"eyeful" poems
Your eyes shine with more intensity than the ocean can roar
Their image forever embedded within my mind
Reaching even the deepest crevices
Bringing light tot even the darkest depths
Awakening me from within
They're so easy to get lost in
It's like I become cloud
Lost in the vast, endlessly beautiful blue sky that is your eyes
Your eyes
Yeah
You could say I adore them.
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 3:23 AM UTC
You Are the Texture
…………………………
**~ for all of you,
you, you poet~**
Impasto
“**is a technique used in painting,
where paint is laid on an area of
the surface thickly, usually thick
enough that the brush or painting-
knife strokes are visible.
Paint can also be mixed right on
to the canvas. When dry, impasto
provides texture; the paint appears
as if, to be coming out of the canvas.**”
<1:47pm>
Cut & Paste
*is a technique used in poetry writing,
we refer back to our visions,
heard words,
the eyeful, the earful, scents,
the reads read,
all in the mind’s palette blended,
thickly, but
when
the merging fused,
every word~in~coloration,
it is unique, reincarnation,
copying impossible.
The imagery, cut and pasted from thy heart and soul,
upon canvas,
your poems~pieces each appear*
***as you-are-texture,
you becoming out of, you,
the canvas.
<2:04pm>
Postscript***
………………
it is not lost on me that the
scars, our words, herein,
as we note all too frequently,
almost casually,
are, can be, those selfsame
words/painting-knife
employed
for our first and foremost canvas we utilize,
ourselves…
our bodies,
our
very selves
salved
Jun 24, 2023
Jun 24, 2023 at 8:06 AM UTC
Eiffel Tower, camera eyeful, for love i fell to where?
Jul 5, 2015
Jul 5, 2015 at 2:04 PM UTC
The daughter of the village Maire
Is very fresh and very fair,
A dazzling eyeful;
She throws upon me such a spell
That though my love I dare not tell,
My heart is sighful.
She has the cutest brown caniche,
The French for "poodle" on a leash,
While I have Bingo;
A dog of doubtful pedigree,
Part pug or pom or chow maybe,
But full of stingo.
The daughter of the village Maire
Would like to speak with me, I'll swear,
In her sweet lingo;
But parlez-vous I find a bore,
For I am British to the core,
And so is Bingo
Yet just to-day as we passed by,
Our two dogs haulted eye to eye,
In friendly poses;
Oh, how I hope to-morrow they
Will wag their tails in merry play,
And rub their noses.
* * * * * * *
The daughter of the village Maire
Today gave me a frigid stare,
My hopes are blighted.
I'll tell you how it came to pass . . .
Last evening in the Square, alas!
My sweet I sighted;
And as she sauntered with her pet,
Her dainty, her adored Frolette,
I cried: "By Jingo!"
Well, call it chance or call it fate,
I made a dash . . . Too late, too late!
Oh, naughty Bingo!
The daughter of the village Maire
That you'll forgive me, is my prayer
And also Bingo.
You should have shielded your caniche:
You saw my dog strain on his leash
And like a spring go.
They say that Love will find a way -
It definitely did, that day . . .
Oh, canine noodles!
Now it is only left to me
To wonder - will your offspring be
Poms, pugs or poodles?
4k
From my rented attic with no earth
To call my own except the air-motes,
I malign the leaden perspective
Of identical gray brick houses,
Orange roof-tiles, orange chimney pots,
And see that first house, as if between
Mirrors, engendering a spectral
Corridor of inane replicas,
Flimsily peopled.
But landowners
Own thier cabbage roots, a space of stars,
Indigenous peace. Such substance makes
My eyeful of reflections a ghost's
Eyeful, which, envious,would define
Death as striking root on one land-tract;
Life, its own vaporous wayfarings.
2.9k
‘Flew back some of Crows to me
I helped them fly once far away,
For not to stay and eat me up!
