Short Prickling Poems

The yellow rose thorns
Clenched tightly between the hands 
Prickling the fingers
Causing to fall sanguine drops
As deluding dream crumbles










2-15-2016...

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Our love is but a chilled shiver from a forgotten breeze,
Stunned neck hairs prickling to the touch.

Our love is but a happy memory,
Sweet to the mind, numb to the tongue.

Our love is a place called home to me,
How far away we’ve traveled from....

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Hay rides and starlit nights
Spooky cresent red tinted moon
Howling and the owl schrieks

Big eyes strain to see where the noise originated
Prickling skin and scary masked raiders
Screams and little feet take flight

To the bonfire and mom's warm arms...

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Maybe it’s the gravity of your eyes 
always pulling me in, 
goosebumps and deja vu prickling;
Nothing matters when I’m with you; 
Electric pull and my pulse jumps;
Try and pry apart attraction 
instead I become more metallic; 
Corralled by the force, you’re magnetic....

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Life and Choices


The best choice
often spun the mind
into a muse mode
of many uncertainties  
Opening a tap
of running doubts
and chilling dread
We tread stealthily
mumbling our faith
even as we are burdened
with this prickling grief
we continue to pace
daring fate to its face...

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CONFETTI

sitting
under prickling stars
twitching
moon weaved wedge
stares then wanes
behind looming gloom
switching
distant dreams fall
like confetti

misty and tarnished
disenchanted
vaporised visions
pearls of passion
pervasive prevailing
like confetti

© Kim van Breda—28 September 2015...

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I have an inkling 
My writing is winking
At me behind my back
Or maybe its just blinking, 
Mindlessly thinking
While wrinkling up
My tiny universe
By tinkering
And intermingling
The real and the false~
I hear a clinking,
A chilling kind of whistling;
What is that stinking prickling 
I can feel bristling 
Up and down my spine?
...

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An emotional overflow 
fire prickling beneath tender skin,
So raw your bound to explode
impossible to take air in;

Blurry eyes seeing double
chills go down your spine,
You're not even safe in your bubble
can't pretend everything is fine;

Hard to believe what's happening 
 slowly starting to drown,
Overwhelmed with everything
Imminent Meltdown....

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Pumpkins smile with glowing light
Guiding the path, through the night
By alleys with swooping bats in flight
Witches cackling, bad apples to bite
Under cobwebs hanging on tight
Ghosts lurking in shadows to fright
Pick and choose your Halloween sight
Prickling fear or sweets in all bright

10/29/21

Entry for Halloween Monorhyme contest.  Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger...

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Cold outside, 
piercing, glacial gloom
Bitter, frosty, frigid, icy-
Cold…
The wind breathes undeniable upheaval;
Murdering the sizzling sun.
Bringing undone 
Cheerful cordial enthusiasm 
To curl with humility upon a heated blanket,
Inside my home.
I spy the condensation on the windows
Haunting horrible cold
Penetrating tooth ache
Prickling goosebumps
Bone chilling
Fear filling
Cold....

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It's raining even when it's not. 

I walk down a path,
A path of few steps.
Steps that lead to a future,
A decided future.
Decided not by me.

As I go along it,
I think I should feel sun,
But all I feel is rain.

I look around and I see none.
But I feel it prickling against my skin.
Hitting me slightly,
But hitting me still.

I'm drowning,
Drowning in it's amounts.

It's raining, even when it's not....

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In swirling mist, I inch along the roads,
There are no passengers aboard the coach;
This is no night for driving heavy loads.
The headlights full to warn of my approach,
My scalp is prickling: wonder what this bodes
(My instincts always prove beyond reproach).
And then dismembered hairy hands appear;
An evil laugh the last thing that I hear…

* based on a local legend

Jack Horne, 24th August, for Nette’s Through the Mist contest...

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You shroud an ache in drips
of wavering replies,
Immersed in memories
of
a futile time

You think in 
twisted inflections of submersed pride,
a swirl of beliefs 
engrossed in avertable rapture
 
You swing around
a fusion of disparate passions
And dictate 
an end that scarcely counts

You call me in
to tie my soul 
And cram your sins 
inside my fractured will

You pin our welded bruises
to prickling discretion
And drive them deep
as if to hide...

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Lonely Dance

the struggle is deep
demanding down in my soul
rushing frustration 

desperate desire 
prickling all over my skin
cold lightening chills
 
pursuit to stay clean
always a futile attempt
I cry out, "No more!"

overwhelmed and awake
many ways, many words come
countless emotions

succumbed to numbness 
the high is a falsity
hides well-being, gone

determination, strong
rocky path of desire fades 
out of the shadows 
...

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grievance of sordid hourglass, ears prickling
                                       — eyes creep aloft creepy mask

his contrition false
                     — skin crawls as if consuming hallucinogens

bad enough, silencing of wrinkled smiles
                                     — the time bomb tic-tic-tic boom

stocks made for buffoons
                    — turkey neck gobbled up progenitor’s gravy



                                      3/4/2021...

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Everyday reciting a silent plea 
my stomach tied in perpetual knots;
Do I do it to myself? Maybe;
It’s been so long that I all but forgot; 

Burning my soul and prickling my eyes 
so intense you echo my mayday; 
Your voice, my exact flavor of paradise 
drowning slow, I blissfully float away; 

Consumed by you and wound into your guitar 
trapped between peace and the pain it brings;
The finish line seems so achingly far
held in the hands of six stinging strings....

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I remember 
	a stubbly cheek prickling my lips,
	a strong hand holding me protectively when I was small.

I remember
	a spanking for eating mud pies,
	hearing stories of when he was young
	lying in the grass under the stars.

I remember
	strong arms wrapped about
	my trembling body, rescuing me.

I remember
	a strong, wise, quiet guide
	always there when I needed him.

I remember
	my father.


Previously Published: Shattered Moonbeams 2016...

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Subsiding,
                           Is that moment of rational deception;
                                             Regaining,
                              Is the desire, that is of my perception;
                                          Releasing,
                         Of my soul,  to the evil I aspire…
                                        Touched,
                                             Once again,
                                    By A Prickling Feeling Within...

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