Best Lanced Poems
Paint me blue like the sky
rainbow's smile; thunder's cry
clouded curtains rife with rain
till shroud is lanced and bluebirds fly again
Wistful moods in mahogany frames
melancholy painters with undiscovered names
rearrange reveries in pastel hues
decorating lonely walls with brooding blues
Paint me emerald like the sea
feeling caged; rolling free
stormy rage; morning calm
who knows where swelling waves come from?
Which shades best record a personality?
Which side of the coin is preserved for history?
Shall I smile or appear dignified?
Do I show my true self, or try to hide?
Paint me tawny like a lark
as the sky dissolves to dark
flying free but not for long
a gloomy gloaming swallows up its song
What do you see as I hold this pose?
Will you reveal or conceal my imperfect nose?
Will you paint scars and wrinkles or leave no trace?
Will your biography in oils show lines on my face?
Paint me crystalline like a wine glass
for you somehow see right through
the paintbrush captures the epidermis
but the painter overlays the spirit
Superimposing your style, passions, heartbreaks, joie de vivre
onto my facets, form, features, and flaws
with love, you labor on
transforming my brief life into a lasting work of art
Paint me gold like a sunrise
as it marks the dark's demise
background wash of faith, hope, love;
the colors life's palette is made of.
When bones are one with graveyard soils
these memories preserved in oils
are saved for those who later come
that they may know where they've come from
written 1 Sep 2022
...with gratitude for all the inspired artists who
carry forward the grand tradition of portraiture.
Categories:
lanced, art, perspective,
Form:
Rhyme
sun’s heat sunders sand
clustered lanced leaves green hug
widow’s tears collapse
Widow’s Tears is the common name for Commelina erecta var. angustifolia, they bloom on
Texas beaches in sand or clay, and have the characteristic of flowering early in the morning
and fading by noon. The bloom in all seasons but I chose spring to be more commonly
approachable. [1]
[1] Wildflowers and Other Plants of Texas Beaches and Islands, Alfred Richardson
Categories:
lanced, death, depression, loss, nature,
Form:
Haiku
No pagan crown of fossil lairs
Of him I write no verse nor song
T’is not a soup to stir nor share
When lending strength, to something wrong.
Seconds cloned from darkest matter
Mutated minutes dredged by fear
Mind confusion as reason shatters
Innocents lanced by emotion's spears.
Flowers edge the steps and fences
Prayers are uttered near a shrine
Notes of love, as grief commences
A vigil wrought by hearts sublime.
Picking up the scattered pieces
Light must shine to crack the dawn
Support can smooth the furrowed creases
Only hope can make their spirits strong.
Categories:
lanced, confusion, dedication, places,
Form:
Ballad
I dreamed...
Of driftwood
Dancing over waves
Performing flips
And leaps
Before collapsing
Into despair
The deepest depths
Ever swallowing
Can't breathe...
Can't speak...
The driftwood
Breaches the surface
Hanging on
By a splinter
Thunder crackled
Lightning lanced
In the middle of the sea
There are no gods
There are no hopes
And no dreams
Only deepest despair
Of what lies beneath
And the overwhelming sense
The end is nigh
I dreamed...
Of driftwood
But lo and behold
The driftwood
Was my hopes and dreams
Categories:
lanced, anxiety, dark, depression, fear,
Form:
Free verse
In Ancient Graveyard Of Hidden Poems, Truth Danced
In ancient graveyard of hidden poems, truth danced
Hiding deep, as romance keeps, a girl romanced
I a young man let verses sing as they pranced
Yet folly was true, gambling on love I chanced
Soon knight fallen, through guilty heart I was lanced!
Day and night took turns as my sad soul they burned
As my life wept, inner oceans spun and churned
Growing sick as each dark, crying page was turned
In despair, I tore my hair- feeling love spurned
Now lost -get her back, any cost- I so yearned!
First of many, sorrowing and guilt aplenty
I saw world die, had my cries and turned twenty
Far too blue to work I woke without a penny
With my life destroyed and debts far too many
I begged midnight moon send my loving Jenny!
Dawn's golden light therein so very brightly shone
Paying no heed, fled I to dark woods overgrown
While feeling free, woe was me- nothing did I own
Wicked dreams, came with such nightmarish undertones
Break of day, hills they sway with- my loud aching moans!
In ancient graveyard of hidden poems, truth danced
Hiding deep, as romance keeps, a girl romanced
I a young man let verses sing as they pranced
Yet folly was true, gambling on love I chanced
Soon knight fallen, through guilty heart I was lanced!
Robert J. Lindley, 6-14-2021
Rhyme,
( As The Wind Blew Its Sounding Trumpet )
Note:
Thank YOU, Sam Kauffman for the idea to
think about composing this poem based
upon my comment made in my note given
In my new poem this morn,
**Of The Life, The Great Loss, The Solemn Plea**
" This is from my ancient graveyard of hidden poems."
I went right to it and this new creation I wrote..
Categories:
lanced, appreciation, art, creation, heartbroken,
Form:
Rhyme
A Knight from the vast Kingdom
of The King of Holy Throne.
Michael slept within a castle
on beds of peat moss, and of loam.
