atop perched shadows,
S’lene strikes the hearts of pale plumes –
a murder of crows
Could this be the dark side of the moon, or has the white flame just charred sadness with her warmth; I’d love to hear your thoughts and interpretations.
By the way, feel free to read the first of the series, Moonglow if fascinated with wordplay and nature.
Do have a lovely start to your week and till next time, Ciao.
Cheemnonso
As the new year new me bells chimed,
the big bongs and her swan songs rhymed,
with her eyes piercing through the blues of the cloud,
as the memories in her theatrical dome trilled aloud.
Act twenty, scene twenty-four, she reminisced,
on all the good chapters she really missed,
wondering how body and soul still stayed alive,
even when sadness to mirth seemed twenty-to-five.
“Old things are passed away”, she said,
“To a better and brighter new year”, she pled,
one where she would be lushly loved by thy neighbour,
one where she would savour the fresh fruits of her labour.
Alas, she knew not all will be served on a silver platter,
for some yearnings of man tiptoe on the sky’s silver lining,
so she shoots at the stars with silver bullets and a pelter,
hoping it will rain silver spoons of God’s designing.
As we celebrate witnessing the third millennium’s silver jubilee, it is normal for us to have lofty ambitions and plans for how the year-long anniversary should go; however, as previous years may have proved, just making resolutions without a guided attitude, dedication, and diligence may not suffice.
As such, I do wish you and yours a fabulous new year with good health and the strength to follow through with set goals and also to overcome obstacles in the way of your kind heart desires. Do have splendid days ahead, and till next time, ciao:)
Cheemnonso
It’s that time of the year again when we have to celebrate the cartoonists who have put indelible smiles on our faces through their astonishing works.
This time, I looked no further than 2010, when both Despicable Me and Tangled were debuted on the big screens by Illumination Entertainment/Universal Pictures and Disney Studios respectively.
Viewers got so engrossed with the cute, slapstick humour of the minions (not forgetting their silly language) and also the enchanting and ever-flowing serpentine hair of Rapunzel; however, did you know the cartoonists/animators behind them?
Based on the original folktales of Brothers Grimm, Rapunzel’s initial sketches were designed by the reputable Disney animator, Glen Keane. Some of his other notable works include Ariel, Beast and Aladdin from Disney’s Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast and Aladdin respectively. Inspired by his Rapunzel creation, I had to portray a captured Rapunzel with coloured pencils, and I enjoyed absolutely every minute of it.
Furthermore, the mastermind behind the adorable Minions is none other than Eric Guillon, who has also served as a character designer on both The Secret Life of Pets and Sing. My favourite character from The Minions is Stuart, particularly because of his whimsical acts of mischief and adventurousness, hence, my depiction of him.
Phew! I can’t thank these cartoonists/animators enough for the joy their works have put on our faces, and also for the fact that I enjoyed flexing my coloured pencils once again, thanks to the inspiration garnered from the recognition of National Cartoonist’s Day.
In the meantime, do make sure you start your great week off by immersing yourself in your favourite comic strip or childhood cartoons, as we celebrate Cartoonists’ Day. Also, feel free to check out part one in my Day of the Cartoonist series and till next time, Ciao!
Cheemnonso
How do you perceive love? Is she like the seasonal relative that visits only during Valentine’s, Easter, Christmas and other holidays, then vanishes with the wind when the jolly days are over? Does her auburn aura, ever so bright and stunning, blind your judgement of that which is right and wrong? Do you feel like the utterance of Her Majesty’s name to thy ears seeps through the mouth and not from the heart? Sigh!
Well, whilst you try to answer these questions introspectively, here’s L’Antoinette Stines’ reply when quizzed on her perception of love, as sampled in The Carters’ BLACK EFFECT intro.
“Hmm, well, there’s love of children,
Love of self,
Love of God,
Love of a partner,
and all of them have a different shape;
but all of them are the same in the end.
