"tickly" poems
We walk along the beach at night,
Arms entwined and hearts entwined,
Waves lapping 'gainst our feet,
Pebbles scurrying like sand ***** 'twixt our toes.
Talking about ***** we are both
A little tickly in the naughty bits department,
As the gentle summer breeze
Wafts through our matted ***** hairs.
Just a brief hour or two ago,
We were strangers at the Pier disco,
And now our histories are to be
Inextricably linked by fate.
I do not know that, in a month or so,
I shall need to send you
A little yellow contact slip
From the Margate Hospital special clinic
Informing that you have been exposed to
A most unpleasant social disease
Which, with a bit of rotten luck,
Could easily rot your insides.
But, for now, our thoughts are far away
As we laugh and joke together
In our new found post-coital,
Youthful lovers' camaraderie,
Not wanting to speak too loudly or disturb
The copulating pair by the nearby breakwater
(Not that they'd be put off by a thunderclap
Seeing as how he's on the short strokes by now).
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 12:19 PM UTC
Fiery sun glimmered
From mornig till noon.
Then it drizzled all night
When came watery moon.
Environment was conducive,
Soaked and sunned was mud.
Mystical & magical moment!
Came into bieng tickly bud.
But something went wrong,
Frail being never bloomed.
Scarce water or poor light ?
Bud wilted and was doomed.
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 12:51 PM UTC
Something subliminal
in the way a man smells;
his odor, his pheromones,
his testosterone seeping from under his skin
massaging my nasal passages
making me dreamy and sleepy
and tickly inside.
There's a unique quality
so pure and primitive
in the movement of a muscle
accidental
not for show
so private, the tension in a bicep.
It acts without the knowledge of being watched
and would move if no eye were there to witness,
but sometimes
we do
and we see the knobs of strength pulled tightly under skin,
dying to burst through flesh
and reveal masculinity to the sun.
Some kind of trivial beauty in the sweat on a face
after a long day outside
building a fence
cutting grass
tackling an opponent;
the liquid rolls down limbs
out of pores
drips
onto ground, nourishing the grass,
enticing
a nectar caused by labor and struggle,
grunts and power
energy.
Something so simple
in the sight of a male,
sturdy, like a house
a home to be enveloped in,
protected from the elements trying to rust our joints.
The testosterone fuels the movements, the thoughts,
and desires.
May 16, 2012
May 16, 2012 at 6:11 PM UTC
The Tickly Monster's coming
To tickle you off to bed
He'll tickle you on your tummy
He'll tickle you on your head
He'll tickle you on your tosies
He'll tickle you on your thumb
And when his tickling's finished
He'll say that its just begun
Jan 23, 2012
Jan 23, 2012 at 4:02 AM UTC
Trickle down
Rain rainy rain
Trickle poppers
Slippery membrane.
Slippy tickly beard
Prickly pear hair.
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 11:40 AM UTC
There was once a little speckled cat, with orange eyes and a silky hat. He lives in a dustbin at the end of the street where he eats pink luncheon meat. His best friend is a grey dormouse with a long tail and his neighbour; a colourful garden snail. He sits and twitches his tickly whiskers all day, drinking peppermint tea from a tiny tray and eating yellow fish from a little dish. On the weekends he plays football with street dogs and tag with green frogs. Before bed he counts each star and strums a little tune on his brown guitar. He’s everyone’s favourite speckled cat, with golden red fur and a silky hat – can you imagine that?
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 5:38 AM UTC
@First Movement
Flash blue, breezes and gentle touches where he is her favourite dancer.
Twitchy tickly itchy movement, likewise violin trembled string
Autumn arrives with butterfly wings. He is a dancer. Fainted @
Noon sun ray. He says “Hi… Give me a Five”
Shine or silver, day to day. It all turns to grey.
@Second Movement
Life in a day where there are knots in every skein. The moment of whispering
And the surprise gifts of the Year. Look. Rains and showers flushed into her skirt.
Autumn lands with a giant painting brush. She is a painter. Arrayed in
Gold and red, twirling canvas panels with leaves upon her ankles.
Their intense autumnal melancholy embittered
@Third Movement
life wonders’ bedroom window. Of oscillating thread
that winds between the living and the living we thought were dead.
Autumn falls with hymn choral from spider’s web. He and she reunions
Soul to soul, pole to pole with blesses with increase and life,
They are gross and simple creatures, jointly servant of the Will.