Again and over again …
‘I tried so hard and fast I could
To stay away from Crows so black,
But no way there for me to escape
Walls and walls so high …
‘Wind of return from true to lie
Can’t deny the strongest touch,
Pleasure of surfing into the blue
Still fly there crud black Crows …
‘Black Crows chase me all the way
From dawn till dusk being breathless
Sometimes I win and lose in chain,
Sea-waves rest me at shore at night …
‘Liars taught me to catch the crows
To start a series of sins afterwards
I liked first then I came to know
Crows do deal with Lucifer’s choice …
‘Knew I was going through darkness
Just keeping faith to get a light,
At last I found there not a ray
Al least to find a way back home …
‘Home for me and home for you
Found but lost by misfortune,
So far as I try to regain,
Black Crows bar me from doing so …
‘Always tasty are forbidden fruits
Like grass is greener on other side,
Sense of reasons makes no change
You keep loving being captive …
‘So never ever catch Black Crows
must it leave you in tunnel so dark,
Even after you could find way out
You may lose your grace back there …
‘You yourself are a real touch-stone
To culture yourself among people,
Sounded bitter, should have been sweet
Wrong estimate just let you down …
‘I had two eyes but never saw
The pain emerged in parents hearts,
Watching me in black Crow’s ******
I was blind but I’ve realized now …
‘Wasted time’s now wasting me
Surely need to **** the crows,
And not to help them fly again
I wish myself to walk alive …
‘A lesson here goes to all fellows
To cure the wounds, not to endure,
The Crows will die forever too
Eyeful of ever blue sky, up there …
~ Anwar Parvez Shishir ~
05/DECEMBER/2013/THURSDAY
Jessore/Dhaka/Bangladesh
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 5:03 PM UTC
#
**Where will you be
twenty twenty
I've got news for
you aplenty**
Leave me alone let
me pilot my drone
let me fire my missiles
in a no fly zone
I don't need your permission
to release ammunition
You might as well leave if
you're looking for contrition
Rifle Rifle—wait for it wait for it
Trifle Trifle—everything's legit
Eyeful Eyeful—never can forget
Look out! I strike without warning
Splash! Try again tomorrow morning
**Liar Liar
tongues on fire
can't put out the
forest fire**
Leave me alone let
me pilot my drone
let me drop my ordnance
in a no fly zone
I don't need your permission
to release ammunition
Get in my crosshairs
You'll be headed to perdition
Rifle Rifle—wait for it wait for it
Trifle Trifle—everything's legit
Eyeful Eyeful—never can forget
Look out! I strike without warning
Splash! Try again tomorrow morning
Leave me alone let
me pilot my drone
let me fire my missiles
in a no fly zone
Here's the facts hard cold
if I may be so bold
if you really want to win
you'll have to wait till I get old
**One step forwards
two steps backwards
Once released you
can't take back words**
© 2020 Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
#
Jul 11, 2020
Jul 11, 2020 at 12:22 AM UTC
*One day ..
I will come and ask for your hand
A day that cannot wait ...
We lock the door with a key
And go inside ...
Oh my ... what I will see ..
...Oh my ... what I will hear ...
... Your sweet voice ...
That harps the heart ...
Your glamorous beauty ...
Thats full of warmth
And tenderness ...
Ye prettier than the beauty ...
... My eyeful darling ...*
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 2:19 AM UTC
Awesome animal
Magician with your amazing sleight of neck tricks
Coat of tawny spots a perfect artist painted
Your wondrous balletic grace lends mystery and eyeful daze
as we look up to you with inexpressible sorrow
aware that one day you might vanish from our smitten sight
Dec 26, 2016
Dec 26, 2016 at 7:55 PM UTC
triumvirate
the fulsome
curse word
that deformed my tongue-
the teeth
in glaze
of remnant
soap-
and the shadow
my mother’s finger
left
inside my cheek
which I coaxed
into cigarette
and scrubbed with.
divine instance
regarded by a daylight raccoon
a man tries to think of nothing.
the raccoon’s eyeful of hunger
a far off religion
the dead of which
orphaned only
a few.
the bent pipe of its back
the gnomic antique
of a raided circus.
its claws
the common salvage
of row fire.
so fully raccoon
it might’ve been
earlier
what now
it would fight.
