the     way        he
tilted    his    head
was mesmerizing
the      fact      that
he  actually cared
was      surprising
the    manner    of
his        eloquence
was     tantalizing

What a beautiful thing it is !
A Canvas that speaks a lot
Wow ! an artist’s soul
That try to speak a lot
From the window of canvas
To the doors of sky
Till the depth of ocean
In the romancing moonlight
And spreading its vastness
As the fragrance
Of night blooms
Until the sunrise
Again from morning dews
To chirping birds
Snowy mountains
To windy breeze
A moving cloud
And even from rain to rainbow
All is possible
With the tip of a brush
Is a marvellous thing
That depicts an artist’s heart

An art is a creation
Of an artist
Which is made
In different colours
With different paints
And in different shades
But all in one canvas
Makes an effective painting
Which can never die
As an artist’s soul
That is lightning forever
As a magical lantern

Some paintings speaks a lot
Like stories to us
When it starts speaking
The whole image depicts
It’s originality
As an original photo
Of some place
And that really can lost us
Somewhere as in the canvas

Even eyes of a portrait
Speaks a lot
When we stare in that eyes
It seems as the person is gazing
As a living person is standing in front of us
Which feels like a real photo
And it really makes
An unbelievable painting
Which is like giving life
To the non living thing
Within the canvas
By an artist
Or like a flower bloomed
In the hands of an artist

Canvas that speaks a lot
Really shows true heart
Of an artist’s creation
A beautiful creation
By ones own hands
Mesmerise all of us
With no time
Like an original picture
Taken with a camera
Of high resolution
Is something to adore
With the hearts of love

Canvas that speaks a lot
Is a graceful creation
That makes us wonder
Which is a miracle
In hands of an artist
That remains its effect
For life time
And that make
An artist
Different from others

Canvas that speaks a lot
Is a creation of art
When an artist starts
To move his hand on canvas
It starts to speak a lot
From the sincerity of love
To the beauty of a nature
Sparkling eyes of a human
And the depth of a sea
All that beautiful creation
Of Godly things
Is once more painted
With the help of an artist’s brush
Is something that speaks
For a lifetime
With thousands of words
In one image
Is an exemplary
Creation of humane
In a canvas

Canvas that speaks a lot
With voice of heart
Beats in every hearts
And in all eras

An artist is like a lantern
That lightens other lights
And a canvas is a mirror
Of an artist’s soul
That reflects the lights  
For lifetime
Which was once lit
By an artist
With a great deal
Who was owned
By an eloquent soul.

Your eyes can implode supernovas,
summon waves at the bottom of the sea;
swallow the abyss in me.

Throw me a line

I don't care if it rhymes

As long as it tickles
my posterior cingulated cortex

Spin me a vortex of spells

Yarn me a tale

Take me to heaven
or your own personal hell


Mesmerise me
with your poemetry.

A Lover Should ......
Enchant
Your soul
Mesmerise
Your mind
While bewitching
Your body
Fitting together
Like the proverbial glove
Treasure
Your dreams
Share
Your sorrows
See eternity
Hidden in your eyes
Leap
Into the unknown
Be brave
And true
Honour
Their own heart
Love
Themselves too
Fascinate
Captivate
Elevate
Take your breath away
Lie spellbound in your arms
Cherish your value
A Lover Should
Only ....
Love
You .....

(C) Pixievic

Bewildered and haunted through flashes of memories that relive themselves
I sit and ponder and look into the sky
there is no pain greater than been lost in SELF
battling with a STRONG shadow called SADNESS
she stalks and haunts and bring you moments of agony
she comes along with her sister ANGUISH
and they taunt you,
galvanising and pinpointing your mind to the PAST you left behind






OH SADNESS!!!!!
have you not rendered men a roaming wretch for years?
are you not content with the tears you have drank from your millions of subscribers?
are you not pained because of happiness and her many gifts?
when will you leave the vulnerable ones and stop feeding on their weaknesses?
for how long will you continue to taunt MEN with their horrible past and perceived failure?







You are hopeless and weak and so you feed on people's misery alongside with your heartrending sister called ANGUISH
Leave us alone,
for we do not want to commune with you
you are meant to die alone,
but you have garnered so many souls as your followers
reminding them of their most terrible past
conjuring pieces of AGONY
and feeding them with misery's venom
you are a witch SADNESS
and you dwell in the dark
you mesmerise us with beautiful tragedies and allure us into your cavernous seeking kingdom

ARISE
eschew sadness
before she infects you with her incurable disease
SADNESS has no home
and so she roams*

Ovi Odiete© 2016  All Rights reserved.

