Short Prickle Poems

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....

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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...

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I don't think I'm too fickle;
it should be kind of brickle-
without a nasty prickle
and just a bit of trickle.
My fancy, it should tickle;
goes well with pumpernickel.
If you can guess- earn nickel!
Believe me, I won't stickle-
my favored snack's a pickle!


February 17, 2020...

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The air is thick and sweet
with the promise of spring rain,
and a slight breeze nips at a 
lock of my hair, 
coaxing it out of its neat bun.
The cool prickle of raindrops 
on my skin is familiar,
and I watch as the droplets
on my arm get caught in a maze
of hair follicles before slipping
off toward the ground
beneath me....

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Startled awake to ideas
of missions to be fulfilled urgently.
Plans prickle in my veins.

Eager, I jump, awakened. Mind runs
fast trains, I can’t keep up.
Looking down on this I see a

dizzy whirlwind of colour and shapes.
The trains will run until they burn out in fires aflame.
We’re unsure where to place the blame. 

God oppresses reproach....

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A desolate disposition
Remarkably remote
A silent, nagging tension
A prickle in my throat 

A heavy hearted sorrow
Debilitating weights
A fear for each tomorrow
The trials that may await

Isolated troubles
Breed in solitude
Keeping safe, my bubble
Has become the thing I do

No one will ever know me
I’m acting all the time
It sure gets awful lonely
Beneath these lies of mine...

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Haiku 52
	
	
	cocoons under leaves
	split open, new wings drying
	white butterflies flit


	white butterflies flit
	brilliant yellow squash blossoms
	zucchini to share


	white butterflies flit 
	tomato flowers await
	cool summer salad


	white butterflies flit
	tiny cucumbers prickle
	winter’s dill pickles


	white butterflies, gone
	eggs now hidden beneath leaves
	for next spring’s cocoons...

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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....

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The snow crunches under my toes.
I feel like Frosty, wrapped up and poofy yet bitterly cold.
Cracking ice, frozen breath, my nose turns a painful pink.
I scoop up snow without gloves,
To examine each individuality...
My life-long curiousity with Wilson A. Bently's science.
My fingers tighten and prickle with cold,
so I follow animal tracks home.
I, bundled and cheerful,
Amble home from the frost to the hearth....

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Goose bumps prickle my arm,
My hands clench,
And stomach wrenches inside,
I can't breathe,
Or hide.

A rapid heartbeat thumps away,
Sweat is forming,
Eyes so strongly fixated,
I need help,
To late.

The urges take over my actions,
I start clawing,
All over an imperfect body,
I feel trapped,
Can't relax

Tears are pouring from my eyes,
I lose control,
Arms are so red and hot,
Leave me alone,
Cant stop,...

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A shaft of sunshine
streams magnolia clouds
glides a vacant village
streaks a patchwork meadow
and warms textured straw bales 
wrapped in harvest light.

Milk laden cows 
graze on clover fields
as sheep stud high heather hills.

Sprinting brambles prickle
surrounding hedgerows
swollen with purple fleshy fruits.

Song birds
bolt from oak to sycamore
hurling melodies
blossoming the breeze
on a lily light afternoon....

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It sits in the corner
Out of reach, Unmoving
Yet still provokes a knot in my stomach

It's over there, I'm over here
It's tiny, and I am huge
Yet still the prickle of goosebumps on my arms

I fetch a cup and a piece of card
But when I bravely return, it's gone
Playing hide and seek with my anxieties

A moments peace before my brain insists 'Where'
Followed by an evening of twitching at shadows
Deep down I know it will be back

Dreading the inevitable...

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Our silence is what hurts the 
most
i can hear the whispers of your 
gohst

pretending not to hear the 
truth
when all you showed me was 
proof

hold my hand, whisper in  my 
ear
tell me i have nothing left to 
fear

that prickle that thorne
to which you have sworne

youd never do
how could you

now these tears come 
streaming down my face
i thought id finally found my 
place

youre smile was not at its best
in your heart i was just a 
guest...

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