Aug 22, 2012
Aug 22, 2012 at 2:03 AM UTC
his eyes devour me
as if, tasting scent
of skin; licked in
whispering heat
kissing my ***
tongue probing
firmness, *******
pert as eyes cast
mind's silent touch
moans escape with
each whispered
thought, he hungers
quietly shivering as
tongue skims wetness
eyes still devour as
breathless shudders
cascade breathing
in sweet intoxication
drenching us; each
****** of eyeful lust,
coalescing my sensual
need; thrusting
imagination eyes
gyrating hips; lips
quiver as kiss sears
flesh awakening
senses to a creamy
deluge
cascading between lips
yearn, as eyes gaze;
frenzied, planting seed;
pulsing to completion
eyes harden member
ready to explode, lips tease
gaze still tasting soft
skin in need; connecting
bodies within curvature of
us, taking our breath away
giving in to my needs
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 2:29 PM UTC
i want to let it
go
like a balloon, watch it
float
up to it's heavenly
mortality
close my eyes with sick
pleasure
scream out a sigh, let it
fly
let every breath be a
kiss
and every eyeful a
gift
presented by the esteemed chorus
of my heartbeat
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 5:22 PM UTC
Was Annabelle just a woman in Poe’s dream?
Was there really an angel on Janet Frame’s wooden table?
Did Emily Dickinson really wear white for the rest of her life?
Was Dante just a bitter ***** to tell people about a red man with horn’s on his head
Didn’t think it was Halloween too soon on the corner of his calendar
I resembled all the traits these writer’s made of their spoken lives just like Bukowski
If he did live in many rooms and lost his brain cells in bottles
Maybe in the afterlife Burroughs will give me pointers on drugs along with Thompson. Meeting Rimbaud ask him if he ever was in the closet. Took an eyeful of literature before high school, made friends with boozers, losers and psychopaths. Don’t quote me because I cherish them so much I know I’ll try to make it like them soon, dead yet my heroes they remain alive
WRITE ME OFF WRITE ME OFFF Write me down there’s no pen and papers around scrawl on the wall have a purpose to write them all
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 9:43 AM UTC
Sunset covered faces,
hearts dissolved into the color orange,
outside the window,
an eyeful of violet haze,
the gentian blue leaves crawling,
up the rhombic wind,
The evening sky was a book,
the clouds were the contents,
the wind a flowing annotation,
and the flying birds,
were mobile illustrations.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 11:38 AM UTC
Under the wooden beams,
My quivering fingers dancing on the keyboard,
Its soft grip fragile, compounded.
The sound resonating
Across the verge of the table,
Sinking slowly in a circuit,
Punching seamless letters on the screen.
The books speak to me
But I don't hear.
Its words oozing out the page,
Begging to be read
In horrid silence.
A silence so bitter and loud,
A choiring quiver of voices
Landing on each surface,
Bouncing off into the unknown, light abyss
Of the third floor.
The lights flicker,
The books remain printed.
An eyeful of piercing moments
Unhinge the flow.
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 2:29 PM UTC
Neelam Gill showed off her figure in a very risqué gown with a split running from her shoulder down past her bottom.
How cheeky - Neelam Gill went all-out on Wednesday night as she flashed her *** in a rather risque dress.
The stunning model - who is rumoured to be dating former One Direction man Zayn Malik - stunned at a glitzy event in London this week.
Wearing a floor-length green gown, Neelam gave onlookers a bit of an eyeful with a split down the back of the outfit, revealing a hint of her bottom.
With layers and a front split showing off a lot of leg, the 20-year-old certainly made an impression during the party.