It’s about sensitivity, it’s about passion,
It’s about unconditional giving of self to another person;
And there’s love of humanity,
that’s the love that is right now needed most,
Love of humanity;
but in everything, in all of that love, there is a soul;
It’s like when you take some eggs and break them,
and you take the shells and mix them up,
trying to find the ones that match;
when you find the perfect match
that compatibility results in passion.
results in unconditional giving of self”
Now, that truly packs a lot, I must say; and even though Love has the patience, kindness and endurance to overcome those nagging questions, L’Antoinette makes us remember that it’s more of the unconditional giving of self, whilst prioritizing humankind, thus, suggesting our questions should be confined within the boundaries of the love we give rather than that which we receive.
Alas, this begs another question, at least from my perspective: In a world where certain varying conditions are essential for existence by default, is it possible to give self to another unconditionally?
Anyway, these spurred me to have this drawing; no more than the inscription of love on the muse’s fingers, lol, and I will say I hugely enjoyed it, particularly as this is my first drawing in a while. I also look forward to creating more, as I have just recently got a new pencil and chalk pastel set that I would love to try out in the coming days; but in the meantime, do feel free to share your views on this piece.
Do stay blessed and have a good week ahead. Ciao!
Cheemnonso
living through the pane,
bodies snuggled in the blinds,
whilst hearts drew curtains.
Though it may be the saddest word ever said, goodbyes still have their due moments.
Feel free to peek through my Goodbye window, to see the first of its series, and do make sure you have a hearty week ahead.
Cheemnonso
It’s Halloween season again, and it’s time to unleash the spookiest of costumes for tricking and treating. This time, however, I resorted to commemorating Halloween using graphite pencils and poetry. Weird?
The portrait study this time is a screaming Simon Pegg found on Pinterest.
Graphite pencils were chosen this time as it’s much easier to work with one color (greyscale) compared to the abundance of hues in colored pencils. Moreover, working with graphite pencils gives more freedom to explore one’s range of drawing techniques without fear of making mistakes. This is particularly useful when those learned and perfected techniques are subsequently implemented in color pencil drawing.
Enjoyed creating this drawing (particularly the wrinkles); so much that I was inspired to write a free verse that centers on fear. Hope you like it.
I tremble not at the sight of scornful scorpions and creeping creatures,
nor do I quiver in the face of vast chasms spewing fire and brimstone;
I fear not the traversal of the deathly Elm street,
riddled with ghostly apparitions and prancing monsters,
for in the ambiance of neon-lit jack o’ lanterns,
the incandescence of His word further belights my path;
Alas,
I’m scared I’d find solace in the dark,
for the light keeps revealing my tears to sneering seagulls;
I dread that at Love’s feet layeth humanity’s jigsaw puzzle,
but pride keeps bloating my piece,
so much, I no longer fit;
I’m afraid that for my good deeds
Mother Nature bestows a priceless invisible garment,
but never gets to see its beguiling beauty on me;
I’m petrified that the world has lost all sense of colour,
and through her monochromatic lens, I’d be deemed shady.
I’m frightened my trust for humankind has eloped with the wind,
for her cold shoulder has turned my heart to ice,
and in her spiky grasps, it shatters to bits;
I’m affrighted life may morph into the desiccated woods
with us, each tree,
and my voice, endlessly drowning in its psithurism;
But most of all,
I’m scared I show no fear,
for fear is a rampaging hound preying on feeble minds,
and strong, I must appear.
🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃
So, what are you most scared of? Feel free to share your thoughts.
Happy Halloween by the way, with hopes November brings good tidings. Do stay blessed.
Cheemnonso
A short, playful and somewhat true story.
…as the jagged talons of religious conflict ripped through earth’s coat of many colors, she struggled for what to believe in, thus condemning her ways to the eerie bliss of karma and the beguiling warmth of morality. Alas, she decided to pen an open letter to the world, pronouncing her new-found faith.
As the nothingness of the blank pages and her steel blue eyes embarked on a cold staring contest, imaginary quills swiveling between thoughts began etching words on her mindscape saying:
By the virtue of karma,
we get what we give,
thus,
when the sun sets on the once soaring butterfly,
as the gale’s burden rests upon her fragile wings
thence, plummeting her to the abyss,
she has to give up,
just so she gets up;
so, tell me
on what bed does your belief lay?
