Best Puncturing Poems

Your incandescence drew me to your flame
Moth-like, I gravitated to your light
Then feigning nonchalance, I asked your name
The music of your voice set me to flight
And added several inches to my height
When you inquired of my name I saw stars
Stellar arrays beyond Venus or Mars
Puncturing...

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As the life of the day nears its last breath,
With a glow of crimson, forewarning its death,
Upon its cresting, the reflection, daunting,
The sea sets free a beauty, haunting
The depths of its treasures of unknown span,
The Queen Of Pearls, secluded from man.

This queen, a beauty of...

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Skyline Art to Home

Skylines
Puncturing clear blue blue skies,
Evidence of mankind’s rise,
Or fall.

Skylines
Winky, Twinkly, in dark black nights
Changing, changing ‘til dawn from twilight,
Low or tall.

Skylines
Wrapped in mystic fog of morn;
Vehicles forced to press on horns;
In a mood.

Skylines
Glued in cubist silhouette,
God’s glory colors in the west,
Weary workers...

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A glint in the black, like stars
    Pearly, polished, pointy peaks of a fiend
      Fangs of self-deprecation, puncturing every effort
    Coursing the flow of doubt, discouragement and defeat
I may not see your face, beast,...

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Collisions avalanche, beneath the icy
Waves, of the North Atlantic.
Birthed in the cradled of Belfast,
A maritime giant, became crimsoned,
By champions shattered tradition,
An ironic omen presence to come.
For she bares tragedy’s mark, the name
Given to this colossus,  the titanic.
An aquatic diamond gem, of ocean
Liners, refined and...

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Right now I respect your needs
I respect your wishes
Even though they stab
Like shards of shattered glass
Shrapnel puncturing my heart
Uneven in my thoughts
Unable to think due to a lack
A lack of function in which
My mundane self became accustomed
Expecting your love
Which right now I  realize was
Disrespecting...

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for René Passeron*

             You may not grow old too soon
          if
Things you have known will come back to you again
No revision nor recall need...

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Lately I've been on flats, between heaven and hell
Who but the Almighty buffers me from lack

My stance is firm, I move with care
Not to tear or deplete what's left of me

As parents persevere, praying renewal of psyche
Grown children are puncturing precious time

You'd wonder why wise...

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A wet coin on the mall floor
of sanity's foolish hope

Lies next to others
thrown away by desperate measures
with limited dreams

As they sip on frappucinos;
non-fat coated sin.

Their broken backs
walking with stolen canes
off broke back mountains;
in God we doubt

Another exodus with no occupational hazards,
just dramatizations of puncturing joy...

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BEAUTIFULLY BOLD

The purple angel facing the sun, so fair to look upon
has a tenacious grip on the moors; it roots secured.
With its head held high, it sways at ease in the breeze;
yet for puncturing thorns, surely, it will be scorned.

Never trained for battles, its winter...

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This is how it starts
the decline of who we are, the decline of something more
the start of wars
Installed in us is confidence
confidence, a blessing or a curse
Without confidence we stand degraded, disenchanted, alone
while with too much we kick down too many doors
in celebration of charm...

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Love is something I have always
sort of accepted...just went with...
needing no manual, nor preacher
to entice me – I miss those days:
when a heart was free from hyper,
sonic bands,  puncturing the eyes of 
internal waves – those innate crests
I once surfed with mental impunity.......

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 Count  Dracula a haunting figure, through centuries alike
desending on Whitby,an eerly thought, also a shuddering fright
between my hometown Middlesbrough, and the seaside port
the 199 steps to the abbey dwells a frightening thought

Holidaying in Whitby, many times in our youth
the tails of the night...

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You who sexless heard the pounding of the sex
     nerves    conditioned to the tune
            through all the slushy push of distending flesh
     ...

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Among your orchard grooves lemon green grew
At first the dream-like pear-shape eyes
Until i parted and stared closely 
Into your cherries iris pupils
That aim the Cupid's arrow, 
Piercing through my reddened apple
Puncturing a spring full of blood
That gushed to overwhelm my melon soul,
Until the supple roundness
Of...

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