She stepped out at the London Evening Standard's Progress 1000 Most Influential People launch, and showed why she may have grabbed Zayn's attention .
The star - who has made her catwalk debut for Burberry - is reportedly planning on jetting to Los Angeles, where the singer is working on his debut solo album, so they can spend some time together .
According to Mail Online, Zayn and Neelam first met in London back in March, but nothing happened because he was still engaged to Little Mix star Perrie.
They bumped into each other again at the Asian Awards in London a month later, with Neelam later writing on Twitter: "Congratulations on your award tonight zaynmalik, catch up again soon!"
The pair reportedly stayed in touch as friends until Zayn and Perrie called it quits at the end of last month.
A source told the site: "Neelam doesn't know if she wants all of the drama that comes with dating someone in the public eye. She is going to LA to spend some time with Zayn and see how things go from there.
Last month, the model, who worked with Romeo Beckham in Burberry's Christmas advert last year , wrote on Twitter: "to live and die in LA, it's the place to be..."
read more:www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-adelaide
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 1:59 AM UTC
Fortune, fortune…fortunate son of prophecy
Preaches his sermon to the masses of relentless ones
A boy child with blond dusty hair, big bulging blue eyes with fair complexion stands by
Listening to the sermonizer as he delivers his powerful words of peaceful kindness
A kingly man speaks ******* as the statements shift forward in a timely matter
Plains of destructive aftermaths, horizons of thronged hysteria
Captivates the surroundings, laying in the background like plagues in biblical portions
“Raise my son, this is the day we shall rise and go onward... the time is now to rebuild”
States the preacher’s blessed father as he be troves his scriptures with tightened grip
Child becomes man that very day, setting forth his striving ambitions
Letting go of his childhood memories with a fight to change what once went wrong
Standing in the darkest hour of his destiny, he becomes tame with greater conviction
It will be no easy task knows the boy; he will set forth with courageous tidings
Bravery will stand the test of time, witnessing the spiritual uplifting momentums
Kingly man stands in the way of his convictions, for he is a self loather
Built to the hilt in muscle and stubbornness filling his belt buckle
His abilities hold him from ever knowing life’s greatest mysteries
Diabolically he counts the steps of world ********** standing taller than any man before him
But it is he who will be overran by Prophetic Son of the Holy Spirit
The land as far as any man can see lay in grey ****** rubble
Ambiance of ash strewn clouds fogged the earth’s surface
Causing transportive means to get choked out, shutting down the crossroads of societies
However to the man child, who stood the chance of defeat. Saw nothing of this sort
He looked out onto the existing landscape and saw roadways paved of solid gold
Trees blooming with fully bloomed cherry blossoms, and fields of floral arrangements
The king did not like anything of the sort, so he tried and tried to foil the rehabilitation
Of the groves of smiling girls and playful boys while the elders cheerfully applaud
However the kingly man became overrun by the source of his own allegations
Turned the cheek and gave way to the man who once was a child, the day stays brighter
on the other side of reality looked around to adore what you have set before your very own eyeful delight
Apr 21, 2010
Apr 21, 2010 at 11:13 AM UTC
Shish kebabs
shish kebabs
that's all they have
Miriam said
as she sat
at the bar
of the base camp
in Morocco
I sat smoking
and drinking a Bacardi
they do salads
I said
in long French loaves
I have those
they’re healthier
and quite filling
she looked down
her nose
can't just have salad
she said
must have meat
of some kind
well don't look at me
I’m too skinny
for a decent meal
she laughed
and sat
closer to me
at the bar
can you get me a drink?
sure what you having?
same as you
ok
Bacardi and coke it is
so I asked
the bar keep
for her drink
and he went off
to get it
a cigarette hanging
from his lower lip
what did you think
of the belly dancer
last night?