Karma?
or the poetry dressed in pun’s prowess?
Have a lovely and playful week ahead.
Cheemnonso
It has been two years and some months since I launched this blog, and I vividly remember my first blogpost which was a limerick of some sort that goes like this:
consumed by pride, envy and scorn,
the feeble veil of my heart is torn,
one which no golden needle and silver thread can mend,
one which only the agape love from persons can tend,
salving all wounds from dusk till dawn.
Love (Adapted)
The poem very much typified my emotional state at the time and how I held all kinds of feelings bottled up, searching for meaning and answers in our nature. However, interest from a few persons piqued gradually and my world began to morph artistically. With the gradual growth of the blog, I have been able to find my channel of catharsis with some areas botched in shades of gray, and others smeared in resplendent hues. As such, many thanks to you all who have literally given me a thousand reasons to be grateful for the interest, love and support rendered towards the achievement of this milestone.
As always, it will remain a tremendous pleasure to keep putting smiles on your faces through my works as you have done so effortlessly on mine. Cheers to our next artistic adventure, and a thousand hugs and kisses to each and every one of you. Happy blogging.
Cheemnonso
En route to our dreams,
we procure one-way tickets
through neon nightmares.
The question, however, becomes: “How much are you willing to pay for this trying travel?”
Cheemnonso™
Haunted by the past,
and the eerie sands of time,
hopes of days unborn,
blow over in mere mindscapes—
Life’s desolate trick or treat.
Happy Halloween🎃.
.
Cheemnonso™
Summer’s scorching reign was over, and the world finally became a stage for the succeeding princess. High hopes were held of her and the events of her coronation as documented in a lost journal reads;
As the sun crowned autumn,
with a fitting tiara bathed in gold,
whistling winds blew their bagpipes,
tree twigs swayed softly in the melodious aura,
and lush leaves fell fatuously
in deference to her majesty;
Alas, not all subjects agreed to bend the knee,
for they feared the land’s drought may never cease,
and how did the new queen respond?
Well, she sicced her soldiers on them.
Cheemnonso™
when days turn sombre,
as the night dims the sun’s smile,
the moon doles out milk.
.
Do stay positive in the midst of adversity, and as always, have a lovely day.
.
Cheemnonso™
…through the keyhole of her confines, she sees how poor the world has become; Thence, she mutters;
can one ever really be free,
when all that lingers in captivity’s dust,
is the thin veiled irony,
wheezing, “Freedom cometh at a cost”?
.
Cheemnonso™
I’ve seen the colour of music;
yellow like a budding sunflower,
with blotted petals clothed in tumeric;
.
I’ve treaded her country, so idyllic;
where love and lust tastes sweet and sour,
and the dreams bequeathed inspire moments of magic;
.
I’ve heard her melody, so angelic;
easing my nightmares in the darkest hour
as the crickets chirp a solemn panegyric;
.
and when I feared my world grew paralytic,
with pain urging me to cower,
she became a soothing analgesic;
.
Alas, the tale she tells can sometimes seem cryptic,
as her throbbing pulses conceal its true power,
and her wordings can sometimes be toxic,
like a fierce fanged hound geared to devour;
still, I’ll forever be in awe of her alluring mystique,
for she has given me a thousand reasons to stay poetic.
.
Cheemnonso™
…bleeding on knife-edge whilst waiting on the dawn of life’s beauty, a voice whispered within…
as life mirrors art,
days may seem sketchy and gray,
till you smear crayons.
.
Cheemnonso™
tombed in pillory,
our hopes seemed evanescent,
till He awakened.
Also, feel free to read this Easter free verse as you enjoy the wonderful season in the comfort of your homes.
Do stay safe and stay blessed.
.
Cheemnonso™
Sunday Bristol Sketchbook – Page 1
In realism, particularly pencil shading, I’ve come to realize that a careful choice of materials really play a crucial role in finished artworks. Back when I started drawing, I solely used printing papers and HB pencils, which definitely aren’t the worst media any budding artist could begin with. Truth is, the sketches seemed appealing at the time, until questions on depth, contrast and longevity arose. As first steps to tackling these questions, I purchased a STÆDTLER graphite pencil set to deal with the issue of tones and depth, hence achieving more realism; and an acid-free Strathmore Sketchbook to make the drawings last longer on paper without smudging or fading away. This actually made the drawings improve a bit, but it just didn’t feel right to stop exploring other art materials.
