Bedbugs Poems | Examples

Heart And Sole Complaint

Tho' they may display legs to best advantage,
observing the constraints, begs the question, 'What's afoot?'

Seems to me I had a bee in my bonnet
about women's proclivities and passion
when compelled to write this pseudo-sonnet
about their footwear fashion.
Some are bonkers barmy as bedbugs, daft, dippy, daffy,
(with) bats in the belfry too,
it's far beyond my reckoning, as I can't fathom,
why they choose to wear the pairs of shoes they do.
And as for a clue, I haven't any, why they own so very many.
With their platforms, pumps, stilettos, wedges, they're tottering on
the edges of insanity, an exercise in futility,
an accident about to happen, one stumble, a tumble then... a calamity.
Seeing them hobble, while their dogs are barking,
these are the words they'd speak, if their feet could talk,
'Cinderella had the right idea, losing her glass slipper,
as oh the pains you put us through when you are wont to walk.
It's no more than torture, a total imposition,
somewhat akin to boots of the Spanish Inquisition.'

Flophouse

     Portraits of hedgehogs on his grimy tiled walls
        Pete did for good taste what heat does for snow balls  

     Though a weird kind of charm lay on his carpeted floor
        Not hedgehogs, but bedbugs as Pete flopped kissed him like whores

Bed Bugs

Bedbugs

If bedbugs want to 
they can suck out the
air pressure in 
airtight chambers.

Freedom Isn't Free

it’s the small things, always,
like a locked door, like silence after 3 a.m.,
no more eyes watching over the sheets I sleep on,
and the laundry, god, the laundry—
clean and mine, folded by my own hands,
no strangers to leave their fingerprints.

freedom smells like soap,
like a shirt worn only by me.
I’ve washed away the bedbugs,
the stench of old compromises.
it’s a lie, the safety they sold me,
but here, alone in this room, I don’t need to buy it.

no alarms, no inspections, no knocks on the door—
just the rhythm of my own breath,
the slap of water on my face
as I stare in the mirror and see
a man who still knows how to stand tall.

they talk of dignity, control,
but it's only found when no one is watching.

Mr Bedbug

Mr bedbug bugs my bed
My bed is bored and bugged
Mr bedbug can't share any part in my bed
My bed is bored and by bedbugs bugged

Mr bedbug plays hide and seek
It loves to bite and hide for me to seek
Mr bedbug comes every night
I sleep awake and seek to fight

It came again to bite and to hide
Tiny and fast and it came with a friend
Angry and pained I rose up to fight
My fingers and spray saw to their end

Mr bedbug bugged my sleep
Mr bedbug lies permanently asleep

Butting Heads with the Bygones

Bygones are again beginning.
Big Nose Kate and Doc Holliday
bang and toss China plates,
bothering my ears with their
blooming Southern inhospitality.

Bedbugs, I never want em,
because they bite in the night
bedsits' in Birmingham Alabama
big red marks on my bum.

Bad dream now
beetles crawling up my legs,
brown ones,
Brobdingnagian bugs.
Bangladeshi late-night dinner
blighted the bathroom a bit.

Bored with these bloody bygones
butterfingers strum banjo blue notes.
Brad Pitt hates that redneck hokey,
but I don't care.

Modest Finanaces

Modest finances 

We're supposed to travel to the Algarve, stay at a posh hotel, and eat at a restaurant that sells African food
on my birthday
So many medical bills coming, an unhealthy thud in our post-box and the tediousness of re-insuring the car to walk in our car-infested town and the lengths to banks and medical facility makes a car 
a must.
Of course, we could go to the Algarve, stay at a doss house, and risk fighting the bedbugs, there have been many French tourists this year.
When the finances are modest, it is not tragic one has to be less craven and do with Coca-Cola. Burgers and hot fries, there is a charm to meeting those who have as little as us, we feel as if we belong 
to the masses and buy a left-wing newspaper.
How wrong we are, the hamburger crowd is not 
interested in who rules their life, all they want 
is a burger, with fries.

Garden Apartment Redemption

I solemnly received my first toilet auger
As if it were a knight’s well-tempered sword.
It meant I’d passed my ninety-day audition,
And seemed to me a suitable reward.

And so began my tenure working maintenance 
In the nasty nitty gritty of a toxic circumstance. 
But I’d scored a small apartment, living duty-free,
So, it was time for starting over’s second chance. 