That crude-spoken Sovereign commands a big stick,
runs the world into ruins, once our bailiwick.
Questioned why, He grins grimly, pale lips slightly pursed:
"Vindication? Straightforward: It's Me and Me First".

(To mesmerise people He’s conjured His spells
with the pride and the power that Lucifer sells –
using tricks of the trade, evil voodoos well-versed
well engendered His mojo: "It's Me and Me First").

His friends (not His foes) form the skeletal men
along trails of dead ends (for they're armed once again)
and they're counting the bones of the bodies dispersed
by His bombastic lyrics: "It's Me and Me First".

The crater walls crumble, the dust drapes and smothers,
as drummers drown screams in the dreams of the others –
while beating and throbbing, like red veins aburst,
bleating echoes redouble: "It's Me and Me First".

A warrior departed to fight for His flag
and returned as a body brought back in a bag;
alas, such are the stories of soldiers coerced
by the Devil's damnation: "It's Me and Me First".

Beneath His thick thumb, the deprived do and die,
when subjected to whims, promised pie in the sky –
yes, His heavy hand rules, and the weaklings be cursed
for accepting His sermon: "It's Me and Me First".

He's minding our business by forging fake fears
and He'll serve and protect as the bogeyman nears
by ensuring our fantasies' phantoms are nursed,
smirking: "why should you worry, It's Me and Me First".

The media moguls flash news so fantastic –
their hearsay on Honcho's forever elastic
with doctrine and hogwash and hype interspersed
'twixt the dictums of hell and of "Me and Me First".

The masses partake in His royal cavalcades
giving chase to the hearses in midnight parades
through the catacomb caves where we're falling headfirst
down the bottomless pit of "It's Me and Me First".

The children in ghettos, like slave mutineers,
vainly venture to flee before youth disappears
but their ship's on an ocean that can't be traversed
for their sails line the abyss of "Me and Me First".

While His Highness drives oxen, He's sipping champagne
thinking "each shares a trough so that none need complain",
but the water hole's drying, we're dying of thirst,
so says "sorry you guys but It's Me and Me First".

A drifter once hinted behind weary tears
"overall the world's dying or so it appears";
He replied with a flash and a sudden outburst:
"yes, but who really cares when It’s Me and Me First"?

In Great Again moments we get the DT's
from His paranoid penchants, quite like a disease,
one which spots us, then rots us, then worse comes to worst
when He utters "just Trust Me: It's Me and Me First".

When profits are plunging (approaching the pits)
He won't give up the ghost or start calling it quits,
instead purges our pockets; again reimbursed,
says (re-groping His kitty): "It's Me and Me First".

The King condescends to a sharing charade
by dispensing desserts at the penny arcade –    
yet while crawling for crumpets, the crowds are dispersed
being slogged by the slogan: "It's Me and Me First".

When faced with the facts, He's the Greatest denier
that global abuse means all life may expire –
He scoffs at the thought that it can't be reversed,
says "it's not about you, no: It's Me and Me First".

With profits performing, He smiles, misinforming  
- of weather that's warming (whilst whirlwinds twist, storming),
- of jungles conforming to nature deforming,
- of bees no more swarming, thawed glaciers transforming
bold mountains to molehills on sand bars submersed –
can the earth persevere when: "It's Me and Me First"?

                        EPILOG
If you're feeling unsettled, there's no need to fret
for it's all a delusion, and lest we forget
He repeats His old mojo (a line well-rehearsed):
"just like almighty Yahweh: It's Me and Me First".

                      EPITAPH
The remains of the deserts and wasteland lie here
where the vacuum implodes and the silence is sere
when retelling the tales of the sagas immersed
in the mythos and legends of "Me and Me First".

The stone statuettes (swapping vain epithets)
consigned rational threats (those that wisdom begets)
to their nothingness nets spread in dank oubliettes,
losing aberrant bets with no real regrets
(scorning pale silhouettes that the conscience besets).

Nonetheless, when the cosmos and chaos conversed
they but hee-hawed the hubris of "Me and Me First”.

Yes, me too often indulge in romance
But not a tale of this body & brains
It is all a godly play of my heart & soul
When sadness prevails, myself is lost in dreams.

When the body is sleeping
and lust is mild
My soul awakes and fly
Searching for another of matching kind.

Dream of deep romance with flirting moon
Growing on a puff of cloud
Hugging to my chest a glistening star,
Songs of mid- night are hyptonising & loud.

