Poem Gallery

Deceptive Embrace: Unmasking Love Bombing

23/7/20

In a realm of deceit, where shadows dance, 
There lies a tactic, a cruel romance.
Love bombing, it's called, a manipulative art,
A toxic allure, a deceitful sweetheart.

With honeyed words and gestures grand, 
They sweep you up in their cunning plan.
Like a whirlwind of affection, they draw you near, 
But beware, my friend, for danger lurks here.

They shower you with praise, a captivating spell,
Their affection overwhelms, like a sweet-scented swell.
They whisper promises, make you feel adored, 
But beneath the surface, a trap is carefully stored.

Love bombing, a facade, a twisted embrace, 
Designed to bind you in a tight, suffocating space.
Their affections, like petals, wilt and fade, 
Leaving you broken, vulnerable, betrayed.

Their love is a weapon, a manipulative game, 
To control your thoughts, your actions, your name.
They prey on your vulnerabilities, exploit your desire,
Leaving you lost, consumed by the fire.

But listen, dear heart, do not be swayed,
For love should be gentle, not a game to be played.
Recognize the signs, the false promises they bring, 
And break free from the chains of their insidious string

Hold onto your worth, your strength, and your voice, 
Don't let their love bombing drown out your choice.
In the face of their tactics, stand tall and strong, 
For true love is patient, it would never steer you wrong.

So, shield your heart, be cautious, be wise,
Don't let love bombing cloud your clear skies.
Find love that's authentic, built on trust and respect, 
And let manipulative tactics be forever in retrospect.
Kizzie, Ersell Leave a comment

Isopraxism

23/7/16

 

In a realm where knowledge weaves its threads, 
Instructor Lumen to Vunar Lexos gently treads,
Teaching the art of manipulation's finesse,
A subtle dance where truth may acquiesce.

A whisper shared, a secret to unveil,
To make others divulge, their words prevail,
With isopraxism's cunning guise,
Inquirer's guise, truth shall arise.

"If you want to know secrets concealed,
Listen closely, let your senses yield,
Repeat their words with inquisitive grace,
Inquire anew, in this art embrace."

For in the echo of a sentence rephrased, 
Like a question's allure, subtly raised,
The listener unknowingly reveals,
Information concealed, like secrets unsealed.

Through linguistic dance, minds intertwine,
As Lumen's wisdom unravels the design, 
Isopraxism, the unspoken key,
Unveils the truth, sets the deceiver free.

So let us learn, in this intriguing sphere, 
To manipulate gently, without undue fear, 
For knowledge and power entwined in art, 
Can shape a destiny, in every heart.
Kizzie, Ersell Leave a comment

The Wicked Weave: A Coven’s Cunning

23/7/8
In shadows' cloak, where secrets dwell,
Whispers weave their intricate spell.
A guiding hand with cunning art, 
To bend the will, to play its part.
Behold the art of Odessa Fade, 
A mastermind in masquerade,
She wields her power, sly and keen, 
With choices twain, a wicked scheme.

"If you desire control," she said,
"Two choices, stark, shall lie ahead.
One, a path that's filled with fear, 
The other, draped in allure, so clear."

The first, a specter, daunting, grim,
A choice that's fraught with terror's whim.
A haunting choice, where shadows loom,
A path that leads to certain doom.

The second choice, a sweet charade,
A tempting offer, cunningly made.
A silver platter, seemingly blessed,
The path of comfort, the very best.

For many souls, enticed and swayed,
By options deftly Odessa laid,
They choose the mask of lesser pain,
To quell their doubts, their thoughts restrain.

In haste, they rush, their minds confined,
Seeking solace, the easy find.
A feeble shield, their doubts to quell, 
Under Odessa's beguiling spell.

So heed this caution, gentle heart,
When faced with choices, set apart,
Beware the charms, the false embrace, 
And see beyond her treacherous face.

For in the realms where freedom gleams, 
We must unveil these wicked schemes.
To think, to ponder, to break the mold, 
And forge our paths, both brave and bold.















			

	
					

				Kizzie, Ersell								Leave a comment
							

	
		
	



			
				


	

		
Art vs Expectations

	

	

		
	

		

		
In a world where dreams were cast aside,
My artistic fire began to hide.
The people around me, their doubts grew strong,
"Study harder, child, don't you want to belong?"

Ambitions suppressed, I followed their lead,
Achieving straight A's, fulfilling their creed.
But empty was my heart, devoid of delight, 
For I craved the canvas, the colors so bright.

High school arrived, my facade crumbled fast,
Grades slipped away, like grains in an hourglass.
Yet within the chaos, a spark reappeared, 
1 picked up my pencil, my passion revered.

Years lost, creativity held in chains, 
But I embraced art, despite the pains.
And amidst the struggle, a glimmer of hope, 
For my mother's support, like a lifeline, she'd rope.