After watching a couple online drawing tutorials, I came to know about this Bristol vellum surface sketchbook and how finished drawings looked breathtaking on them, so, I decided to get one for myself. While making this baby drawing on the recently acquired sketchbook, I felt jealous of the camaraderie between the tip of the graphite pencil and the surface of the paper. Each stroke of the pencil glided effortlessly on the paper like a graceful geisha skiing on winter ice. I was also happy with how the paper could capture the contrast the pencils were willing to offer. The drawing ultimately proved to be one enjoyable art piece for me, and I can’t wait to see how other dry media including charcoal and coloured pencils would fare on this sketchbook. Fingers crossed.
Cheemnonso™
Sunday Strathmore Sketchbook – Page 8
My recent reference for portrait sketching is a lady who has proved that no one is ever too young to attain the greatest heights of success, thus, making her a source of inspiration to teenagers all over the world.
For the upcoming 62nd Grammy Awards ceremony slated for the 26th of January, 2020, she has bagged an impressive haul of six nominations, including the big four categories (Album, Record, Song and Best New Artist of the year), making her the youngest person in history to do so in the same year. She may as well be the youngest to win them all at once, who knows??
She, for me, has been the best prodigy to break out in the music industry since Lorde, not just for reanimating the sleeping ears of goth pop fans around the world, but for the impact she imparts with her music.
So, without much fuss, here’s my somewhat botchy sketch of the 21st century born, Billie Eilish.
.
Cheemnonso™
With tongues sunken deep,
the flowers sang serenades
of her loved ones gone.
.
Cheemnonso™
Blank pages flipping,
quaint quills dancing in the wind,
while ink drowns in mirth
as a new chapter dawns forth—
so, what story will you write?
A very glorious and wonderful New year to you.
.
Cheemnonso™
Sunday Strathmore Sketchbook – Page 6
Here’s a sketch of this cute baby I came across while scrolling through Pinterest just the other day.
Immediately I saw her, I began to imagine the quirky world babies immerse themselves in. A world where tantrums aren’t ignored but cared for. A world where one could wear a smile for days and not think much about its laundry. A world where everyone’s so eager to hear the first words of your story. A world where there’s no deriding of one’s incessant mistakes but always a helping hand. Simply put, a world without worries; at least I think.
What most will give to be in this version of the world every moment.
.
Cheemnonso™
Sunday Strathmore Sketchbook – Page 5
Pennywise is back!! The ever eerie clown from the movie IT, adapted from Stephen King’s novel of the same title, just released its Chapter Two (Its third cinema adaptation) some days back and it promises to be one to send shivers down enthused audiences’ spines.
Before its 2017 release (IT: Chapter one), I had seen a lot of horror movies, so much that the horror genre of movies actually became my favorite due to its unwavering thrills and sometimes, gore, but I hadn’t quite seen one which centered on a terrifying clown preying on the fears of little children. I very well enjoyed the movie, so well that I became enamored with clowns (Coulrophobes will find this strange) and made my very first attempt at Pennywise sketching.
The role Pennywise plays in IT can also be related to pencil artistry. Pennywise can be seen as that aura of darkness smeared in graphite, while the little children can be viewed as budding artists. As budding artists, we’re scared of delving darker in any of our drawings with the thought that we may end up ruining our art piece, so, we instead, use light shades on our sketches, just to be on a safer side.
The use of dark shades and shadows with a mixture of good highlighting and mid-tones, tend to give form and depth to drawings, hence, making them pop out of our canvasses. This is one fear I’m still particularly struggling to overcome in pencil realism, but we all know what happens to Pennywise at the end of the story.
So, without further ado, here’s my recent attempt of the ominous clown, Pennywise. You’ll float too🎈.
Cheemnonso™
Dear humanity,
I write this to ask you,
How did we drift so askew,
to the point where
the vain is inanely adored,
and the sane is insanely abhorred?