Busy myself in mundane affairs
No other heart yells, I did take care
GLOOM- my childhood buddy stayed with me
Till I found one noble soul- my heavenly stair.

I don't wish touch of her fingers
Creeping to mine,
No beating ******* & cheek to cheek
All this I feel is a SIN & crime.

Teasing mouth with kisses till one speak,
May be a frantic fad for the mortals and weak,
Her soft- silken voice gives immense delight
'Sweet & kindly smile' only is
what I seek.

No staring gaze, no trembling lips
No drowsy & close- pressed head,
No sensual music,
to make me mad.
No claustrophobia of red- light lanes,
No shattered hopes, no broken window- panes.

Diamonds & gems are worthless, I loathe
Her smiling glance mesmerise and allure,
Blossomed to perfection, she is near to God,
Simple, sober, wise and pure.

Don't mind, what her sharp brain
think of me,
But, I do take care that
her noble soul finds nothing obnoxious & unvirtuous in
mortal me.

Aeonic feelings I cannot draw on canvas,
My sorrowful eyes remain unseen- Oh Dear,
What she needs is a pair of stronger glasses
than the normal ones she usually wear.

Swim around in whirlpool of human emotions,
shunned & lonely I did FEEL,
But, when found her dilemmas & loneliness deeper than mine,
Felt 'DIVINE CONNECTION' with her noble soul
And now I smile and sing with heavenly zeal.

Mukesh Kataria

when I saw you,
my mind flew like a bird,
I couldn't think,
nor reason,
neither could I utter a word,
I grew goose pimples
all over me,
and mesmerise your glamour,
watching you pass-by

Feather is a tiny hope
That can fly
With no more rope

And lot of feather
In its wings
Soothes our inner soul
To never give up
In life

A tiny hope of feather
Filled in full of wings
Is ready to fly
At any time
To reach its destination

Whether weather is bad or good
Whether there is dark cloud

Feather give positive vibes
During all around the seasons

Feather in every weather
Makes a cooling effect
In our lives

Let’s be kind
To the owners of tiny hope
And give some water
In every summers
To keep fresh those feathers
Which mesmerise us with
It’s feathery wings
To keep going
Without a quit

Chocolate coloured eyes.
Mesmerise me every time.
Your cherry red lips.
Your moonlight glow.

Everything about you makes my heart swell.
It's twice as big.
I can feel it pound.
Every beat resonating.

Is this a teenage dream?
You make me so warm inside.
My face goes red.
And that's only when we talk.

Even though we're worlds apart.
I can feel you near me.
The sky we see is not the same.
But that's okay.

I can take a white rocket.
Go wherever you are.
The clouds and stars in the sky.
Are nothing compared to the beauty you are.

Every time you smile, a love song plays.
You do something crazy to me.
I try to hide what I feel.
But I can't whenever I'm with you.

I don't usually write poems.
Not for other people, at least.
But for you, I'll write these words.
My soul imprinted on your screen.

You mean so much to me.
Calling me something tame like "Cutie" kills me.
Do you not realise how much power you have?
You're the reason I wake up in the morning.

The seasons will change.
But my love will stay the same.
My feelings haven't lingered this long before.
So just read these words before I forget how to say them.

but of course, the three families of a continent,
and many aunts and uncles and distant relations,
as if to say: but in the flood of swarm
whether by twirling zephyrs or foaming seas,
whether certain inaudible sounds of the seen things,
hinging with a creak or a squeak as a condensed
copper, whether it was man who's history
was bound by a envious hunger for the alchemical
crown, from rotting in oxidation iron,
to mandible copper, then through to the metalloid
age of silicon - to the stiff-winged birds of aluminium
and elsewhere still the blood metal desires:
the blood metal of ******, piracy, ransom,
or necessary imitation and all kinds of fraud -
if to mesmerise the human eye and turn the human
heart into a magpie's, if not kept in check by the
voluntary beggars of appearance, as those great buddhas
of the renaissance, under borgias or a sixtus or a julius;
'he who desires to possess the earth,
       let claim by only sitting in silence.'
                                                      ­(adam mickiewicz)

She's got brown eyes,
But it took her years,
Before she finally realised,
That his love was lies;

She's got brown eyes,
It lights up when she smiles,
But it takes her many tries,
For happiness she denies;

She's got brown eyes,
That tell stories of surprise,
An ending one would not reprise,
For it progresses till it dies;

She's got brown eyes,
Oh how they mesmerise,
Even the cowardly of mice,
And heartbreakers in disguise.

