Long Enticingly Poems
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Deep ocean of azure blue
Overhead seagulls circling flew
In constant motion, heaving sides
The old merchant ship upon it rides
Rust scorched it's barnacled coat
Salt encrusted railings forever afloat
On the horizon's sinking sun's amber glow
Beckons enticingly along the flow
New moon appearing from out of the west
Silvery waves splintering against foamy crest
Figures emerging from the hold below
Peering skywards at the star studded show
Then into action to each their appointed task
Some heaving ropes, others mounting the mast
All working together to achieve one aim
To secure the sails aloft the bounteous main
A rumble of thunder and a flash lightening sound
Mountainous waves gather pace all around
Working in unison the crew now complete
All tasks meritorious as a well drilled fleet
A shout from the Captain, as the thunder roars
Urgently gesticulating "secure the oars"
Rain clashing as in sword play
Freeze drench they stand
As they see the top sail rend
Now all secured they disappear down
Below decks they ruminate
All worrying, no sound
Then vocal in assumptions from mate to mate
Until the Captain shouts "Silence no need for this din,
I shall calculate our bearings, now where to begin?"
Spreading out his charts he clears cups for a space
Each man concentrating, deep intent on each face
"Look Captain", one points "there's the Cape of Good Hope
enough time to manoeuvre and with luck stay afloat"
The temperature plummets and the crew mill around
No warmth except mittens and blankets draped around
The storm is abating and two bells is called
As each man takes turn to pump until hauled
Buckets of water overboard they keep on
Clearing sea water over gunnels, until all is gone
Ship breaking water all in it's wake
No matter the weather only headway to make
Dolphins leaping and diving below
Thoughts turn to seamen of long ago
Royal Navy Standards, a jolly jack tar
Plotting each course by the Northern Star
Pirate vessels hoisting their skull and crossbones
Biting winds moaning and pelting hailstones
Sailing ships with elaborate sails
Above the wind, sailors hearty hales
Anchorage sought and a comfortable berth
Homeward port reached and feet on the earth.
VOICES”
There are voices crying out loud screaming for help in the wilderness
In need of spiritual healing Im uncertain if anyone else even notice or are they hearing them
They are lost and broken draped in total despair
Thirsty spiritually starving in famine visually impaired
Chewed up and swallowed by the noxious cracks of the asphalt
After relentlessly roaming the undefeated streets
Blind tunnel vision in survival mode they could never compete
Devoured by the trauma in life they simmered in their bottomless pits of defeat
Mis-led by lack
Neglected in lax they would impulsively react
Wearing careless unnecessary consequences across their backs
Immune to daily afflictions
Their paradise was the hood that they live in
Tragedy, Poverty, Hustling, Guns, Death
Fatherless figures oppressed
Driven by currency as the enemy put them to its test
In their minds streetlife is the only life I know mentality dressed
Our young minorities are now the soldiers on the front lines making ruckus
Enticingly introduced to straps they’re lost their focus
Juvenile bred hitman so the stiff felonies wont stand a chance
How can we reach and assist them to cope with their voids
Without any possibilities of hope how could we approach
The lost and broken toys
Thats in the wilderness making all that noise
How can we manage their self-sabotaging outlets of addictions
Whats healing and fixing
The abusing distributing or using
Premeditated death dates
Suicidal temptations another form of escape
The mind is a battlefield and its hard to find peace in the midst of confusion when life on life terms get real
So their reality is only an illusion in the midst of their confusion
I hear voices crying out loud in the wilderness
And I pray that someone reach them in enough time to heal them
Before this lurking evil kill or steal them
Lets be the beacon that guides them toward the light
Exposing them to a more significant purpose
Oppose to living life so reckless and worthless
Expressing to them that all things are possible with a reach
You can find your significance by defying the odds if you just stop and listen to the words that the redeemer speaks
A change will come
Even with gradual progression we all will eventually overcome and make it to our real paradise up in heaven
Voices
CHAKRAS BOLD
HE designed root red via
a laugh so raucous creating
world wild rumbling random
rubies rolled ruling red
thunderous winds whirling
shimmering shocking floods
Emperor Supreme spearing
stimulate Mother channels
birthing babes to cuddle
sword sheath bloody
red is my beneath !
