Long Lance Poems
Long Lance Poems. Below are the most popular long Lance by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lance poems by poem length and keyword.
I loathe shucking clothes,
(no matter eyes severely myopic)
in preparation for here goes
another warm shower quickly
relaxing this senescent
body ready to doze
soon after lathering
this blubbery body
most unwanted fat grows
on me, no matter healthy diet
of worms, or how I stand,
not so easy add a pose
zing losing battle – Mary Jo's
if and geeze us of bulge ill flattering
particularly quiverly, sans white
"WALL" tire tread fully goes
steely belted around lower
abdominal area like lava floes
siring unsightly expose
yore squishy Jew dish priestly
punchy,plasma paunchy, gristly...
pillow like marshmallows
fittingly, rotundly soundly
identical with other schlep
tin (tin tabulation) grungy hobos,
this lap pissed lard (lord) Who Lee
bemoaning, how ilk readily knows,
where unwanted bulky flab...
most detested - hence Corp Yule Lance
leaves noth thin to noblesse oblige,
know bull eats obese,
anorexia nervosa or chance
barking out orders reminiscent, when he
hapt tubby a caller at
weekly square and/or contra dance,
now requisitioned to insulate
and excessively enhance
body electric can be mushed
into likeness of fleshy France
or repurposed into expanse
resembling any country,
whose name Kants
be easily pronounced, and historical
events glommed together recognizable
as Ataturk with a lance
bequeathed to rule World advance
sing gluttony as his divine providence,
thus requires deep dish allegiance
(non - fiber - binding contract)
for eats and make decadent
every fleshpot gourmand
stretching cellular skein to capacitance
bestowing guaranteed deliverance
with their rolling
ballooning massive circumference
into orbit with Earthly moon officiant
eternal fondue irrelevance!
It is that season again
When men are men
In the upper class ready to defend
Their social status as leaders
With innocent images of being sweeter
Finding ladies to be courted
Despite not being able to afford it
Girls flip the magazine pages
While their beaus make their wages
For one evening out
Acting mature looking good no doubt
They call it a formal dance where the chivalry carries the gentlemen lance
Escorting their ladies
Who were childhood mate tees
Filled with beauty talk they have that certain walk
Onto the dance floor
Innocent romance in store
Prom night is here and trying not to sneer
Since it is good bye to friends
After thirteen years together in one community of academic social mends
It is your stand, your plan to take command
Kids no more saying kindly adult hood open the door
Written: June 08, 2025, contest Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon.
Quote "Raise your words, not your voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder." By RUMI
******************
As the soft fingers of dawn spread light,
And dusk fades, in a hollow sight.
A mumbling incoherence stirs within my soul,
My muddled mind benumbed, lacking control.
It hums quietly in the glow of the moon,
A wave that goes unseen under the flow of noon.
Proles of spasmodic gait lead me to a chaotic tide,
Where anxieties ease, and concerns subside.
No passing fancy, no shallow sound,
But wisdom is weaved, madly wound.
A beacon illuminated by love's lance,
A strong blaze that endures time's dance.
It whispers a soft but asinine song,
A mesalliance whispers right and wrong.
Red coral compass made by a cosmic hand,
To keep me secure, against the macabre's stand.
Once silenced by clairsentience fears,
Fumbled under jugged crushing years.
But embers sparked and cacophony revived,
A child's voice— a robotic drone thrived!
Now in a rhythm of bliss, hand in hand,
We dance where quiet whimsy musing stands.
No longer achingly chained, fog, or fright,
Only mirrors of ecstasy carved in gold light.
So I sail the swell, in harmony and trust,
No need for clamor or whimsical must.
For my unencumbered voice, free to rejoice,
Has always known—this is the right choice.
How do you feel
when you look to the skies..?
the cumulus inspired your innocent imagination
with playful marshmallow fantasies —
the sun peeked from behind
peony-puffs of airy white
to admire the flounce and frill
of your yellow sundress —
in the morning of your youth
you felt buoyant
by the age of your afternoon
you basked in the warmth of the sun at its peak
golden the glow and short the shadows
though heaped nimbus clouds hugged your horizons..
heavy the rain and hard the hail
as lightning's lance pierced the heart of the day...
your refuge the bold shield of the roof you built —
you felt tried.. but tenderly triumphant!
like a cosmic tear rolled down upon the hills
the paunchy sun puddles on the dark edge of Earth
a last languid look at an old friend
before the spill and burn behind the rim -
the sweep of cirrus serene and cerise
filled with embers of dreams
and prayers and wishes at peace —
in the elder moments of your evening hour
the sun sets as the evening raises its silver torch
how do you feel
when you look to the skies..?
—a satisfied soul smiles
Susan Ashley
January 23, 2023
~ Fifth Place ~
Premiere Contest: Contest NO 1180
Sponsor: Brian Strand
~ Third Place ~
Premiere Contest: How Do You Feel
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
Warm the blaze to a glow from whence we came,
send signs and wonder, Lord, from Bethlehem.
Since childhood, they're loyal, beloved friends,
felt stuff ain't right, their love for him transcends,
All through the night, this next part is crucial,
trace that flawed vessel and its removal.
'Tis a blessing having this headstrong doctor,
him a self-murder, brought on the copter
he's convinced our son strongly has a chance,
ahh, I found it, right here I need to lance,
controlled prime blood vessel, quick solution,
the bleeding has stopped, need for diversion
veins strangling the heart, dear God make it free,
as the blade searches ... for the life of me.
I sit alone as evening claims the day,
with common crow my only confidant.
I watch the sun sink slowly in the bay
while musing life and love so nonchalant.
