Best Itch Poems
Illustrious
Phantom
You chase
My desire
For satisfaction
As I chase you
Hither and thither
Like the rainbow's end
Always just out of reach
Escalating intensity or just
A trick of the cruel mind
Dancing across my skin
Infiltrating my sanity
As a ghostly feather
Until I find your
Illusive hiding
Place
Ahh
I've a growing b-tch
of a persistent itch
plaguing a part down under
in a well-hidden spot
sweaty and hot
tearing my sanity asunder
I long for a table
legs sturdy and stable
for a really quick rub up-and-down
even a toothpick
or any such gimmick
heaven help; it's now inside my crown
Tightly I'm tethered
I grin but nay bear it
for relief lift my legs a mere tad
the heat's volcanic
the swelling gigantic
as far as itch goes this is bad
Mouth starting to foam
I hobble on home
I've mere minutes 'fore madness takes hold
my head's on the spin
an orchestra within
one step from insanity's threshold
Once inside my abode
rev to fast turbine mode
my eyes and my fingers a-twitch
on the verge of cuckoo
I kick off my shoe
with relish scratch the dastardly itch
I curse, for this morning
I disregarded Ma's warning:
"Today sultry and hot is our weather
to avoid insanity
wear shoes that are comfy
not those ones of el cheapo leather."
Yes, you're one sexy witch, dear love, but now it's Halloween,
And I've a witchy tale to share, so keep your broom between ...
Five decades hence I knew the thrills of flesh, and did imbibe,
Yet there's but one that's apt to still pop up, let me describe:
It starts with just a tickled tip that twitches toward my toes,
As oft' can be a grandeur glitch, until what's grander, grows.
In dermal terms, my skin can squirm to feel infirmed and wet,
What fairer sexes call 'the glow', (we lesser-fair's call 'sweat').
Now when that glow has burst, I'm first immersed in finding you,
For you've the spunky junk to free the monkey from his zoo.
I'm damned if I can speak, my cheeks just bubble up with suds,
The things that hang or dangle, cursed to tangle with my duds.
I'm apt to find my fingers filled with zippers, buttons, snaps ...
And spouting things like "I love you", to fill the awkward gaps.
Those tickles turn to tingles and they mingle through an urge,
That brings our things together 'midst a single clinging merge.
Its fever gives new meaning to the old phrase come-and-gone,
And your sexy pose, (and fewer clothes), will always bring it on.
Now please don't fear, my vixen dear, when tickling has begun,
No stopping what is popping up, there's lots of hopping fun ...
The barrel of my kitschy gun has schemes it needs to hatch,
And when my love-lust itches, hon, it's you I aim to scratch!
Written and submitted on October 21, 2019
For the "Itch, Witch, Glitch, Or Twitch" Poetry Contest
Nina Parmenter, Sponsor.
Spray your love in the masochistic mist,
shapely satisfying the illicit itch...
With handcuffs upon the wicked wrist,
narcotic nectars that will bewitch…
Salacious secretions that must assist,
appeasing appetites that shall enrich...
Salivating on parts hardly ever kissed,
exploring erotica within its niche…
Licentious desires amidst negligent night,
engulfing erections are craving...
Passionate pistils partake in their plight,
tender thoughts are misbehaving…
Bodies in motion divulge in delight,
as animalistic aphrodisiacs are raving...
Concupiscence convulsions do bite;
willing wanton wizards are waving…
Hold me tight as we twist and twitch,
upon luscious landscapes yearning...
Libidinousness lactations in their stitch,
beauteous breasts are burning…
Carnal covetousness stings their pitch,
for evocative emulations returning...
Leaving humble humanity in the ditch,
lacrimal lewdness upon learning.
Oct.15.2019
Itch, witch, glitch or twitch
Sponsored by: Nina Parmenter
Background Music...Sade
"No Ordinary Love"
With Female Virtual Voice
N/A for contest
a winter sun plays hide and seek
odd shadows chill my bones
reminding me of annual constraints
i crave to escape instinctively
a caged animal an inmate
itching for the taste of freedom
i feel a desperate panic
seeking latitude by longitude
An urge for trekking cruising
globetrotting and jetsetting
a deeper innate hankering
to recharge spent batteries
AP: 2nd place 2020
Submitted on May 21, 2020 for contest BRIAN'S CHOICE O sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 3RD
Habitually, feeling an itch to write,
I’m introspective: sitting at the table
over a blank sheet, cherishing my blight
and rust, I think: “What if I'll not be able
to write a single stanza anymore?
What if to chuck it all, to travel, omnia
mea mecum porto*… What is all this for:
the doubts, the all-nighters, the insomnia?
What if…" Oh, wonder! In my line of sight
I have the lines: “…feeling an itch to write,
I’m introspective”.
(lat.) "All that is mine I carry with me", the quote that Cicero ascribes to Bias of Priene.