Why do the colours that make rainbows smile
and give the auroras her alluring style,
no longer ignite beauty sparks on faces,
but smear the tracks of individual races?
Why do we worship the elitists
at their altar of greed,
but ignore the sinister cysts,
sprouting on those in need?
Why do we still play the game called fame,
whilst our high-scores keep putting us to shame?
When did everyone suddenly become so fickle,
leaving us to trust only the Reaper’s thrusting sickle?
If you’re reading this, I need some answers,
I really do,
because the world slowly sinks into hate’s murky gutter,
and I need to know how to keep my head above water.
Regards,
Cheemnonso™
Bottom-dog bumpkins,
breaking breathtaking barriers,
bewilders best brains.
.
Cheemnonso™
Sunday Strathmore Sketchbook – Page 4
Over the course of last fourteen months , I’ve had three drawings of my baby sister, who, by the way, happens to celebrate her birthday today. Woo hoo!
With her beguiling smile, charm and a little bit of petulance, she was able to lure me into this recent drawing of her, which I very much enjoyed to say the least. She has also been one of my dynamic references who I can actually attribute her real time growth to my artistic growth, so, I can’t thank her enough.
After attempts one and two, I’m quite tempted to say that “the third time’s the charm”, but looking back at it, I can only be amazed at the progress from each of them, hoping for more development in the coming years.
.
Cheemnonso™
On Earth’s green carpet,
the gallant gull struts her stuff—
nature’s top model.
.
Cheemnonso™
Through her needle eyes,
the swirling seam of the sea
stitches her ripped heart.
.
Cheemnonso™
Tasty red herrings,
on salvers of food for thought—
our daily diet.
.
Cheemnonso™
Page 5 of my sketchbook.
Over the years,some stone cold female assassins have graced our TV screens including Mystique, Nikita, Talia Al’ Ghul, Elektra, Jane Smith and even Arya Stark, but none caught my eyes the way Oksana Astankova does. Her mecuriality, charisma, femininity and scathing sense of humor makes psychopathy seem charming and fun. She is truly one enigmatic and exuberant serial killer portrayed by Jodie Comer brilliantly.
So, here’s my sketch of Villanelle from the amazing TV series, Killing Eve.
.
Cheemnonso™
O dear sullen clouds,
Heaven’s own cotton candy,
don’t you dare cry now.
.
Cheemnonso™
Like sixes of one,
and two threes of another,
we seemed so alike,
but as same magnet poles do
we keep on drifting apart.
.
Cheemnonso™
Laying in the wild,
plunged in a sea of nightmares,
the wind’s gentle strokes,
strum her furry coated strings,
and its music soothes her dreams.
.
Cheemnonso™
Like the phoenix from the ashes,
He rose;
Like the bouquet in my stashes,
He’s rose;
Our troubles and afflictions,
He knows;
Our burden and transgressions,
He tows.
.
Cheemnonso™
The tender tendril,
writhes and dances o’er her love;
a painful allure.
.
Cheemnonso™
The stars, I offered,
along with lustering moonstones,
yet, you needed space.
.
Cheemnonso™
with the quills of art,
bathed in the fountains of glory,
she etches words on every heart,
with each telling a story.
.
Happy World Poetry Day
.
Cheemnonso™
Would you help me up,
when crows sing the sun to sleep,
and my demons wake?
.
Cheemnonso™
Buoyant balloons blown,
bask in their fullness of air,
’til they burst to bits.
.
Cheemnonso™
Sitting in the back pew,
within walls shrouded in lew,
I beheld this wonderful creature,
with a smile belighting all of nature;
Her skin knitted in fine threads of gold,
unspooling from looms in Midas’ hold,
and her tress flowing like the river Rhine,
in ways so slithery, so serpentine;
Alas, my heart’s chalice yearned a fill,
but I feared it may drown in its overspill,
so, there I sat ogling away,
hoping to have this dream another day.
.
Cheemnonso™
she basks in dream glows,
when my world lusters so bright,
mimicking all steps,
but when my sunset draws nigh,
she elopes with the obscure.