His face was sedimentary,
though laughter mapped its course.
And his gleaming hair cascaded,
much like a Viking of the Norse.
His raiment wasn’t fancy.
No silk nor satin hose.
But his mind was quick as silver
and his heart was pure as gold.
Cloaked without, by a robe of integrity.
Fortified within, by a will of steel.
He wielded the Sword of Justice,
while holding Truth up as his shield.
Saint Michael’s crusade was legendary,
as was the power of his sword.
Forged to slay the inner dragons,
in reverent service to our Lord.
Countless times the blade was tested,
for malice dwells not on defeat.
Never lacked he for contenders,
disciples of rumors and deceit.
Bad Rumor sowed the seed of doubt
within the mind of man.
Watered from the trough of spite,
he conceived his evil plan.
Each rancid seed that sprouted
grew to a bud of tarnished mail.
Thus, shrouded by corrosion,
he sought corruption to prevail.
When Rumor heard of Saint Michael,
his phosphorous eyes lit up with hate.
Armed with his pitchfork and scythe,
he charged through his hellish gates.
Targeted by dark ambition,
saddled by vicious greed,
he raced upon the clouds fate,
engulfed by jealousy.
.
Michael felt the evil presence
and strapped on his Mighty Sword.
Then he rode off to a clearing,
in the sweet realm of The Lord.
Rumor attacked with animosity,
his trident held, as if a spear.
But as the Sword of God unsheathed,
Rumor was lanced by sudden fear.
Michael raised the Sword of Eminence
as if to pierce the sky.
While sunlight sparked along its blade
a beam smote Rumor’s eye.
Blazing light seized Rumor’s mind.
It seared his ravaged soul.
And when the inner battle ended,
Rumor’s heart was charred to coal.
As Saint Michael wiped soot and ashes
from the length of his trusted sword,
his eyes fell upon the hilt
to runes inscribed there, by The Lord:
“May The Force be your faith
May your spirit know The Lamb
May Love guard your heart
May The Light guide your hand.”
Categories:
lanced, dedication, faith, passion, peace,
Form:
Verse
There once was a Narwhal named Norrie
Who went for a drive in a lorry
They crashed into a truck
His horn lanced it, bad luck
And the holey truck driver is sorry.
Categories:
lanced, fun, nonsense,
Form:
Limerick
I ain’t a doctor and never will be,
but one night I got into hot water,
I was trying to help but it didn’t help me,
the night a young wife had a daughter.
And it all began with a sunset,
and me underneath a palm tree,
cutting some fronds off the palm,
due to threats from the S.E.C.
As I cut away fronds near the wire,
a spike lanced into my hand,
and try as I might to retrieve it,
the flamin’ thing had made a stand.
I couldn’t quite hold it with tweezers,
and a needle could just feel the end,
now seeing that it’s after hours,
outpatients I’ll have to attend.
And quietly I sat and I waited,
my turn for the doctor to see,
when a fellow stormed through the door,
in panic he yelled, “Please help me!”
“My wife is out there in a taxi,
and right now she’s having a baby!”
Swiftly the waiting room emptied,
and the only one left there is me.
So I ran to the aid of the father,
and flung open the taxicab door,
removing the young mothers clothes,
and throwing them onto the floor.
Her contractions were ever so close,
I could tell by the way she did shout,
so I yelled at her “Keep on pushing,
and the baby will find its way out.”
But she insisted on wanting to sit up,
I laid across her, to hold her down,
her legs and her arms were all flaying,
and she really was going to town.
Now I was beginning to panic,
‘cause I think her water just broke,
and as I tried to feel for the baby,
somebody grabbed me and spoke.
It was the young mother’s husband,
who thanked me but said, “You’re too late,
my wife has delivered a girl,
and you’re in the wrong taxi mate!”
Categories:
lanced, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
Painful self actualization
quickly brights to light
paltry reasons (with or
without rhyme) a desolate sight
within blinkered mindseye hindsight
grotesque grimace shocks with affright
desolate landscape
precipitated when airtight
vacuum sealed sequestered,
muckraked, furloughed...
which past existence now doth bite
back with a vengeance more agonizing
than any imaginable plight
feeble effort thru poetry
to portray psychological bombsight
cathartic, emetic, pathetic... ejection
minus (all gore rhythm)
red tattered torn flesh ala bullfight,
vigil held under
deathly hallowed candlelight
lack of living will trumped right
against autopsy, eh
scant material worth any copyright
deceased did request mourners
to revel in daylight
of life (l'chaim) delight
within simple pleasures downright
unfettered, yet respectful
of self and others fight
for peace with strong lanced arms,
yet...shy away from fistfight
while standing firm
on righteous ground,
versus passively taking flight
modestly acknowledge accomplishments,
sans reflection initial birthed floodlight
ideally rejoice asper positive contribution
within webbed, wide world despite
shortcomings vis a vis height
insight, might,... dismissing as trite
customary, healthy, quality traits
sustaining virtuous yeast
leavening kindled hindsight
carried into darkness of afterlife
soul asylum void of oblivion
analogous to eternal midnight,
where surviving kin begat,
viz biological millwright,
which sunny daughters
became darling lasses overnight
I ask do not weep, nor mourn,
neither heap exaggerated flattery, quite
upon the head of
this beastly boyish sight,
whose dying wish
expansive though slight
points to stopping for persons white
red, brown, black...since one's birth
until...final seconds usher
mortal into twilight!
