Heaven is not the word to awaken,
with lemon balm sprig bristle in each lung,
a staunch loam-ridden citrus bouquet,
in an urban copse of dulcet twittering tone,
avian wrens in sweet floral flute glaze,
whose madrigal a charmed chestnut chime,
vast tree canopy quiver note suspense,
clam shell ear tilt of mine to absorb,
scattered mint fragrant leaf strewn carpet,
pale grey glisten brittle branch snap I twig,
rain soak mud clump squelch quaint echo,
still morning usher draped in lambent haze,
teaser trickle stream tucked away a prickle,
deep purple rose bush as dawn shelter,
grass blade tuft flicker on rimmed bypath,
breathless so I am amidst lavish terrain,
spellbound, captivated, eye transfixed,
by clement backcloth to a city in slumber,
indigo blue signpost embossed bold cue,
for empyrean trope as shrewd street élan,
mural chalk mark swirl from deft artist,
gourmet menu flair neath parasol,
overwhelmed, stunned, air passage empty,
yet my first blush stroll sun vital tonic
I don’t want to miss a touch,
denial would be too much.
Sensual salvation sweeps,
your prickle on my skin creeps.
The argument of silence, absonant,
hammers into the pliant mind it’s hard
nails of craving.—a spirit thusly marred
will yield to any prickle, every scant
pressure to give in.—once the foreign implant
is firmly riveted, a brain so jarred
can no longer trust its levies to guard
its thoughts against the inner, speechless “can’t”.
Quietudes disturb the peace of silent
folk, pounding its forceful will upon their backs.
When, going unfulfilled, a lurching tic
tickles the unstilled ego, its violent
lashes thrash harsh whips in frequent attacks
on the tender flesh of a crooked back.
A while ago,—you seemed a fantasy—
and like a fragmentary apparition
or a flutter flitting past my faint cognition
—to my buzzing thoughts: you the rose, I the bee.
And though my hiving mind, admittedly,
swarmed all around a phony superstition,
(you—o’ flower), yet,—(and, malintution?
aside;)—you roused in me the gayest glee.
Now, you go as a prickle—as the sting
of a hard thorn, each every random while,
and seek to nib my nose, or pique my eye.—
Well, since convention bars my asking “why?”,
I’ll try to win another petal’s smile;
—though, must you be the blossom of my spring?
shy bloom
fearless blossom
sweet smell tasty rose hips
soft petals bract leaves prickle stem
beauty
That tepid tea, civility,
Is not the drink for such as me!
Thou cusp, thou nib, thou pricket, prickle, tang and tine!
Thy wit lacks width to grasp my line!
In the corner of the room, you slyly creep,
With your two cents ready, promises to keep,
A dime-store detective, prying in my space,
You're such a penny hoe, you never leave a trace.
Whispered conversations, you twist and you weave,
Like a spider in the shadows, never wanting to leave,
Why not rub those two cents together with glee,
And let that gossip churn like a stormy sea?
With a wink and a smirk, you dive right in,
Making sense of stories that you'd never been in,
Your curiosity's boundless, a relentless itch,
Oh, darling, you’re such a nosy little witch!
Why not take a step back, let the silence breathe?
Instead of peeking over, like a thief in the leaves,
Every little secret you prickle and pry,
Painting tales on the canvas of night’s quiet sky.
So here's to the moments when you choose to refrain,
To hold back those cents, stop pouring out your rain,
Just for a second, let my life be my dance,
And spare us the drama, give peace a chance.
2024
Colorful hopper skips along with a song
His plaid trousers stretched big and long
Grasses see him coming along their way
His knees prickle them a bit, just part of their day
He is unconcerned about world affairs and such.
Ukraine and Iran mean as little to him as Double Dutch
I watch him merrily dancing along, enjoying his day
Wishing I could be so globally unaware on this unhappy Friday.