Aug 26, 2021
Aug 26, 2021 at 11:30 PM UTC
though strictly Fermi, and oh...(en Rico) plus sun
dre other parvenues, a rapture
surges thru me,
when audibly communicating, enunciating,
and speaking English words
as if hi ken run
a marathon, or zip to the moon,
(take as cheesy tong in cheek)
from this pun
gent, who relishes reading for my eyes and ears
asper myself, which purported nun
sense ink reese sees learn'n
den earn an award,
especially wash'n black board
den breathing intelligent dust
from eraser head could awk cord,
I utter Hieronymus Bosch, bing enamored,
and aye actually confess
tubby a model United Nations chimp
pan zee, and/or other
type of survey monkey hook can huff ford
Old Rotten Gotham horde
sliding down into the behavioral sink...
exclaiming "oh me jack lord"
and getting rescued then getting less on,
sans get'n taut how (muss elf George Eliot)
tubby comb moored
flossed, milled, and taut
tubby trained for Operation Ready Date
by a coop pull oof oot standing chap,
named Adam West, who poured
salty epithets (reminding me, as they roared
that life iz brutal, short and nasty),
part tickly ne'r the end
wharf hew scored
and majority got de toured
until emotionally, physically,
and spiritually enlightened
By Rabindranath Tagore and Burt Ward.
Mar 16, 2018
Mar 16, 2018 at 2:11 AM UTC
She spoke up in class
"Just why does this work?"
Peers giggled, such a nerd
wondering about things with her mind and her thoughts
"Good question," frazzled teacher replies
students make ****** jokes about student and frizzy-bearded teacher.
She couldn't get a guy her own age
her coldness gave males de-rections
but not the teacher, oh no
he loved her.
After classes, late at night
the two would walk the campus watching stars watching them
smiling, those stars giving the two permission to hold hands and give shy glances
darkness allowing the two to feel tickly inside and not feel guilt.
"This works like anything else: simply, once practiced enough."
Boys in the back row roll eyes, take notes, try to ignore the big-brained girl and her too-old boyfriend.
"Why don't you show me, then?" - met with surprise, looks from other students
discomfort rippling throughout the classroom
eyes looking at watches, the clock, cell phones
to decide how much longer the suffering of a publicly performed private romance must last
they weren't stupid kids
they just knew when they knew things
and kept questions to themselves.
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 9:36 PM UTC
You said you aren't tickly
It's all inside the mind
I took it as a challenge
But my heart quickly declined
You took my hand
And sapped my nerve
All at the same time
Invoking me
Imploring me
Our fingers intertwined
You've got me hook and sinker
But it's such a fragile line
Feel it snap
When I'm with you
I get a tickly state of mind
Mar 11, 2019
Mar 11, 2019 at 1:37 AM UTC
Let's have some fun! Let's go to the Gynae!
If you bleed a lot or have a tickly *****
Or if you have more spots down there
Than the walls in your local Indian restaurant
Or if you pong like a smoked salmon sandwich
It's off to the Gynae! Off to the Gynae!
The Gynae will ask a lot of personal questions
But he's not a pervert really (usually)
He's only doing his job but always bear in mind
He chose this specialisation out of many and
You have every right to wonder why
Anyone would ever do such an odd thing...
Strip off your clothes, put on a hospital gown,
(but be suspicious if it has a "see through" rear
or is of the Lithuanian "open crutch" design);
Then relax on an examination table
And hum along to Abba on the Musak,
Then get your feet up on the jolly stirrups.
Now open your legs so that the quack
Can get a total eyeful of your love-crack;
Don't be shy, he's seen hundred like yours
And some in worse condition too (I expect!);
You may ask to cover your feet with a sheet
If you feel they are too smelly for modesty's sake.
On with the surgical gloves, out with the speculum
And a liberal slathering of K-Y
And we're into the good old Gynae action!
Now lie back and enjoy two gloved fingers
Groping you like Crazy Frog on ******
He's hunting for lumps and bumps, yee-ha!
Don't feel embarrassed, oh no, oh no,
Why not ask your boyfriend or hubby
(or girlfriend if you're a hairy ****
To sit in with you for the occasion?
Wow! With a bit of luck, just a little bit,
You might end up with a hot swinging session.
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 1:42 PM UTC
It has been a year
Exactly one year to the day
When we decided to say
I do, again, forever, together.