Categories:
lanced, dark, desire, memorial, my
Form:
Metrical Tale
They crawl into your shadows
Simmering in the quiet
Lanced in the heart by the world
Swirling in automatic-stop emotions
There in a cab somewhere in Detroit
Out of money and full of mind
A thousand thriving theologies
Dancing in their brain
Unable to open the door
Unable to pay the man
They are kicking invisible cans
Down the aisles of libraries
Burrowing like Kafka into
Any and every trail that
Holds the false promise of salvation
Categories:
lanced, writing,
Form:
Free verse
The collaboration between the street and the Y2K mutants had commenced. These 8o’s baby’s filled the night’s air with green lite smoke, and choked back opiate related dreams from white coat masters. These were the city trolls. Forced to bend to society’s creation, of the new crazed sensation. Symbolic doses, hit the millennial air, as many become ready to hallucinate the night away, with a love for everything once ignored. Now the new age scene has turned many into fossilized poppers. As the years trickled away, the rotted souls, which were bought and sold, helped to build up treacherous narcotics related, public sedated, stick-up kids. Stuck with felonious tactics, many became devious. This was now the new age past-time. It was debauchery fitted and fallen into the midnight hour.
Madness was now shared, among those celled up with bites taken out of the family’s love. Years wrinkle into the fold of existence, as the drug fiend and high and mighty pushers create tactics to have pockets full of presidential green backs. These buckeye babies were now renegades forming freelance robbery hits from city to city. This was excitement for the ages. Their dopamine rushed out onto resurrected pipes, as bloody needle points were beginning to fornicate the blue passage. Now underground these were the people infected by thrown away existence. Authors of their own free-lanced hell. A swollen deviation tears threw, like a wicked witch twister. Now crucified by the same authoritative empire they once tried to live by. No longer will family love be embezzled, nor will they be upheld to hear the cruel-hearted deepest sold-off cries.
Categories:
lanced, addiction, anger, anxiety, culture,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Jousting only because of the kings pleas,
lanced once too often feeling apathy,
drinking from cup,
holes sprung much,
feeling like a piece of holey swiss cheese.
11-14-16
Categories:
lanced, drink, humor,
Form:
Limerick
November 6th 2018 - election day
Later today after
all votes get cast
post final countdown,
the winning candidates
ought to be known
way before break fast
cometh on the lanced
morrow (for champions),
nonetheless
my fingers and toes crossed,
that those donned diametrically
opposed to establishmentarian
(reed conservative
buttoned down
MAGA stalwarts) deemed
more dangerous than
beastie boys, or
foo fighting, Outkast
sans, these progressive forward
thinking Democratic activists
(purportedly threatening
gerrymandered territory,
where white Anglo Saxon
Protestant hegemony dominates
status quo regarding
dhow ting Thomas Nast
tee Donkeys as
hashtagged by Trump),
I pray these true
purring blue state
representatives clinch,
the majority to oust vast
Republican politicians cowed,
demeaned, and excoriated
for NOT fawning
prince supple lee,
nor paying expected
obeisance as mealy
mouth sycophants, that she
push hilly accede toward
belligerent, execrable,
and incriminating, nee
Machiavellian hot headed,
quasi coiffed,
donned, and puffed que
hair raising bully,
whose vindictive
uber lyft tartly tinged
tongue lashing,
they risk acerbic
punitive un re
lent ting vitriol stemming
from recalcitrance determined
by the fuhrer wannabe
wool shear lee be silenced
unless that bigoted,
"FAKE" man hat
tinned unabashed, unhinged,
and unruly
villainous president we
the village people nominated
to bulldoze zee
American free
dumbs, now made irrelevant!
Categories:
lanced, 12th grade, anti bullying,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Looking at the clearest water
clarity with a depth of person.
The longer I watch its beauty pure;
I see what time has lanced.
The closer I travel with my road
I understand its epoch.
Looking at the clearest water
Its clarity has begun to muddle.
The longer I epoch
I see little of what once was.
Copyright 2011 by Genebrother
Categories:
lanced, analogy, beauty, courage, emotions,
Form:
Free verse
Our backyard
Whirlwind of summer firefly
Embers
Stirs up
From the long graves of grass
By the sprawling brooms of July 4th fireworks
Booming distant in the furled sky
Up high
The fire flies swirl to tree tops
Breadcrumb stars for swooping bats
Too many blinks to be gulped whole
Let it go
Paths split
Thunder fades to echoes
Consciousness is everywhere
So plentiful
Our heads tilt
Broken from their podiums
Like vandalized statues
Knees cracked ribs lanced
Still upright in the gallery of this summer
My wife and I
Hands freed from our marble robes
Hold together a single sparkler
Gaze to you
Private
Quiet
Uncertain future.
Categories:
lanced, celebration, firework, july, marriage,
Form:
Free verse