mind walks in circles, hand in hand with your name
my hearts used to a lone routine
it wants to be pulled, to change change change
this is just another midnight poem,
is it not?
A close one once told me,
he must appreciate that you read
for a girl whose studied the literature of love must be deserved
did you know I've read it all?
the words, the sonnets, the songs
its less personal to read of other loves,
instead of write my own
this was never meant to sound pretentious,
more a babble of words to a stranger
if I told you I'd loved you
would you have known all along?
sometimes I cannot help but wonder
I'd prefer not to know
oh, the temptation to hold your hand
when we walk together
it seems an impulse,
a body's natural instinct to reach out, to hold
I trust my head to tell my heart No.
it's all too delicate, too close to home
its easier to keep silent
to let the moments between locked eyes,
be locked away in a box
I'll keep my shaking hands to myself
its safer, safer
I've always played by the rules
I only want a friend, a special one
but it would be unusual for friends to hold each others hands
oh, how annoying it is that everything has to have a reason, these days
there's nothing a fact can't explain
is it okay to say, I just can't say
the correct words
even correct grammar escapes me
you of all people would correct me...
the head says
play it safe
it's enough to
be the friend, the brother
but sometimes, my heart wonders,
if i sailed away,
would you call me your own true love?
Sep 5, 2011
Sep 5, 2011 at 6:10 PM UTC
Smiles and laughter all around,
Tales of glories past abound,
Friendships lost are soon re-found,
Honoured ones have long been crowned,
Hugs and cameras at the call,
Food and drink flow free for all,
Though the snow will surely fall,
Still the party must enthral,
Wine and lager take their toll,
Soon they homeward-bound must roll,
Though time has been beyond control,
Their spirits high can never fall.
Dec 2, 2010
Dec 2, 2010 at 11:11 AM UTC
her name rung out with a chime
her heart beat in pantomime
her body reeked with surprise
her soul rested deep in her eyes
her hair flowed with silky shine
her squared smile had become mine
her lust was only surpassed by passion
her hips and gait always in fashion
her mind bold and on always fire
her lust for thought my prime desire
her touch a golden tip of grace
her beauty rested quietly in her face
her loyalty thundered at every turn
her devotion never ceased to burn
her way of placing anything at all
her assuredness all did enthral
Oct 27, 2016
Oct 27, 2016 at 10:03 AM UTC
In the hive there is movement
for one of their kind has found the silver cross
just a scout of the second level
but the hive was deemed active and all took flight
Some of the first ones found the scout
and did beat on him asking where whom and why
but the scout did not fear loss
for glory he died for the silver cross
So many miles away
where all was good and gay
the children of light
did hear of this plight
and did send
all angels ends
the last glory
the test of nature
A machine of her light
blessed to heal yet fight
a creature of darkness
who would enthral some and delight
It coughs and splatters another page
it does state it's still somewhat alive
and goodness it's come here
to destroy the bastardises of the hive
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
By NeonSolaris
© 2013 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 11:30 AM UTC
I discovered her through the shallow eyes of my oblivion, a time where the end encroached upon my bitter surrender but my fall led to my enthral into the eyes of hope.
She was the beacon of light and I, well I was a lost soul forever wondering ever so close to the edge. Her hand reaching for mine, as I reached back in the hope that I would no longer be immersed in suffering.
Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 3:50 PM UTC
should they take objection
to the stylish comb others
show
they'll vacate the others
spot in the
row
many a time this course
of action has been
depicted
where others were so
suddenly
evicted
they weren't happy
no not at
all
on seeing the others
who'd so
enthral
every bit of veneration
had to be kept on
them
even though the others were
far more exceptional of
stem
they thought that they
ruled at the
joint
so the others were abruptly
given their terse
point
we are aware of how
they
operate
which is to promptly
clear the others
plate
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 7:09 PM UTC
a sort of secret in this open yard
what is best hidden cannot be said plain
but may be whispered when the window's barred
so many stories of that concealed stain
of all the ones who went against the grain
and let the rope and leather simply fall
the beast escape from the well-guarded stall
matters like these are not beyond surmise
words might be spoken at noon in the hall
the winner is not he who gains the prize
you do not see the sign upon the card
that might be said to mark the loss or gain
of those who need to earn your good regard
the ones who speak know you will not remain
once all the symbols cease to be arcane
for what is sugar may one day be gall
that which now pleases must swiftly appall
if you aren't told that we should now advise
you must not let these foolish ways enthral
the winner is not he who gains the prize
an honest purpose may be easy marred
by those who want to tighten up the chain
and laugh and you the silly avant-garde
who seek the pleasure and forget the pain
that comes on later you cannot abstain
from taking part in the far larger brawl
that is expected when you hear the call
of the strange forces that reshape the skies
and come upon us like a sudden squall
the winner is not he who gains the prize
prince we are here for quite the longest haul
and ready for the struggle great or small
we may seem paltry to your noble eyes
but we will make it though we have to crawl
the winner is not he who claims the prize
Jul 6, 2011
Jul 6, 2011 at 5:26 AM UTC
i have always had
an unparalleled fascination
for the human body.
