Short Bristles Poems

sharp sickles pierce trunk
frosty mail bristles crackles
lucent shield retracts 



(Ice Sickles)...

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Who strives for Excellence
  bristles at anything less

Who accepts Mediocrity
  settles for irrelevance...

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Bristles on a brush in paint 
Stroke pictures of your love 
Be filled with colors quaint 
To pastel your hearts; thereof...

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Father Christmas had a great beard
But now this is where it got weird
So hidden in his bristles
Were several tin whistles
Well, hidden until he was sheared...

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The driving rain falls

                        like bristles of a old comb,

                                                         till chills consume me......

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post
         impressions
obsess
the scene
                yellow
cataracts
colour
           bristles
synthesise
in twisting
                   twirls
to console
a troubled
                    mind...

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~Love In The Soft Breeze~

Thyn Soft Contentment, Leaves Me for the Love
Of Friends'. I Wish so much that thyn bristles
Fore What Thyn Friendships I Hope for, come nearer.
As Thyn swift thoughts, Mellow in the Breeze,
Which comes back, But thy contentment, for Love....

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It fits in your palm
like flesh, 
its firm plastic handle
the color of his skin.
Its bristles tingle
your scalp,
pass through your hair,
your tresses
like fingers of a lover.
Remember how he eased 
that new word 
across his lips: golden
tresses, giving you
the beauty of your hair....

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Plain droplets plink downward risk-free.
Rain, that bristles on panes, weighty.
Rip-roaring, soaring, not boring,
as wind assists an outpouring.
Angled and claustrophobic dance.
Can’t see the light; cars take a stance.
Sky, a blue-gray, wiper flip-flops.
Shy, the soft pelts of ho-hum drops.
...

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Rhyme - Halloween Horror

Her hair sizzles — stands on ends like the bristles of a broom.
The witch deserved it after her cheeky tricks and treats — a tart!
With flaming eyes of a jack-o’-lantern who’s been burned — the groom.

10/28/2018
Three Lines Writing Challenge
Sponsor - Dear Heart A.K.A. Broken Wings...

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Blue feathered beauty
of stained glass design
your song in the wind 
is a whir and a whine.
Impatient and weary 
of limbs swept and bare,
you tighten your grip 
to unbosom a jeer
or bob from your perch
to rattle a cry
that bristles the crest 
of a soul mate nearby.

February 12, 2019
Songbird Poetry Contest...

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C-rimson sun up above
L-ights up the Tuesday; 
A-fter Monday night is gone, 
R-aindrops fade away.
I-t's a beautiful birthday, 
S-eventh February morn; 
S-hadows have vanished, 
A-nother woman is born.

G-irl with hair or bristles, 
U-pper lip has in a flash; 
R-apture is truly brought, 
O-ne lady wears a mustache....

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The blue clamminess of the bus night light
languishes over the interior
seats dissolve into background
background dissolves into sky
which dissolves within my eye
The chattering window bristles my attention
Neon trails of passing
night dwellers sprint past
Reflected glass me
sighs in unison
and looks at me as if i don't belong...

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As I run through the bristles of the trees
The pain gets worse as I collapse on my knees
Growing fur and fangs
I hear rattling chains
The hunt has begun
I'm still not sure if I have won
Something is near I have to get down
Pouncing silent I tackle him to ground
I speak to him the last words he will know
I am Waya Sado, the Wolf Shadow......

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Put me through the 
french knots. I am 
under the gaze of 
a jilted lover.

A freeze melts in 
the rainbow. The dew 
sits on the eyebrows 
of the grass.

The spark splits 
between the shadows. 
Someone has hanged 
himself from the window.

There was no life left 
in the stump. Now 
bristles will not stand 
at ancient sites.


Satish Verma...

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Sometimes its bottled up
And hidden deep inside
I have no friend beside my paint brush
I have no life beyond these blank pages
my brushes,
my pen,my blank pages
Are all that i have
Every inch of power
Every kilogram of strength
Lies  within these bristles 
Beyond the borders of these pages
lies nothing related to me
If I step outside them
I become suicidal...