And never a day goes by
That I don’t try to hold you
And tell you again how much
You mean, your voice, your touch.
The only things that matter
Are these smatterings of moments
Like hugs and kisses good morning
And the same at bedtime at night.
These things are right and the best
Better than all the rest in life
Worth any strife, any price,
Several steps beyond nice
They are what fuels my hopes
And my peaceful dreams.
It seems that sometimes quickly
There are tickly moments to bear
Like a bolt out of somewhere
That must be suffered through
But as I do, there are you
Smiling saying it will pass
And just that fast, it does.
What it was is then a memory
And no longer vexes me
Because what is important is us
And not a sorrow that once was.
So, here is yet another toast
To what matters most, you and I
Learning from what has gone by
And building toward a great future
That is the two of us together
And never a regret that we are
Who we are, not wishing on a star
But accepting and reveling
In what we have now
And happy with how
Things can work out for two
Like me and like you.
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 10:03 PM UTC
Vast dynamic catalysts
inaugurated biochemical
(biological), geological,
and/or meteorological
processes, that didst
wax and wane
since time immemorial
before this "FAKE"
pencil neck geek NOT vain
poet law re:hot bubbled
outa (Compton)
primordial ah stew,
(ward) uber urbane,
sans global Pangea some
bajillion years presaging Ukraine
chiseled terra firmae didst reign
from hydrosphere,
(setting the stage
for Matthew Scott
Harris to markedly twain (train)
his thoughts), wrought variable dramatic,
epochal geographic upheavals
(recorded palimpsest like)
across global terrain
catastrophic, dramatic, epic forces
rendered prehistoric creatures slain
extinction, though billions of years
survived Prince sip
pull purple rain
skill little till lee (skeletally),
within said dam hint
(sediment) permanently preserving
an impress'n quatrain
jam packed with species, some
of which flew like a
donny soaring plane
signaled onset and demise
of supposed pseudonymous
terrible lizards with bulging eyes
"NON FAKE" special effects,
but actual - no lies
wooly alive paw lick
tickly incorrect, tough,
winning ignoble dangerous prize
huge, out of control, trumpeting,
who eve vent chilly gave rise
to Adam Abel bodied
**** sitter ably reduced
cane raising,
(yet most fearsome) size
a totally tubularly err wrecked
primate nada so wise.
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 3:06 AM UTC
Time and again emotional you get.
My dear friend unnecessarily you fret.
Don't give too much stress to heart.
Using brains at times is such an art.
For woman's right you speak and say.
'Equal' doesn't mean 'identical', I say.
Wife became pregnant and you whiled.
Fair man why not you delivered the child.
Behind Veil a woman oppressed you see.
Respected, protected she appears to me.
Freely she walks about to work and study.
Not stereotyped, not just known for body.
Clothes so scanty and no effect on you.
Go to doctor, you are amongst the few
Your body should burn like sun in may;
If you are not impotent, saint or gay.
It is sad, tis man versus woman you think.
Wrong idea, instead both are interlinked.
A woman is like delicate, tickly flower.
Their guardians and protectors men are.
If you think lesser the garb more she is free;
Then oblige me, earnestly I request thee;
Bring your moms and girls in-front of me.
And show me how much they are free.
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 4:53 AM UTC
Its funny how a single notion of you can make my day
Its not as though you ever intend to, or that you even care that you do
But the very idea of you brings such a warm tickly feeling and smile to my face, You’re one of the few things that makes me comfortable being happy
Sometimes I chide myself for being so vulnerable to someone so daring
I catch myself staring, taking in your eyes, your smile,
And most of all that ever-present contagious light that you worry so much is overbearing
It makes it even harder to see when that light dims down
I want to be able to fuel you, in the way that so few can do for you
Forgive me, I’m trying my best
For all the bads, I promise I’ll give you all the good I canYeah
Apr 10, 2019
Apr 10, 2019 at 8:33 AM UTC
reading does, the radio plays
hymnals, sacred sleeping music.
investigated, is it tickly, chesty,
do you seek production,
yes just look how much it costs now,
no, not if you are driving, this one
will not make you drowsy.
neither will you get the top off,
it is 100 percent proofed.
i looked for pins, 20 p a bunch,
a better deal for fixing things,
nicely.
sbm.
