Punctures Poems | Examples

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Tingly skies full of surprise oh how I love when I surmise,
 the little rascal aims his dart as if it were, poetic art!

Nobody knows where it might hit, but rest assured, in seconds split,
 that mischief maker's dart will pierce an unsuspecting heart.  

With his freshly sharpened tool, our lover boy creates a silly fool, 
  but, if his arrow punctures you, know his aim is pure and true.

This angel's wish, you must abide.  Forget your pride.  Enjoy the ride!
  When cupid's arrow aims for you, there isn't much that you can do!

When We Get There

When we get to our appointed heaven
hearts and minds still cooling
slights and insults recovering
from many a minor bullet hole
from small caliber affronts
loathing’s and spites
and other petty punctures
wounds covered over so long
with rank plasters
plugs and scabs
that even now leave
a tell-tale lingering smell
an inevitable odor
of a once self-inflicted hell

The Second Plane Has Hit

.
The Second Plane Has Hit
It’s a confirming statement 
Nobody saw the first plane
There is a puncture in wall 
A visible cut out of a plane 
But where is that  plane ?
Did it penetrate       Thru
The tower            Cutting 
Steel        And   Concrete
Drilling a hole like a punch
Plausible. Still is on the TV
Screaming News channels 
A Plane Has Hit  The WTC
But nobody saw that plane
Only A  punctured cut out -
On a steel n concrete tower
Clean cut out clear outlines
Tower is smoldering within
There is no soot on exterior
On screen enters into frame
A plane which is called 2nd
It hits the wall and explodes
Exploded parts then vanish;
Or do they melt in explosion
In either case there is doubt
2nd plane does not cut thru
As the unseen first one did !
1st punctures 2nd explodes
There is no trace of second
There is no trace of first too
Where are those people who
Were supposed to be in these planes

Blissful Torus

Blissful torus conjoins two hearts
Parallax of scriptures 
Centre wherefrom ignition starts
Ancient theories punctures

Left side’s the physical 
Right end spiritual
Entwined, field magical

When heart’s porous
Blissful torus

30-January-2022
Quietus

Gods Hell Fire For Weevil

God’s hell fire for weevil 
Like his final for the Devil, 
For the weevil is equally evil 
To our rice never civil 
And to its consumers a rival 
Always some marvel 
How it ends its travel 
In the sealed bags it quarters 
And the grain of rice it scatters! 

I grant the weevil is insect 
But why every grain dissect 
And its wholesomeness affect?

Yes, not by a little real 
The weevil cherishes cereal 
But is it the wisdom of Daniel 
And is it conceivably ideal 
That holes it punctures in a nutrition 
For consumers reserving malnutrition.

The Sky Tonight

The sky tonight is full of scars
Gaping like my heart-flesh
Punctures of its myriad stars
Still bloody red and fresh

Oh night, don't slip away
I have much more to say
Before you turn to day

I will make right
The sky tonight

September 17th, 2021
Quietus

Sleep Demon

In simplest terms I am a nightmare. 
Pray! O—do not let us fall asleep! 

Stop—and witness me cut your ego
Down to the bone where I shall feast
Upon the blood of your conscience as a 
Vampire would until there remains 
Nothing but the raw opened flesh
Of your shattered soul. 

I am the voice in your head—
And we shall remain savage and
As one entity which weighs heavy
On your mind and punctures your
Sanity. 

O—my darling—how I do love you so.

Dying To Leave

People are fickle
A bothersome tickle
You open the door
To wind up in a pickle 

A dreaded half smile
They stay for a while
You’re too polite
And in denial

Instinctively nice
Prone to sacrifice 
It gets out of hand, and
Infests you with lice

Your genuine heart
The tip of the dart
That punctures your skin
And pierces your heart

You’re better alone
And crave to be home
Which is why you avoid
The dreaded phone

When put on the spot
It’s as if you’ve been shot 
You do as expected
What I’s shall you dot

Which explains your dismay
Too quick, to obey
You’re dying to leave 
While agreeing to stay

Into the Evergreen Woods

With wide-eyed wonder he makes 
      His way into the evergreen woods
          With the curiosity of a child
         Experiencing something new
              For the very first time.

      He takes an early morning walk
       In the young woods after eons
      So alive are the woods in spring!
    Sunlight that punctures the canopy
          Shining brightly on his face

   He enjoys the fresh smell of petrichor
   Taking in sounds of chipping canaries
         As he forges a path through 
   The undergrowth, raindrops held up 
  By leaves above splash atop his head.

        For the longest time, he's out 
In nature again. And what a time he had!
    He left the woods gliding his hands
         Over blades of grass waving
                      Goodbye.


ALL YOURS (March) Poetry Contest(Winner 1st Place)
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Date written: 01/24/2021

Taking Him Apart Bit By Bit

Her blade was her tongue, sharper than any axe or hatchet
Her husband was the butchering block with slices stabs and punctures
Others saw it. He complained sometimes, but she had no ears.
Only a tongue that sliced and diced, 
taking him apart gradually one little chip and chunk at a time.

Tapered

the tapered 

It started with great ambition six lanes motorway
after some time it narrowed and became a 4 line.
That didn´t last it got narrower two lines will do.
then on the road with a line in the middle and that was
OK as well til the asphalt disappeared driving on grit
causes many punctures.
A track, get off an walk to reach the blue mountain-
when getting there, it was slippery and cold.
There must be another mountain that fits the dream.
The highway was optimist youth pointing out stars
not seeing the road got narrower, and it was too late.
The trail is for old men who wait for a miracle or
for someone telling them where to go when the path
leads them to nowhere in particular while dreaming 
of dancing nymphs in the glade.

Running Disease

Temporary bliss
of elation can't disguise
an frozen river
responsible for turning
people's skins waterless and
creeping through otherwise joy.

Rum that punctures your
stomach, leading to fever
and running disease.
Here's the condition: You run 
and pass, but the pain doesn't.

Reserata Carcerem Xviii

wanky wit is not moist motive;
hoisted hankering damp feelings
dark denotations foils fleshened
salient smothers, sil'ette slackened

wielded wit ain't fame - fostered fleas
la-de-da lurch humming pored pleas
meagre magnanimity strained
vying voluptuous veils, torn traits

wedged wit ain't manipulation:
pruning pored chances, gaunt punctures
sassy stances trailing tactic track
jiggery-pokery plumes packs

wisdom ain't taking advantage
it's a game of patience and rage.
        '20:06:11:11:35

Note: of wet wisdom.

Conversion - the Holy Spirit

Punctures the mind with thorns of Truth,
draws forth an inferno from a smoldering ember.
Erupts a Kingdom from a mustard seed
embraces abandonment upon its knees.
Slices open your heart, reorients Truth,
galvanizes purpose and awakens identity.
It pierces your hands, straightens your feet
engulfs your will, takes up its Cross.

All so God may...

Re-knit your soul in the Image of Glory and
Torch your life with the Light of Christ.


Brian's Select F, Any Form, Any Theme
Entered June 13, 2020

Saline Liquid Slipped

eerie eyes etched'n
cloned callous crest
felon face featured
fostering porous punctures
dark dribbles drooled
hoisting haggard pukes

voluptuous vision danced
taunting tempestuous trance
bewitched aura bagged

irking instinct itched
hoisting sassy skills
coursing mouth clipped

bounty battle birthed
saline liquid slipped.
     '20:04:22:18:35

Note: Of pluming picture.

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