Yet weary I grew, tired of pretense,
Of family's false pride, their shallow defense.
Demanding my work, their voices would persist, 
But their words felt hollow, a mocking twist.

So now I break free, from their expectations,
Seeking my path, defying frustrations.
For art is my essence, my soul's sweet release,
Not measured by praise or societal peace.

I'll paint with resilience, my spirit aflame,
With strokes of passion, I'II etch my own name.
No longer bound by their doubtful embrace,
I'll forge my own destiny, in colors I trace.

For true fulfillment lies in following my heart,
In art's vast canvas, I'll find my true art.
No more seeking validation or lies to appease,
I’ll paint my own masterpiece, my soul's masterpiece.

			

	
					

				Kizzie, Ersell								Leave a comment
							

	
		
	



			
				


	

		
Warriors Echo

	

	

		
	

		

		
23/7/4


Version 1


In the depths of battle's fiery embrace,
A voice awakens, relentless in peace.
Whispering secrets, urging me to stand,
To wield my weapon with unwavering hand.

Inside my soul, it echoes with might,
A call to arms, dispelling all fright.
No matter the damage, my body may bear,
I press forward, fueled by an eternal flare.

The voice resounds, a steadfast guide,
Through the darkest hours, it won't subside.
Leaking blood, a small cost to endure,
For victory's taste, so sweet and pure.

Even when my functions begin to wane,
The voice declares I shall rise again,
A warrior's spirit, undying and strong,
To fulfill my purpose, where I belong.

For in this symphony of chaos and strife,
I march ahead, embracing this life.
The voice, my anthem, forever rings true,
Inspiring valor, forging me anew.

So heed this tale of the voice within,
Embrace its fervor, let the battle begin.
For warriors arise, unyielding, and brave,
Till the final victory, their souls shall engrave.

Version 2

In the depths of battle's hellish blaze,
A voice emerges, harsh and bleak,
Whispering curses, compelling me to stay,
To brandish my weapon with despairing streak.


Within my soul, it howls with dread,
A call to arms, sowing seeds of dread.
No matter the torment, my body may face,
I trudge onward, burdened by relentless pace.

The voice resounds, an unwavering guide,
Through the blackest hours, refusing to hide.
Spilling blood, a sacrifice I endure,
For victory's semblance, obscured and impure.

Even as my essence begins to decay,
The voice insists I shall rise, decayed and frayed,
A warrior's ghost, unyielding and grim,
To fulfill my purpose, where life grows dim.

For in this discordant symphony of pain,
I march ahead, embracing my own disdain.
The voice, my requiem, ceaselessly screams,
Injecting valor, tearing at my seams.

So heed this chronicle of the voice inside,
Embrace its torment, let the battle collide.
For warriors emerge, unyielding, yet drenched,
Till the final slaughter, their souls eternally quenched.




			

	
					

				Kizzie, Ersell								Leave a comment
							

	
		
	



			
				


	

		
Monstrous Beast, Still Loved

	

	

		
	

		

		
23/6/26


In the Fairy Forest, a tale unfurled, Where a 
tower stood, worn, yet tall.
A knight adorned in silver, fearsome knight, 
And a woman, clad in white, stood by his 
side,
With opal necklace gleaming bright, and 
hair of white.

"What if my real face was hideous?" he 
asked, With a voice tinged with doubt, his 
heart entwined.
"Fear not," she replied, with gentle grace,
"For your visage matters not in love's 
embrace."

"Would it still be fine, if a monstrous beast I 
be?" His words echoed, carried by the 
whispering breeze.
A pause ensued, but her answer was clear,
"Yeah," she said, her voice tender and 
sincere.

"So, I'd still want to see it, in all its form,
For the essence of your being holds love's 
charm.
A face matters not, when souls intertwine,
As long as it's you, my love, your heart 
divine."

In the Fairy Forest, a love bloomed strong.
Amidst silver armor and a hood, dark and dread, 
With a woman dressed in white, an 
opal's glow, And a knight, finding solace in 
love's embrace,
Together, they found beauty in the depths of 
grace.

			

	
					

				Kizzie, Ersell								Leave a comment
							

	
		
	



			
				


	

		
Charm’s Manipulative Dance

	

	

		
	

		

		
23/6/23


In golden words she weaves her tale, 
A charming guise, a captivating veil.
"I'm pretty and smart," her lips declare,
While her eyes gleam with a knowing stare.

With cunning grace, she dances the game,
A master of manipulation, her aims untamed.
Her smile, a weapon, disarms with ease,
As she weaves her web of sweet deceit.

But behind that smile, a darkness resides, 
A heart detached, where empathy hides.
Her words, like whispers, they beguile,
Yet truth eludes her calculating guile.

Beneath the surface, a dismissive air,
She dances with power, devoid of care.
Her laughter, a mask, conceals her intent,
Leaving others to wonder where loyalty went.