How can someone so small
Maneuver a beast so big
Intimidated by task ahead
She sits behind the wheel
...and drives
Every moment on the road
Sounds and creaks emerge
Obstacles surround, on every side
She must quickly diverge
...the path
When darkness comes
She shivers and quakes with fear
Heightened senses prickle and poke
Something, unknown, sinister, is near
...to see
Hidden, hidden, every freaking thing is hidden
Why can't life be out front
Dealing with reeling, unfolding the molding
Matter is in the manifold shunt
...pushing power
To bend TRUTH
Written by Trudy Schrader on 11-29-2023
It came in with ice cream and half empty sunscreen
And went out with goosebumps and “EEK!” Halloween
That autumnal breeze and the fire in the trees
Gave way to demons and trembly knees
Leaves all relinquished their sure Summer grip
Fluttering down they would duck, dive and dip
To settle in russet hues there on the ground
But eddy and flit as the breeze whipped around
And by Halloween with the ground full of leaves
There’s zombies and ghouls in whom no-one believes
Well maybe the numbskulls who worship the night
But then monster lovers were never that bright
That late autumn day there was warmth in the air
I sat ’gainst a tree and I slumbered right there
Twas All Hallows’ Eve but why would I care
No fancy dress demon would give me a scare
I’ll suffer no grief from some worn out tradition
I’ll scoff at the undead and show no contrition
No werewolf nor vampire would make my skin prickle
Well... not til the leaf monster gave me a tickle!
Spooky Ghostly Halloween
the sky looks like velveteen.
Wild loud howls, nowhere to be seen,
echo through of the wolverine.
The citrine moon hangs, high,
a wicked smile, cunning, and sly.
In a blink of a dominant eye
bats chase the clouds across the sky.
Eerie, Pumpkin Head quite brickle,
waving its sharp rusty sickle.
Haunting nightmares hairs prickle
as crows fickle blood caw, caw trickle.
In the old manor her ghostly spirit
appears roaming through it. Do you see it?
10/17/2023
Were I a rose -
I would model graciously -
Oblige those of wise choice
And prickle my enemy;
If just a blade of grass -
I would blend in - nonchalant -
And peoplewatch as they pass
With no desire to flaunt.
I will enjoy life.
I will enjoy the peace it brings me,
and learn from the lessons it has taught me.
I will let the wind blow through my hair,
let me eyes gaze up the Sun and it's watercolours.
I will continue to let me ears relish in every subtle and soft symphony there is,
and let me skin prickle in reaction to the cold every time.
Just this once, I will let my life slow down,
I will let every emotion pass through me and come at once. While I will welcome each with a tight embrace.
And I shall pause, and turn my head back to see just how far I've gotten, while also appreciating how far I've still yet to do. I will remember every hopeless and hopeful time I had, and be grateful for all.
I will enjoy my life. Enjoy it while I can.
Fish flesh ceiling marinades evening in mandarin
Paprika streaks Alaskan sky, an exploded pumpkin
Garish stretch marks bruise tumid buttocks
Jack-o'-lantern flicker silhouettes summits
Door open draught steers me over masts, a compass
North chill Turmeric tingle bitterness burns sun jus
Snuffs frail wick candle into cavern skull sockets
Frigid fuselage discarded from flamboyant firey rocket
Hulls doubled on calm harbour curl fetal forget me not
Petal precious postcard sends rocking sleep to yachts
Resistant pristine peaks poke holes blood gush painful
Ski slid accident on apex restores pale flesh to angel
Pressed panes mist to witness her wings in awe, glory!
Nest of pick up sticks prickle, due dusk warns me
Crept shadows of chalets' thatched porches protect
Navy as battle ships torn apart, needle inks inject
So and Sew
I sew
it’s so
So Fine
nimble
thimble
Lost Pattern
quilted
wilted
Chain Stitch
lost link
pants sink
Running Stitch
pants torn
forlorn
Stitch in Time
mended
splendid
Long Stitch
I sew
so slow
Prickle
needle
bleedle
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.