As night descends upon my humble soul,
my furtive feelings ponder kinship lost.
I’m missing precious love that makes me whole;
my dearest darling gone at such a cost.
And woe I say, why did she go away,
and leave my heavy heart in agony;
behind, my shallow spirit here to stay;
she cast our love away so damnably.
Alas, I rue thee, my ascetic life,
and long to lance my heart with wretched knife.
January 17, 2018
Poem of the Day - January 18, 2018
Medieval times
A time of splendour
With gallant Knights
Ladies so slender
Jousting tournaments
The ladies all squeal
Exploding of hoofs
The clash of steel
Enter the Black Knight
To a round of jeers
The White Knight enters
To resounding cheers
First pass no foul
They try it once more
The Knight in White
Slumps to the floor
They carry him off
And tend to his wounds
A Blue Knight appears
The ladies all swoon
The maidens favourite
Known far and wide
Lord Richard of Leeds
His lance by his side
They ready for battle
Shields are in place
Masks of armour
Covering their face
Towards each other
They gallop full speed
Lances held high
The snorting of steeds
The Black Knight falls
The hero wins out
Blue Knight celebrates
Victory in the joust
Approaching the King
Horse and rider bow
The people go wild
Allegiance they vow
Medieval times
Hail to the King
Jousting tournaments
What glory they bring
The helmsman sings a merry song:
Haec est vera fraternas,
and downs a cup of something strong,
Hick, vera, hick, hick, fraternas.
The sailors dance a lusty jig,
forsaking sails, crow's nest and rig.
Young princes and their ladies fair
join in the drunken helmsman's air:
Haec est vera fraternas.
Commoners with nobles prance.
Friars and laymen, how they dance!
The jester sports a broken lance,
a trophy from the fields of France.
"To Henry!" sounds the raucous toast.
Hear the young knights, how they boast
of conquests on and off the field,
when foemen or coy maidens yield.
While Fitzroy strokes a wench's leg,
the boatswain opes yet one more keg.
See their chains of gleaming gold,
but feel the wind grown strangely cold.
William the atheling alone,
to the marrow of each bone
feels what sorrows must atone
for the sins of court and throne.
Woe to the ship, woe to the realm,
where none is mindful of the helm.
Woe to the king who ne'er shall smile,
woe to those bereft of child.
Gone is that day and gone that night,
gone that ship so ghostly white,
gone the prince who bravely sought
to save his sister, deed ill bought!
If, one night by Barfleur's shore,
you may hear that song once more:
Haec est vera fraternas,
et haec est aeternitas.
The helmsman sings a merry song:
Haec est vera fraternas,
and downs a cup of something strong,
Hick, vera, hick, hick, fraternas.
The sailors dance a lusty jig,
forsaking sails, crow's nest and rig.
Young princes and their ladies fair
join in the drunken helmsman's air:
Haec est vera fraternas.
Commoners with nobles prance.
Friars and laymen, how they dance!
The jester sports a broken lance,
a trophy from the fields of France.
"To Henry!" sounds the raucous toast.
Hear the young knights, how they boast
of conquests on and off the field,
when foemen or coy maidens yield.
While Fitzroy strokes a wench's leg,
the boatswain opes yet one more keg.
See their chains of gleaming gold,
but feel the wind grown strangely cold.
William the atheling alone,
to the marrow of each bone
feels what sorrows must atone
for the sins of court and throne.
Woe to the ship, woe to the realm,
where none is mindful of the helm.
Woe to the king who ne'er shall smile,
woe to those bereft of child.
Gone is that day and gone that night,
gone that ship so ghostly white,
gone the prince who bravely sought
to save his sister, deed ill bought!
If, one night by Barfleur's shore,
you may hear that song once more:
Haec est vera fraternas,
et haec est aeternitas.
(I couldn't talk about it so I wrote a poem)
Predator
Heartbreak comes in many ways.
The first one will haunt me for all my days.
My every nightmare and dream has your face
to ignite my screams, my heart beat haste.
Time won't heal this shattered trust,
the lies you told of the future “us”.
You used your power and prominence,
used the pulpit as your lance.
You claim God's voice was your own,
“His” words from your lips like honeycomb.
Sweet to the ear, a seductive flow,
still just a child, I didn't know.
Just like a sick soap opera or Lifetime movie, you set your sights, began to groom me.
I feel so foolish and naive looking back …
at seventeen, innocent, easy to attack.
Like the lame and young ones trailing the herd, predators take the straying,easy kill first.
How patient you were, lying in wait.
You took careful steps as if I might escape. Sneaking up on me in plain sight
until your touch, familiar, I didn't fight. Spinning this elaborate fantasy, our destiny. Ordained by God, you made me believe.
Then you struck, like the viper you were,
after years of a patient petting, persistent purr. A velvet vice, an auspicious anchor,
held me captive in false love’s languor.
Then the poisonous venom began its work, you used me in ways that only hurt.
I was a willing, if deceived, participant…
so in love, no evil intent.
Then some wisdom from above,
in the form of family and out of love.
The truth so evident with blinders off,
some won't believe me, will only scoff.
Five years of his amorous attentions,
with promises of forever never failing to mention.
The patina of youth and vicious game of prey, his sick desires for me, began to fade.
You found a limping, more vulnerable gazelle, and knowing this my family tells.
Although I find it hard to trust,
my faith in God is deeper and thus,
He's used this pain to help me find
peace and truth, leaving the past behind.
For my faith is no longer in any man,
and gratefully, never will be again.
Justice on this earth is not guaranteed…
but from his wicked spell I am freed!