HE designed my womb
occult oracle orange
oceanic openings obliging
receive that which swims
into the deep to hear
obituaries or observe
creation’s octahedral
cathedrals octaving to
behold bold olive and oak
OM is where I rest divine
operatic orange sublime
HE designed my navel
with its surrounds golden
solar yellow mighty ignite
magnetise miracles for
better sight savouring
power for hours exuding
fires roaring pouring will
enduring strength for miles
and miles adoring gold
burnished bold plexus
platinum yellow nexus
HE designed my Heart
full blown DaVinci art
Picasso could not compete
green moss spring soft
therein pirouetted daisies
in swirling whorls fading
Mozart’s maddening
crescendoes crying
veils upon veils to
enticingly whisper
‘Come, bride, come’
HE designed my throat
a singing topaz blue
so true to cobalt hues
anew each teal
dolphin silent sprang
Truth trout sighed
sky blue signal smoke
softly sowed sweet
royal kaleidoscopes
herald harmonic hopes
pop songs wrote
HE designed forehead a
deep indigo isle circled
in vintage fashion
twisted ivy presented
EYE of all eyes an
empress ringlet ruffle
to and fro pondering
pupils so deep diving
turbulent storms to keep
in comfort who adores
my adorings roly holy
On my head Valentine
Supreme valanced a
valuable vortexed venture
vaned a thousand petals
a halo not exposed to
winged shadows shady
so my wondrous wispy
wisdoms you may emit
from this lotus crown fast
feather ferns fathom to
fit fetish dream atoms
O ! Lord of Lords !
in red orange gold
green blue indigo
white to sight heights
I bathe in your colours
behold arms embrace
so chaste to post my
poems in coloured
posies haste so
comely these chakras
choralling
©GhairoDanielsPoetry
&Song2025
Hues of a darker shade, cascading across skies of illusion....
Evaporating waterfalls, of lustful desires and want
Brought forth amid fairytale words, from within fantastical thoughts
And I thought, shall I sell my soul, for their very own, desperate and lost?
I would rather smile at the stars, and, walk away from it all!
Then to ensnare myself within satans lies and delusions....
Of disappearing phantasms, that shall never see the light
Beyond these shadows of alluring and enticing, beguile
Cloaked in the dripping blood, red, of eternal fate
How precious and colorful, vibrant the flower seems to grow....
Before the desperate eyes, cast, into the darkness' chambers
As it whispers its soothing, and wistfully wanton assurances?
While sprinkling its fabricated moondust, upon these emptying souls....
Walking through this mystic wonderland of waste
Wherein shadows beckon and call, dangling their dreams of desirable
Treasures and promises, that their blackened hands, could never truly hold
Except, in these fantasies of tomorrows nothingness....
While singing these songs of hopeful yearnings, that they, shall never know!
Perishing, within the firey flames, that engulf, their abrasive sight
As pretending to be more, than satans very own, offspring
Stealing lives and shattering souls, with lovely portraits that sound
So ambitiously sweet, until, reality comes, to carry them forever away....
Not upon spectacular prisms of golden rainbows, or endless oceans, of emerald blue tides
Nor, glittering cosmic trails of stardust, which encircle, their gasping final breaths!
But within rushing rivers of sorrows crimson, cold....
Trading their eternal paradise, for a fairytales devisable fantasy, sold
To a ghost of sugar laced words, spoken, enticingly, from the tombs of a corpse
Pretty thoughts and pretty things, created, by the prince of hell, himself!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
....Stealing Souls....
Form:
She senses before she sees
The manicured nails - the elegant fingers
Holding out the hundred dollar bills - enticingly - so temptingly
A generous nights takings of busking here
In one proffered hand
She grabs at it petrified it might be an illusion
Evaporating in a puff of smoke
Fingers hold it back, teasingly
Compelling eye contact
She looks up sceptically
Dark eyes meet her aqua blues, sparking a sort of affinity
‘Eyes are the window of one’s soul’- so it is said in all sincerity
But the magnetic dark eyes of her enticer are fathomless in their intensity
His type she has encountered before - money for favours
Well she is no novice - a living after all - a girl has to make
And his generous offer rivals his devilish good looks
But she senses a darkness favouring the energy emanating
A cold shiver runs through her veins like someone just walked on her grave
Fear ripples down her spine akin to a stroking finger chilled in ice
The spell he casts foreboding
The calmness of the night has taken flight
In its haste to set the macabre scene
Mesmerising are the eyes that bore into hers
Projected thoughts furtively slip into her mind
Infiltrating it like a slithery snake
Bringing with it forbidden thoughts of desire
She falls into the inky black abyss
Succumbing to heady dark passionate conceptualization
However the chilling message is coherent
This is not a mere opportunistic one night stand
That he desires
This is more - so much more
This is taboo concupiscence unleashed
This is her life in exchange for what?