human anatomy to me, it seems
draws me in
like a moth to a candle.
it mesmerizes me,
to see drawings of phalanges and metacarpal bones,
all covered
like a secret lover
by smooth, knitted skin.
romeo, where art thou?
tracing pictures of the aorta and veins and arteries, i hope-
the sensual twists and turns of a capillary should fill the page.
let me bask in deltoid and trapezius muscles,
make my way to the clavicle.
let the beauty of the fragility and the strength of bodies,
divine and heaven-sent,
engross me for the decades to come:
to admire and enchant and enthral;
to hold spellbound and captivate and always intrigue me.
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 9:14 AM UTC
There songs of silence,
enthral eyes with their words,
Their beauty sings,
And your eyes do shed a tear
for it is the song unique
to each flutter,
to each sight that you behold.
The butterfly does speak to you,
but only your eyes can hear
the words of the song.
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 11:36 AM UTC
We entertain the idea that it is but a moment of
joyful bliss,
But did you share that sting?
Was it too much for a whisper of kaleidoscope
pleasures.....
There is but one ending to this eclipse of the senses.
"Either,
You float on the butterflies of enthral bliss,
Or when that needle penetrates
Its like a bullet to the brain....
There is only silence and stillness
and blood lubricates the nasal.
They say an overdose is like a bullet to the brain
but one only some are revived from....
Do you wish to play roulette to see which shot
ends your life.
Dec 7, 2016
Dec 7, 2016 at 6:17 PM UTC
What if I’d never been called Martin?
If I’d been called Malcom or Syed or Fred?
Would I have been treated any differently, would the thoughts be different in my head?
Would I have been adopted by a different couple, maybe by ones who really loved me instead?
Would I be living in a bungalow in Barnet or a thatched cottage in Hay upon Wye?
Be a scientist obsessed by nuclear fusion or a pilot spending hours in the sky.
Would I be a murderous tyrant, leaving fear, dread and bloodshed in my wake or a devotee of the divine Mary Berry, perfecting the ultimate bake?
Would stories be written about me or songs sung about me by the fire or would journalists interview my loved ones and dear ones, desperate to expose me as a liar.
What if I’d been created a monster, not even given a name at all?
Just left where my life had started. Curled up and quivering in a ball.
No one to tell me they loved me, no one to give me a hug. Just treat like a thing to recoil from, like an odious, hideous bug.
But what if someone noticed me, to whom the outside didn’t matter at all.
Who looked at the deepest core of my being and saw secrets and delights to enthral.
Who coached and nurtured and loved me and treat me with no fear or no shame and decided to call me Isaac, as
that
would
be
my
perfect
name.
Jun 27, 2019
Jun 27, 2019 at 2:05 AM UTC
Up along the snakeskin hill where palaces still hold court
where the rain comes in thick and the cloud gathers thin.
Out to the right of me the open sea.
I stab at Atlantean waves with a finger that points to the stars.
There is an eeriness as the darkness descends,
all palaces and houses of men depend upon light coming in and laughter drifting out,
this is only a summer place for living and for the eyes of the tourist a
place to enthral.
We sit at the 'Paris' in Cascais drinking tea and partaking of cake,
the crowds tumble in as we tumble out and make tracks back to the old town of Lisbon.
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 3:01 AM UTC
In angelic voice, enthral, rejoice
Of peace be s-t-i-l-l, for one fine day
A garden of dreams, over the rainbow, a daydream behold
In a graceful realm, of grace to amaze, a dawn of promising rays
Blissful skies, sunlight arise, a peaceful picture
Soul silhouette, lest we forget, royal remembrance
Together we stand, to thee, across the land
A musical language, all-embracing, casted carousel
Performance premier, shining sensational, inspirational
Hail – music of the night, dance with the stars
Tap and glide, a guiding star, something in the way……….
Just as you are
Journeying jewel, revel, jubilee
A walk through autumn leaves, in timeless reverie
Sounding soprano, crowds resonate, of joyfulness elate
Gracefulness of elegance, a time of prime
A gift given, of noble distinction
A symphony of sophistication
Due adulation, due applause, with charitable cause
Exceptional tours, over a great and mighty distance
Of services rendered, a splendour of release
Flowering duet, a radiant bloom, of times unknowing
We’ll meet again – soon
Written by Geraldine Taylor ©
Jun 11, 2017
Jun 11, 2017 at 3:18 PM UTC