@byizn

wrap yourself closely to me
pull your past identity
reminiscence we're anxious to quit
we'll coast effortlessly
I swear I'll keep my eyes on what's ahead
it's an hourglass spent
both terminals are beginning to lapse
we've exchanged so much
it's resistance that's supplied us courage
we're not figurative
we're not carbon copies
no coin to mesmerise or evoke memory
sweating, acting
it seems peculiar
wrap ourselves closely again

-c.j.

Verse 1
If there’s a time, if there’s a place, for you I’d truly wait
Our love endures from page to page
To mesmerise, to synchronise and so epitomise
Steps of harmony throughout the age

Chorus
A bright horizon, such a blissful scene
An awesome treasure, held in high esteem
Joining forces, solid as a team
You are, you are
Love’s unfolding dream

Verse 2
To visualize, to recognise, true love that defies
Soaring high beyond the skies
A seasoned fall, to give my all, delightfully enthrall
A beloved dream now realised

Chorus

Bridge
Love’s unfolding, love’s unfolding dream
Love’s unfolding, love’s unfolding dream
Love’s unfolding, love’s unfolding dream
You are, you are, love’s unfolding dream

Written by Geraldine Taylor ©️

And she became one with the dust specks swirling in the Janaury mornings chilly breeze
Drifting along as if she had no other care in the world, smiling to and fro
Always in the front row trying to help others find warmth in her soft kind words of glow
When in fact she carried the weight of the complicated on her two shoulders alone
But she'd always be too shy to ask others for help
for fear of them thinking she was unthinkablely selfish indeed, although,

Although she was, far more complex to be understood at first glimpse truth be told
and when she fell
it sometimes took most time to see
It was most probably because they all believed
She had become nothing more than just a swirling dust speck
Swirling in the early mornings of January chilly breeze

Falling invisibly only visibly seen
when was she back on her feet
because what good was she if she couldn't be of use to those in need?
And who could ever be sure she was anything more?
Than just pretty tricks of the light
A play on your eyes only alive to mesmerise and not really existing for a purpose
Other than to please the people
But she was the realest thing you ever knew
And one day....

She'll be the one you'll wish you spent more time noticing too.

Our cell has expanded.
Walls which were once eight-by-nine now extend infinitely.
The grey cracks in the walls run like rivers into the oval seams.
The window is now a barred prism of light from which we peer into the nigredo, rising from the mud with mercurial orb.
The mould is now a jungle on which I rest my *****—
This is the light of God which cascades across our concrete walls.
My cellmate is my lover and we both sit naked in the east wing,
Within the darkened hall.
Scars now etch across my body, from my ******* down to my rancid *****.
Sunlight no longer shines through our window;
We hide from the beams and from the insects which mesmerise with their shimmering forms.
And we hear the cries from our brothers whose cells do not expand, but contract;
And we hear the raptures of those whose cells have transcended physical forms
And can be reached into like the membranous, astral walls.

it has three eyes
to mesmerise

you never know when it is winking

seducing

you never know what it is thinking

deducing

it is always
just tricking
and tricking.

its a neighbor
i want to light
a fire of
to their house
but its connected to mine
so i sit
and i consider,

smoking cigarettes
with a can of gas
as an ash tray
to pass the night
and that racket
they make.

with my foot tapping
on the foot
of a chair
in the yard.

Spacious splendour trapped in an airless cage
my mind bends in the undercurrents of rage
What was it I last heard spoken in the fragments of peace
Jason escapes the Argonauts-The Fleece?

Draped across his shoulders still dripping warmish blood
Noah and his cranky yacht-floating in the flood
Did Jesus really turn the loaves and fishes into food
Or did he mesmerise the masses to make it sound so good?

The 'whispers' that I speak of are outside human thought
Like pearls so locked in shells that divers bravely fought
Once it breaks the surface, the bargaining then begins
Vanity a thirst, unable to conquer sins

These whispers that I speak of, are quiet in a storm
They won't support the Thunder or any peaceful calm
They are just words so placed in har-mony
They may mean so little-but more than you can see!
Author Notes

Yeah. That's it. All symbolism encased in oyster shells. You have to dig deep to find out what I mean? If you do find out, write me a comment. Its okay if its a nasty one. I'm used to brickbats. Evolutionary processes have made me develop a thick skin! Thanks

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago

Wind through my hair
Cotton patches paint the sky
Dancing little lights
A view so common
Yet has its own charms
Mesmerise and bedazzle
A night like this
Though simple
Precious and remembered