I asked
not my thing
she said
but I see you liked it
yes it was a good experience
heard about them
but never
seen one before
last night
I said
the bar keep
brought her drink
and I paid him
he went off
and I said
how did you sleep?
not good
I had Moaning Minnie
with me
and she moaned
because I came in
the tent at 3am
what time
do you call this?
she moaned
some of us
are trying to sleep
she moaned on
for ages after
I think she was moaning still
in her dreams
I suppose you slept?
she said
yes I crept in my tent
and fell asleep over
my suitcase
I was too **** tired
to move it
and the ex-army guy
was zeroed
lucky you
not really
I would rather
have had you there
than him
snoring like some bear
what makes you think
I’d sleep with you?
you did the other night
after the beach party
she sipped her drink
and looked
at the menu card
that was different
she said
yes it was
I said
we went in your tent
and Moaning Minnie
came in
and turfed me out
Miriam smiled
if she'd come
five minutes earlier
she'd have got
an eyeful
yes that
would have been
a bundle of laughs
Miriam ordered
a salad roll
and sipped
her Bacardi and coke
I sipped mine
and enjoyed my smoke.
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 2:30 AM UTC
Are we living in a dream, girl?
You look better than my dream girl.
You're all that and a bag of chips.
I kinda laugh when you mad as ****
Cuz that face you make's adorable,
I feel like Napoleon, your body is explorable.
Yea, cuz you relieve the stress in me.
One touch, you caressing and ********** me.
Need a hero? Well, I could be your great knight
Lost in the clouds, you're an angel, we could take flight.
This love? you should never bottle it.
Perfection, baby girl, you embody it!
I hope you say 'I do'.
I'll do anything or try to.
There's nothing I won't buy you
Baby, it's no lie, i think you are my idol.
Soo, please do not stay idle.
Such a beauty, you're an eyeful.
Now can I get a pieful?
I'm your hero, you're the princess in my Hyrule.
Like a bird, babe I'm fly, boo.
You got me feeling high, too.
I swear I'll make you mine soon.
1 outta 10, you are a 5... times two.
Jan 5, 2012
Jan 5, 2012 at 9:12 AM UTC
I am an open book, yet not a long one.
However, I seem to not be easily read.
I am not tucked into a nook or cranny, but know some
Sticky pages should be pried to see inside my head.
At times, I feel like a journal of dreams,
Scrawled into and left beside a bed.
My cover, it alternates, older and sewn with intricate seams.
My author is only He who bled.
Do I have a title?
No, yet I was named with a purpose.
It would be unfortunate to find me an eyeful,
And stop when you have yet to scratch the surface.
I can only pray for my pages to add
Substantially to my true story.
To see experiences passed down to younger ages, I would be glad,
To share true wisdom before I am in glory.
I am an open book, but certainly not a long one
I want to share love any way possible and be blessing
Either a single work or in volumes, how ever it is done
It should be one that only adds to life, never lessening.
Aug 14, 2016
Aug 14, 2016 at 1:08 AM UTC
Polished clean
among evergreens.
Under Winter's
eyeful watch.
And Spring bows in,
Her slender wrists
and waist
ankles dusted in
wat'ry show and ice and
Leaves.
I watch Her dance the cold away.
I hid in branches, ever green,
despite the snow and ice and leaves.
Despite the cold and
vacant Winter.
Strength in spite
in spite of death.
But when She comes, they
stand with pride, they
welcome Spring's sun
shine.
Reluctance because I know,
I know She'll love the maid
of Summer, who woos
the gent of Fall, who's slane
each time by Winter's beast.
And yet, my friends, they stay, ever
Ever Green.
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 10:33 PM UTC
Eyeful of tears
Mindful of fears
Are the only arrears
She left
That depressed soul
Created a big hole
By leaving her role
In poetry
That decomposed smile
Melted me for a while
I traveled many a mile
For her
Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 4:14 AM UTC
*I am looking in the mirror tirelessly you know
As it is mirroring you from tip to toe
It is taking much time to dress
As I am wearing your interests
But in the end I look eyeful*
Bharti
Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 12:56 AM UTC