.
Cheemnonso™
and she said to me…
show me your dream plans,
heave me your broken pieces,
and I’ll build you up.
.
Cheemnonso™
Blessed be the gusts,
for dead trees shall dance unclothed,
to thy forceful songs.
.
Cheemnonso™
On ice cold mornings,
bell clanks stay sunken in frost,
while sloth drowns the bed.
.
Cheemnonso™
It’s that time again,
when he travels round the sun,
with hopes not to burn.
.
Cheemnonso™
Crisp orange sunset,
plunging into still waters,
makes our goblets smile.
.
Cheemnonso™
On barren orchards,
riddled with fey coated seeds,
the heavens weepeth,
yearning a sprout from their tombs,
with olive branches to realms.
.
Cheemnonso™
I looked up to you
for a light unto my path,
but your light shone so bright
that I turned my back on you,
now, all I’ve become
is a silhouette,
lost in your midst.
Cheemnonso™
O solemn silent nights, we crave thee,
graced with spirits; not one, two, but three,
come tuck angst in to sleep,
and make heavy hearts leap,
for your aura brings nothing but glee.
.
Cheemnonso™
The golems of ire,
spits fire into men’s faint hearts,
coursing madness through.
.
Cheemnonso™
Desire of the flesh,
raises tombs where Pharaohs lay,
sowing seeds of fey.
.
Cheemnonso™
The earthy goddess,
enslaves men to her vile vines,
insatiating all.
.
Cheemnonso™
We wandered astray,
further into the wastelands,
where hearts evanesce,
and listless love lay athirst,
yearning for our drops of tears.
.
Cheemnonso™
stray strands of Luna,
swirling in the milky way,
tastes like honeymoon.
.
Cheemnonso™
The fierce fangs of time,
gnaws deeply on my feeble flesh;
soon, I mummify.
.
Cheemnonso™
Locked in mirth’s insides,
Ecstasy holds her hostage;
Her heart’s arrested.
.
Cheemnonso™
Autumn auroras,
awe-gusts and august auras,
apays all ages.
.
Cheemnonso
Walking on water,
Spirit and soul stays afloat,
Burdened body drowns.
.
Cheemnonso™
Lost in the Ether,
the withering flower blossoms,
A mundane mystery.
.
Cheemnonso ✍️
O marvelous dance,
pure poetry in motion,
how I bask in you.
.
Cheemnonso
Sweet sonorous songs,
Engulfed in good tidings,
Postured in the walls of our hearts;
This, I wish us these
Ember days,
Mustering magnificent memories,
Burning all scarlet scars
Etched in our lives,
Radiating joy forth.
.
Cheemnonso™
Susurrant sage sounds,
sleekly slays savoured savages,
stirring startling stares.
.
Cheemnonso
The thin veil called life,
Fragile as it seems to be,
Yet, precious than gold.
.
Cheemnonso
Why does a man grin when
He’s half way up in his success story,
Yet, sobs when he’s half way down??
.
Guess one can be Happy and Sad at the same time.
.
Cheemnonso…
Winter; cold and dire,
Fills the earth with glum and gloom,
Yet, mere mortals stare.
.
Cheemnonso…
Sister Abigail,
Graceful as a soaring sylph,
Fills the earth with warmth.
.
Cheemnonso ✍️✍️✍️
The abyss of love,
Deep for my heart to eclipse,
Yet, I fall fatuous.
.
Cheemnonso ✍️✍️✍️
That moment when the hands of time stood still,
beknownst to me, a salient star is born,
brimming with joy from her head to her heel,
in a world prepossesed in angst and scorn;
I saw her for who she was to become,
not even a single sane soul could compare,
with her beauty rendering Aphrodite numb,
and her mien as cold as Medussa’s stare;
Fifteen seeds festooned in her garden by God,
fifteen years it took the first to germinate,
umpteen fruits harvested from thy first pod,
umpteen souls her Midas touch will make sate;
Really pleased blood strangled us with its ties,
leaving us with good times and not goodbyes.
.
Cheemnonso ✍️✍️
NONSO'S WORLD 