Her life for immortality?
Surely not!
Yet his eyes eloquently convey it all
The hunger so unconcealed - so transparently flagrant
To yield to darkness
Satisfying his appetite for
Death of a different nature?
Obliteration of life as she knows it to be
Tenebrous Immortality in exchange for her blood
A prelude to his finale of taking her soul
And then a metamorphosis
From Prey to Predator
Video clip -
Like a Vampire- Catrien Maxwell
by Michaelw1two
Antilegomena, a direct transliteration from the Greek, refers to written texts whose authenticity or value is disputed
Exclusion, the reasoned gist, of this nation’s present trends,
revised, reworked, reworded, towards what particular ends;
enticingly so, provision’s rend, unseemingly my thought’s portend,
nonresonant replies to this crude haste, that truth, secrecy prepend.
Importance and what is valid truth, appears to earn no worth,
where written words once applied some proof, the dillies dallied smirk;
neither, nether, needling needs, advanced by domineering corporate jerks,
suggestion’s jest, provides resounding tiff, to amerika’s dullard’s mirth.
Warrants placed, once trusting bets, that each participant did solemnly swear,
initiating this allegiance, of god, country, and family, now thinly veiled veneers;
trusts bygone, a new age sprung, brought forth by the froth of fomenting profiteers,
profound indeed the implication’s seed, the mass of US conceded to fascist engineers.
Loss does bleed indifference, no more is war progressed as an ending game,
gains make all the difference, whether or not humanity realizes the awful shames;
books of words work worries wonders, where secrecy imbibes each thought profane,
cooked are the truths of imperialistic ruse, the few coerce the masses, that’s insane!
Historically, when gain was king, the impoverished arose and took off their heads,
asking naught but parity’s bless, enough for each, and for return to Eden’s gifts;
however, truth is apparent and graciously so, only loss will return US from the dead,
soulless few who profit so, must be decimated, before healing our country’s rifts.
Currently, the status held, that wicked men and wayward wars yet steer the helm,
from my individual position, these truths stand tall as does the 'mouse that roared';
these few who seek to hide these truths, we all know the master of their realm,
bargain not remove this lot, words wrote long ago, remind US of the peril or reward.
June 2013
I saw you bump bump bumping along,
making little ripples on the lake,
and now I’ve dove into the water
to find you, but many stones are here.
Which one, recent skipping stone, are you?
It is I. I have found myself
submerged in this liquid cool of blue. It’s so strange.
And how, may I ask, does it feel
to be inside this new environment?
The ground down here is unusually soft and sticky.
I can only compare it to how my old home felt
when rain poured down on me and fellow pebbles
But rain is extremely rare here.
It seemed like we lay for eons on our heated beds
close by this lake that shimmered
so enticingly before us all our days.
I saw you picked up and skipped
across that enticing lake you speak of.
How did it feel to be uprooted from your home
and forced so abruptly away from
all you’d ever known?
I had rarely felt sensations of movement before.
I moved a bit when human feet happened to tread on me.
But to be picked up and hurled so far from my home
was the most exciting moment of my life!
Several times I hit upon the lake’s smooth surface
until I sank into its cool blue depth.
To my surprise, I found myself surrounded
by others of my kind!
Yes, many of you have been skipped or even tossed
with no finesse at all into this lake.
Let me ask you one more thing before I leave.
Would you like for me to rescue you
from your current situation?
Thank you kindly, but since arriving here,
I have been made to feel very much at home.
Creatures swimming above me are fascinating to see.
I’ve made new friends, and they tell me
the temperature down here is always cool.
In desert’s heat is sometimes got so insufferable.
I quite enjoy my new situation.
So you will stay here in this muck forever more . . .
Yes, I feel soothed here. Maybe it’s my paradise.
Not only do I accept my fate,
I embrace it fully.