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ITTY BITTY SONG

Snip snip red hair
A pretty pretty long
Snip snip auburn light
While I sing this
Itty bitty song

Reveals a pale moon
So round o round
It reflects the pool
O round howdy hum
I hardly hear a sound

Thistles and cordial bristles
Grow out and downward
Flow in red sea waves
With an itch and a scratch
From side to sideward

Kim Rodrigues ©2017...

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My Symbiotic, Parasitic Self
How long have we lived here
Amongst each other
Sea like faces
Can’t help but catch a few
They glide so fast
Slippery and slick
From melted candle smoke 
How blessed are these
Bristles black stone 
Backbone
Heart as icy as tips of flames
Have to have a bit of both
Sucking on this planets life source
Is only a dream to some
The birthright of scum
Alone I stand...

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No Rush

Hair brush through my hair, no rush.
The wrinkles will not slow, but time
slows on the satiny pillow, in throes.
The bed softly creaks as our eyes speak.
They do not stare as the fire sparks.
Familiar lips brush tender flesh, kindling
the oneness, the forever afterness.
The rush of internal flames combust
followed by serenity of tousled hair.
No rush to run bristles through my locks.
...

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I used to miss your touch, now your hands feel like claws

I used to melt in your stare, now your eyes come with bristles

I used to miss your shag and plaits, now you wear a tail of a horse

I used to miss a natural shape, now your curves are created by a dose

I used to miss your call of my name, now you sound like Americanos and Angles

Tell me if I’m stuck in history, lagging behind as the Homo Sapien evolves...

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Tiny dishes on my palette
filled with a rainbow of colors
that I meticulously mixed;
arranged like a row of flowers
that I’ll use to paint her portrait.
Cadmium yellow for her hair;
white and yellow ochre create
her flesh tone; perhaps if I dare
a dab of cadmium red.
Cadmium deep red for her lips;
perhaps a lighter shade instead.
Cerulean blue for her eyes;
and like a statue she will pose
while my paint laden bristles flow....

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The sky was infused with an abnormal moon 
It was so large showing off a great white light
The whiteness carries on causing one to swoon
Casting dark shadows off the trees in the night
There is a white candle in an upstairs room
That illuminates the bristles of a broom
Somewhere the occupant loves to fly on by
Leaves a blazing white trail within the night sky

Russell Sivey

Entrant into Anthony Slauson's "Whiteness" contest

10/4/2012...

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There are times when we wished to bid our pain goodbye,
Times we wished to mop dry our tears,
Times we wanted to overcome our fears,
Times we hoped to live our dreams,
More than once did we hope for fantastic times,
But alas!
Life gave the lemons and demons,
Bile from vile plants,
And beds riddled with nestles and bristles,
And food spewing with worms and flies,
But again,
At the end of the tunnel,
Is a shimmer of light,
That offers hope for a new sight....

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Charcoal brush adorning sparkling bristles of love
weaves patterns on canvas of blank memory
flashing waves entrancing visions of kisses alight
blankets of amnesia in existence but he paints
hustling vintage platform emerging from mists
breeze in lover's red shirt chasing scarlet sunsets
he boards a crimson wagon longing for a goodbye



June 21, 2020

ON BROADWAY Poetry Contest
Sponsor: nette onclaud
Title: As If We Never Said Goodbye
~Winner: 4th Place...

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Rising from oblivion,
Sol sears the fringes of night.
And gilds the edge of the Earth,
with His chariot ablaze.

Searing tongues of crimson flame
lick a scarlet horizon.
And the shadows of darkness
disperse with the birth of dawn.

A star-studded ebony
morphs into a sky of blue.
And the cotton-candy clouds
acquire a light pinkish hue.

Color untangles from black;
as shadows reclaim their shape.
And a lone pine, bristles, with
needles of emerald green....

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