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 12:34 AM UTC
Gently part my almost see-through skin with a scalpel
As I watch your trembling hands cut deeper into my torso
Take my bones and open my delicate rib cage without breaking
Where my trapped heart is welcoming worms, beating weakly
And I'll caress your cheeks twitched in disgust by what you see
Rotting mess inside my body, just pull it out and wrap it in a cloth, put it in a jar
Stuff my chest with your pieces, wishes and expectations
Only to be disappointed in me and my love again
For I gently tug at your sleeve and ask in a small voice
If you could make me dead and numb for a while, so I could rest
Because I wasn't born for warm and tickly feelings inside my tummy and chest
For loving in the way romantic books portrait and movies make standard
And I try to laugh it off whenever I don't feel so well from what you've put into me
So you won't scar my ******* but you find out and do the procedure anyway
But I never say anything, though it makes me sad you hate your art
I guess it can't be helped if the person you love is dead no matter how hard you tried
Can you hear my bones softly crying in summer breeze as they're healing
And can you feel my fear whenever your fingers trace my neck
Still continue to pick perfect heart in exchange for mine
That you buried to hide and I dug up without you knowing
“Fixing me” is your explanation, no hint of sorry in your eyes to be seen
But I was never broken in the first place, so what's there to fix in me?
You took me apart, stuffed like a teddy bear and sewn together so I could be torn apart again
Though you're always failing, you keep trying to find a way to make it work
Everytime I see red streams flowing from my wounds you assure it's alright
And that you'll try your best tomorrow to find my love in the Valley of the Dead for I lost it there
But why would you do it if you love me the way you say you do
Why would you put me through the things you put me through
I'm the one to believe my crows when they say that they saw
You tried to **** my heart so there's no going back, happened many times before
But you can't **** anything that's already dead
So keep your so-called necromancy tricks to yourself
If your love really was like necromancy, I wouldn't need a different heart to know
The pureness of another human's feelings they adore me with
That cause my chest to blossom and throat to sing freely
If your love really was like necromancy, I wouldn't feel so cold and barren in my own skin
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 9:52 AM UTC
I feel as though I wade through the sickly gait
of butter
mind cast deep into the sea,
searching for a coast covered in fog
barely able to make out
the craggy blades of rock
of that world I forgot
It is imprisoning,
stuck aboard a cork of reality
suspended above a chasm of inconsequentiality
that dives unfathomable below
into sickly dark secrets of dreams and
excitable interactive equations
that lead me towards some inevitability
Maybe this is the special sauce,
that radioactivity
that racks my skull
pushes me beyond the world
and into the dreamland of poets
"Dream, dream until you sleep,"
but I have so much to see,
someone to meet,
you told me!
Why lie?
Why die!?
Maybe its all unreal
maybe its all a sheen
a fake shear curtain
so thin,
impossible to see
White and fuzzy and tickly
down my spine
my lower back
my spleen
my scrotal sack
its everywhere
and I don't know what you are
God, help me
I am getting angry
devil is taking the wheel
and wants to drive me off a cliff
or into some abyss
of mind
and I want to let it
I want to be normal again
only a week ago
maybe never
but my god when do we ever feel healthy?
I haven't seen a soul I love
in far too many days
sinful attitude pushing me deep into the drift
and current events that carry me
into pools of vengeful rage
Take me out deep
among those glittering distant seas
Guide me into salvation
to comfort beyond sleep
Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 7:56 PM UTC
It came out
All tickly and far
Until people started pointing
And this is exactly why
You don't pick your nose in the car
Nov 26, 2017
Nov 26, 2017 at 10:12 AM UTC
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
Springtime’s Laughing Rhymes
A Merry Little Breeze, an allergen sneeze
Happy little children among the bees
The always fresh challenge to rhyme with moon
Perhaps noon? Spoon? Croon? Loon? Swoon? Bare feet?
Bare feet?
Bare feet! How neat! A grassy-tickly treat!
And Mama calls out, “Now where are your shoes?”
“Oh, we left them in church on the back-row pews!”
“Just wait ‘til I tell your father that news!”
(Giggling)
“And where are your socks?”
“Inside with the clocks!”
“That makes no sense!”
“Gimme three pence!”
A Merry Little Breeze, an allergen sneeze
And beneath the trees a little world at ease
[Merry Little Breezes – cf. Thornton W. Burgess’ Mother West Wind stories]
May 1, 2025
May 1, 2025 at 10:16 AM UTC