With flashing eyes she did enthral
as to the beat of drums she danced
a wild flamingo with clacking castanets
her wide hooped skirt was all a-swirl
Golden earrings sparkling and flashing
heels looking impossibly high as she twirls
her eyes flashing enticing messages
as the men flock to her a mocking laugh
Siren of the senses as well she knows
she taunts and teases as she grabs hold
only to push her admirer head over heels
leaving him stunned and dazed in the dirt
In a puff of smoke she vanishes from view
long rolls of drums call to her to come back
the men look in vain for her return
a soft voice enticingly calls from the shadows
Singing of long journeys to far away exotic places
of caravan wheels swishing and of horses gavotting
of smokey camp fires bristling with full cauldrons
no clue to what lies within just enticing smells
She tells of lovers she has known in distant past
entreating the men, who try their luck to no avail
she sits brushing her long raven black hair of curls
and the sparks fly giving her an ethereal appearance
The fires die low and still she has not yet chosen
it seems she is waiting for someone not now here
flashes of lightening fork across the sullen skies
and the skies open in deluges of rain and thunder
As her admirers scatter seeking shelter she laughs
spinning round and round hair flying out scattering
droplets that glisten and sparkle in pale light
at last she crumbles done to the sodden ground
A mighty flash of lightening rends the sky in half
highlighting a jet black horse rearing up high
she runs forward laughing he is here, he has come
her gypsy king, he swings her up before him and turns
As the summer storm fades the last fork shows
the two lovers high-lit on the rolling hill
then gone, gone to their secret place of tryst
she leaves lingering memories in men's minds of what might have been
As I paddled the river Nile
I met a monstrous crocodile.
She smiled at me enticingly.
I smiled deferentially.
Through large white teeth to me she said,
"I want you in my river bed."
"We are not acquainted enough
for such intimate, tasteless stuff,"
I cried. A hippopotamus
opined, "Hey, we're amphibious.
We're inclined to romp through marshes;
come, let's crush some reedy rushes."
I paddled hard away. The Nile
now swirled by rapidly awhile
to the sea. There where its two brinks
grow apart it flows past a sphinx
who lies prone and thinks endlessly
deep thoughts about eternity.
For eons and eons his mind
thought thoughts about how to unbind
gravity from mentality
throughout universality,
that we might freely float;
no more need to paddle my boat.
Unfortunately, he has no gumption
to follow his least assumption;
but we do chat on fluently
of, to wit, stuff way beyond me
like hieroglyphic-ally writ
papyri. When he will not quit
I wander alone to a tomb
where lies Cleopatra, of whom
each schoolgirl knows; how her last gasp
came as she clasped to breast her asp.
Grasp that story's significance
twixt geometry class and dance.
Whilst she patronymic-ally
reigned, a most royal Ptolemy;
she told Marc, "My new last 'nym' now'll
be 'Anthony'." This, post her roll
out, quite nude, from Julius' rug.
His offer of sex met her mere shrug.
I stood amid a pyramid
or three and pondered where they hid,
these pharaohs, all their treasury.
Was power or mere pleasury
their true architectural plan?
To ever tell, no pharaoh can.
These writs I write as my boat drifts
midst original hieroglyphs
through the Mediterranean.
I don't need a librarian
to see, no sociology
compares to Egyptology.
In vivacious luminous
landscape of luring longing,
desire sculpts dream,
spreads spectrum of ardor
in sapphire sky,
fervor floats on cloud,
shaping sensual crave,
charismatic.
Spring-soaked beguiled brush
paints passionately
murals of rapture
on convivial canvas,
of my heart
ebullient,
portraying the panorama
of lilting life,
adroitly.
In cracked cinnamon
ground fallow,
dry as dune,
parched to the core
in depth of seared soul,
my deserted essence
desiccated,
filled with forsaken sand,
spilled discarded
from abandoned hourglass
demolished,
pervades to abhor
the faded dreams
of fallen foliage
fragile,
its rustle echoes
in twilight terrain,
as rhythm of mirage
migrates enticingly with
hymn of halcyon hope,
momentary.
Weary eyes weep
torrent of tears within,
fill oasis of pathos,
concealed pining cauldron
overflows unrestrained
ephemeral streams,
designs melancholic mosaic,
cataracts to nowhere,
disappears in vale of anguish,
etching motif of dream,
deluding.
Forlorn life’s
remnant distillate
remains designed
with the contours
of eroded banks
of marooned mind,
dwindling.
Cascading cadence
of captivating yearning
composes in reverie
symphony of fervent breeze
surreal,
drifting with dust of sanguinity
buoyant,
from yonder plateau
of primal impulse
to float paper boats
of craving fantasy,
rolling on ripples
of melodic love
of my heart’s lilac lagoon
boundless,
pulsating in endless ecstasy
with concerto of euphoria,
esoteric.