For those who trust, her presence divine,
Yet beware the allure of her beguiling design.
Her charm, a façade, a fleeting ruse,
Leaving hearts shattered, and souls confused.

Oh, pretty and smart, she claims to be,
But her actions speak louder, for all to see.
A puppeteer of emotions, she plays her part,
Leaving behind a trail of broken hearts.

So be wary, dear souls, of her captivating spell,
For beneath her beauty lies a tale to tell.
In her realm of manipulation, she may reign, 
But true connection, she can never attain.

			

	
					

				Kizzie, Ersell								Leave a comment
							

	
		
	



			
				


	

		
Delusions

	

	

		
	

		

		
A kid in his room sitting down in front of his mirror alone in his room tower placed in a deep forest.  No contact from another human but a whisper from an otherworldly being whispers in his ear “You don’t feel yourself. Is it because you’re pretending to be someone else?”. The creature has always been there but the kid chose to ignore it until today when he finally broke.


 


In a room, a child sits alone,

Before the mirror, a reflection unknown.

A tower in the depths of a forest so deep,

Isolation blankets, their secrets to keep.


No human contact, a soul disconnected,

Yet a whisper arrives, from realms undetected.

An otherworldly being, always by their side,

Now beckoning, no longer denied.


“You don’t feel yourself,” the whisper cries,

“Is it because you wear a mask of lies?”

For too long, the child ignored this presence,

But today, their facade crumbles in essence.


A creature unseen, always watching with care,

Now embraced by the child’s desperate despair.

The walls built tall, now come crashing down,

As authenticity rises from a hidden crown.


The child’s tears, like rivers, start to flow,

Revealing emotions long kept in shadow.

No longer pretending, the truth takes its hold,

A journey within, a story yet untold.

			

	
					

				Kizzie, Ersell								Leave a comment
							

	
		
	



			
				


	

		
Belief in a Worthy Blessing

	

	

		
	

		

		
I hope beautiful things happen to you, and when they do, I hope you can believe that you are worthy of every single one of them.


In the realm of verse, let's weave a tale,
Of hopes and dreams that gently sail.
Where beautiful things come to find,
A place to dwell within the mind.

Oh, gracious soul, may your heart be bright,
As stars that twinkle in the night.
May destiny's hand gently unfold,
In stories yet untold, but soon to be told.

When fortune's breeze whispers your name,
And blessings in your life find their calm,
Believe, dear one, that you're worthy, true,
Of every joy that comes to you.

Like petals adorning a bloom so rare,
Embrace each moment, for it's yours to 
share.
Let doubt's shadow fade into the past,
For you my friend, have found your vast.

A tepestry woven with love and grace,
Painted ith hues of dreams embraced.
Embrace these blessings, let them unfurl,
As life's symphony dances and swirls.

And in the depths of yuor being, know,
You're desrving of all the seeds you sow.
For beauty resides within your core,
An eternal flame, forevermore.

So, when those beautiful things come your
way,
Breathe deeply, my dear, and let them stay.
Embrace the truth that you are deserving,
Of every blessing, ever deserving.

May your path be adorned with treasures
rare,
And may your heart forever bear,
The knowledge that you are worthy, true,
Of every dream that comes to you.


 

			

	
					

				Kizzie, Ersell								Leave a comment
							

	
		
	



			
				


	

		
Immortal Warden

	

	

		
	

		

		
6/11/23


Prompt: The Immortal Warden


Oh, my misguided friend, make no mistake. This is no mere episode of corruption of my eternal conviction. I shall find no solace until I find my enemies writhing in agonizing pain beneath the pressure of my blade, begging for mercy amongst the bodies of their fallen brothers, regretting and ruining the day in which they crossed me. Which I shall deny them such mercy as death.


 


In shadows deep, where darkness dwells,
A figure stern, the immortal Warden, tells
Of battles fought with fiery might,
And enemies crushed in eternal night.

Oh, my misguided friend, he cries,
This corruption breeds no compromise.
With unwavering conviction, he stands tall,
Vowing vengeance, to make them fall.

No solace sought, no respite found,
Until his foes lie broken on the ground.
Beneath his blade, in pain they writhe,
their final Breaths, the price of their strive.

Begging for mercy, they'll tremble, they'll
plead,
Yet his heart of steel will pay no heed.
Amidst the fallen, their brothers lost,
Regret will consume them, a bitter cost.

For they dared to cross his righteous path,
Invoking the wrath pf this immortal's wrath.
No mercy granted, no release from life,
They'll taste the bitter edge of his strife.

Oh. Immortal Warden, relentless and true,
Your vengeance burns with a crimson hue.
Through battles waged, your legend's born,
A symphony of anguish, your enemies torn.

In the annals of time, your name shall be 
sung,
A mythic figure, with songs forever young.
For you are the guardian, unyielding,
unchained,
Forever marked, by the vengeance you've
attained.



			

	
					

				Kizzie, Ersell								Leave a comment