25.10.2019
Itch, Witch, Glitch Or Twitch Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Nina Parmenter
Sometimes I muse that life can be a *itch
When every prospect seems of rosy hue
From cerulean sky a fatal glitch
Precipitates its mischief; then I rue
That naive expectation of a child
On whom Dame fortune yet has only smiled
Then something in my skin begins to itch
In parts inviolate to ease of scratch
And paranoia whispers: “‘tis the Witch
Who cast her evil influence, to hatch
Black parasites that burrow in my brain
Contaminate all thought, implant a bane”
Should this dark image linger unrelieved
Or might a metaphorical light switch
Restore a life where hope may be conceived
So cradled safe and calm, with ne’er a twitch
Neath skies with butterflies where bluebirds sing
Believe that? Chance you’ll believe - anything
Date your poem written: 10 October 2019
Contest where Not Placed: Itch witch glitch or twitch
DATE CONTEST WHERE NA'D WAS JUDGED: 1 Nov.2019
Writing Challenge - December - Any poem NA'd in November 2019
Sponsor, Dear Heart- Wiishkobi Ode
I have a weakness for golden blond hair,
and light shade of blue in mascara eyes,
that new recruit in office next door,
I brushed past her as I came up a floor,
and she is got them, she is got them,
She has bloody got them… all of them!!
four decades into life, still out for a mate,
with a good job, house, a car.. well rich!
that girl next door could be my unscratched itch!
opportunity knocks they say but once,
I have to look at this with a magic lens!
there must be a way I could speak with her,
may be an official call, a business deal?
may be pretend I walked in to wrong office?
may be go and try their brand of coffee?
but a morning came when God had better plans,
Walking to my door who should I see waiting there?
the golden blond goddess all on her own!!
million gun shots could not have stunned me more,
I smiled to say a happy hello but sounded like Eeyore!
She returned the smile with radiance of sunrise,
And killed me with a surprise handshake - “Hanna”!
I shook her hand, and must have said my name,
Wished shaking hands could be a lifelong game,
but she soon disengaged and said if she could come in?
She was changing jobs and moving to our office!!
God is kind and in his wisdom, He arranges jobs too!
Itches come, and itches go, some high, some low!
but an itch of the heart is hard to reach,
there are no fingers to go deep and scratch!
So my unscratched itch that I bore with fortitude,
would it be resolved? thank His heavenly grace!
We spoke with eyes and professed with our smiles,
All was looking good till the boss spoke one evening,
he was marrying Hanna, and next week was wedding!!
and my unscratched itch? well, it will remain!!
Who said goddess?? that bloody b**ch!!
The Sailors Itch
Beneath a bright Valentine’s Moon
He gave her the gift much too soon
now they’re itchin’ and scratchin’
with off spring a-hatchin’
Those crabs he brought home from Rangoon
John G. Lawless
2/26/2015
A certain itch it’s like no other,
descending as Vesuvious burning
tyre, a nuee ardente of fire
Manouver all you will, to no
sweet avail; it’s your hand
that’s needed, no matter what
audience papers the house
Yes, a magazine or folded coat
can often shield the work required,
but please, no sighs or muted
cries desired
Then good performance must
transpire, to shift the well-placed
hand from view
And when the fire is doused, as such,
and all one’s thoughts removed from
crotch
Reflect on how you saved the day,
with folded coat on nuts in May
A strong pube itch
unmasks a *****.
Volodymyr Knyr
2013
A married couple now scratch the seven-year itch
Their days of wine and roses have waxed and waned
The honeymoon's over. Love, no longer at a fever pitch
A married couple now scratch the seven-year itch
The spark is gone; their chemistry, down the ditch
Though they put up a fight, no ground was gained
A married couple now scratch the seven-year itch
Their days of wine and roses have waxed and waned
BRIAN'S CHOICE 10,any form,any theme
Contest Judged: 5/30/2020 (Winner: 3rd Place)
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Date written and posted: 02/24/2019
Burning knowledge
With each new breath
Licked the sore
Till there was nothing left.
False perception comes in view
To think I was going to marry you.
Adopted a ideology
That I could keep the hollow me
And continue to pursue this plan
After all you said I could come as I am.
Words dance around in the wind
Whispering,
Welcome me to sin.
Darkened road paved with glass
This internal bleeding will slowly pass.
Open wounds scream my name
Oozing out… all this shame.
Hurry quickly! Bandage me.
Before I bleed insanity.
Avalanches of past regrets
All this pity has me wet.
Drowning in this former fame
There must be an award for all this pain.
Golden metal, just for me!
Professing the day you set me free!
Once your breeze
Blows away this disease
I will fall straight to my knees.
Blotches and splotches,
Pink and red
Don't dare scratch:
It'll spread
Treat with loathsome liniments
And soporific pills,
But there's not a real cure:
Must suffer the ills
Watch out for pointy leaves
Grouped together, numbering three
Do your best to avoid it:
Poison ivy—the devil's weed
An itch in my eye
An unbidden thought, startling
Thus tear met finger