Lanced Poems | Examples

Wilderness

Wilderness 

Moonlight stretches into the clearing,
intangible ...but offering comfort.
She is dying now, pining to be rescued,
her breathing jagged, her endurance spent;
the bullet had lanced her stomach 
therefore prolonging agony.

Behind her lies a zick-zacked trail
of red, splattered death, her own.
She had been born a lone wolf
but now seeks release in moonlight's arms.
A terminal breath, a final flick of death 
while her cubs, confused cries, wing the night .

Eventually moonlight drifts;
shadows lie down beside the lone wolf
as hunters scour the ground;
they, like wolves, seek life out of wilderness.

emotional shrapnel

invincibility had been a difficult pastime 
the flak vest of insecurity and coverups 
had managed to inflate anxieties and fears
to the bursting point of impromptu explosion
 
the festering boil had to be lanced at any cost
for resentments anger hurt and self-harm to subside	
a bullet proof illusion was no longer an option
to call it friendly fire would be an understatement

what started as a splinter soon became a red-hot cudgel
incising the mind soul body complex of delusions
yet no more fully detached from valid emotions
he decided that having feeling was better than amnesia

You've Been Sanctity Claused

I was a potato type of guy, forget the cookies and carrots, 
didn't believe in Santa nor Cinderellas with golden chariots .
Twas' late at night as I crunched my chips I watched  TV  
lo and behold what did I hear ? a large thump and a humf,  
coming from the chimney, Oh Dear ! 
He stomped and he clomped then he said to me,  
" You live like a pigster and where is your sister ? 
clean up your place, what the Hee!  " 
He held up a sock and my heart went KerPlunk  
as I watched him remove all my favorite junk...   
He then gave me a card that was both soft and hard 
dipped in gold.  It was lanced with a sweet magical stance.      
He then waited and hummed as he Jingle Belled some 
"It's time for my pension" he said, then he paused. 
 "Guess what ol' chap, you've been Sanctity Claused !"

Full Moon Dream

In the futile triviality 
of the desolate wasteland,
a sunburnt solitary tree 
languished a long while,
cast nonetheless 
on the parched ground 
a sensuous shadow, 
my secret sanctum.

A crystal path I had paved 
to the realm of retreated yearning,
along the contorted contours 
of the disguised desire,
where intrepid roses bloomed 
amidst the spiculed cactus,
the scent took me on mirage 
to the oasis of reverie.

In the motif of morphed image 
in my unclosed eyes
the lanced landscape turned 
into the garden of glory,
the fringe of flying cloud  
captured colors of horizon’s pallet,
the beguiled breeze conducted
captivating concerto of twilight. 

In mystique night you came enticed,
floated on the flair of stardust, 
radiant in the amorous aurora
of silver sequined moonshine,
lifted the shroud of secrecy, 
entered my forlorn abode, 
where I dreamed, 
I was the full moon in your sky.

Peak Unclimbed

Through troubled times I traveled far, 
lugging life with lanced dreams’ deep scar.  
Twilight tinged the mountain mystique,
I couldn’t climb the attainment peak, 
failed life faded like shooting star.

I Dreamed

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

July 4th Private Celebration

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.

Threefold Flame of Christ

The Trinity within us is the seed of eternal life.  It is God's presence in our souls
that is both manifested here on earth and also present when we reshape at heaven's door 
Orbs of beauty grace enhanced 
threefold flames of love entranced 
enraptured by His light we lanced 
follow Him blindly, in a path that has been marked on the day of our precious birth;
Blessed is the fire that burns deep within our soul .  It is the flame of the human spirit touched into being by the mysteries of life. It is the fire of reason, the fire of compassion, the fire of community, 
the fire of justice, the fire of faith.   It is the fire of love burning deep in the human heart that exists with Divine Glow inside every human life.  
Threefold flame of the heart 
from God we will never be apart 
He is our Holy counterpart 

June 27, 2022

Expunged

lagoon sand berm lanced
by tide and waves oozed its pus
flushed clean by sea fizz

No Regrets

“Without Regrets”

In the deep of the night
Our blankets drenched in sweat
I fought with all my might

Thinking she might be right
I chose to be her pet             	 
In the deep of the night		 

In moon light bright
Without regret
I fought with all my might

She took a big bite
I will never forget
In the deep of the night

She lanced this poor knight
Her skin of sweet violet 
I fought with all my might

It really wasn’t a fight 
But to her delight
In the deep of the night
I fought with all my might
	
							2/22/2022

Do Not Lance That Cyst

Don’t lance it everyone I know begins to sing. 
Don’t! Don’t! Don’t!  it’s not good idea!~
I lanced it myself last time, and they know it. 
They chant the same things as my sister the nurse.

Nurse practitioners and doctors 
Whose names and faces I do not remember
Are giving me the lecture
Don’t lance it! Don’t chance it!
Don’t lance it!  It is on my right breast and I am tempted.

If the voice comes into my head tonight,
Persisting and insisting, will I go ahead and lance it?
I don’t think so.  This time is different.
This time barely touching this cyst brings me a lot of pain.

The last time was different
Weird it is in the same spot though
I take the antibodies they prescribe
And tell them about lancing it myself last time.
The doctor has me repeat the story. I guess he did not believe me?

My sister the nurse says “Did you tell them if they don’t take it out, you will.”
We are on facetime.
I give her our Daddy’s grin.
She laughs and says “you looked just like dad when you smiled.”
I pick up the knife and show it to her, just to rile her up.

My Cyst

My breast is getting in the way of my thoughts today
Remember the time no one would lance the cyst 
So I lanced it myself?
I am thinking now that may have been a mistake.
I reach for the carving knife.
It may be time for a secondary operation.
Surely this thing would not dare grow back a third time!

Forgiveness Brings Relief

I do not want to see her face or hear her voice yet
I am licking my wounds, relishing in my hurt feelings
Not ready to forget, maybe never ready to forgive
Most childish, but please allow me this luxury.

She grovels, but I do not believe her.
I am holding on to my rage, killing myself softly
Outthinking what is happening.
Imagining myself into a frenzy of irritation.

She tries over and over. I do not relent, determined to retain my ego’s hurts.
Forgiveness is not easy coming, I get coaxed into it, by a wiser person.
One who understands that I am truly in a dark place, 
created by my own determined ego. My attitude lightens almost immediately.

I feel like an abscessed tooth that just got lanced.
The pressure and the build up so much worse
than anticipated.
Release brings relief. 


Written 5-28-2021
Contest: Forgiveness
Sponsor: Unseeking Seeker

Thorn In the Flesh

a thorn pricked her skin so venom oozed out

she laughed it off with one almighty shout

lanced the huge boil and proceeded to reap

ignored sharp pain though the bandage did seep


blessings arrive in all kinds of fashion

when poison left she took to her passion

gathered rose buds and flowers late at night

conquered all fear and abandoned her fright

dreams settled her soul and planted fresh seeds


aware that lush peace was all that one needs

she gave all secateurs away for free

applied soil and compost to her apple tree

next to roses she buried defeat

talked to sweet plants and watered the treat

when she woke again with sadness no more

she minded the morning cleansed to the core


the story’s morale is one single prong

even if painful reveals what is wrong

when life hands out sorrow change direction

for its progress that counts not perfection

On New Shores

Lovely is the sound of water
Lapping on the teeth of Pelee
Island shores, when lanced on its
Crests thrusts some ferry's horn—the knell,
Some tarnished brass bell (I have heard)
Maddens beneath it, and breaks apart,
The rhythm of marching water.

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