A thousand plus apartments needed tending.
When a work ticket printed, I called dibs.
Seventy buildings built of brick and dreams.
I was privy to the skivvy in all those skeevy cribs.

I’ve encountered many silent tribal totems:
Hindu murti, Christian chi rho, Muslim script.
But no matter the religion of the trouble call,
For every useful purpose, I came suitably equipped.

There were feral cats, roaches, and bedbugs 
Infesting hoarders’ floorspace wall-to-wall.
I dealt as best I could with the detritus,
But my biggest stress was over-night on-call.

While paying the price of complete independence
I may sometimes have hammered my thumb.
Though I may be a hack in the handyman trade, 
I conducted my final campaign as my army of one.
And I came off a winner.

Putty In Her Hands

I am waiting for my hair to dye
Because I look like a skunk, which I think is amazing
But bothers my first and last husband.

He is clean and neat. Prissy. He likes things done up.
He likes a made bed.
Not me. 
I read that bedbugs cannot survive in an unmade bed.

While I wait I am flinging stupidity down onto pages.
I read them and I think “what am I doing?”
But my muse is encouraging me, and I am putty 
in her hands.

If my hair timing buzzer does not go off pretty soon,
you will know more about me than you ever cared to know.
And I will roll my eyes tomorrow and ask “Why?”

Satire On Human Desires

Barely hung-up tattered rags
Never appear like dead frogs
Neither so should an old lad
Ever behave like bedbugs

Why, flashy car and gowns,
Dominate human desires?
Worn clogs could make them bounce
Utter lures that do expire.

Speak up! Doth utter luxury cruise
The poor man growls like thunder
If skyscraper, whatnot, make fuse
Towers too perish asunder!

You blasted wealth, go rotten!
Creaking furniture will decay
Busty buddies owe the thin nothing
Lucid love the lust delay

Baneful heads beget lashes
Lest fame be empress’ desire
Haughty woods must turn ashes
For faithless soldiers do retire

Naked souls adoring hereafter,
So reap trifling repents?
Against grave hours or thereafter
You dare pay earth revenge?

Wage the celestial war for eternity-
Chase not earth, the vanity

Bothersome Bedbugs

Basically,
     bashful
     brownish
     brazen
     bugs
     besotted
     by
     bubbling
     blood
     browse
     between 
     bedsheets…
     best
     brief:
     better
     banish
     before
     bedtime;
     beware
     body
     bites!

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Contest: Tautogram Poems
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Placed 3rd
© 26th October 2019

Morning Reading

Reading my fridge magnets,
I’m surprised how interesting
the world is
when stamped into rubber decals.
Rome, Ankara, both Buda and Pest.

I watch an oscilloscope between my ears,
the spikes are a sort of travel language
spoken only by bedbugs and vagabonds.

I nod at a graphic depiction
of pelicans bombing Florida.
I remember you and Sarasota.
"Yea," I say, rubbing my chin,
Sarasota is where bedrooms bloom
in the morning light.

I don’t see a magnet for Ohio.
Maybe they sell them in Michigan…

for target practice.

An Old Tramp Fast Asleep

an old tramp fast asleep
on a bench in an empty park
no sounds or visible movements
yet on his worn out clothes
fleas hop and bedbugs and lice crawl

Date written 16th May

Name of Challenge Lind68868

Sponsor Dear Heart Constance

Theme Chosen comparitive thought

I Am the Devil -- Fantasy 101

I am the Devil, alone in my Room
   Redolent of pungent cologne and perfume 

Naked I parade, in front of my mirror
   No leering or catcalls, nothing to fear here

Incantantations I utter, so weird, so strange
   Ha! There's no one around to call ME deranged

I make my way to my bed, a kingly throne
   Where I curl up with my pet rat, telling bedbugs, "Begone!"

Time now to cross-dress: Where's my pitchfork and tutu?!
   My adoring subjects dare not label ME 'Cuckoo!"

Alas, there' begun a steady knock at the door
   It's Mom or it's Dad, unaccustomed to wait... But

"I'M NAKED AS A JAYBIRD, HIGH UP ON A ROCK!" So...

Just one more second, revered elders, while this pistol I load
   ~ As I prepare to return to my fiery abode...

Bacteria and Viruses Feed On Our Foolishness

Indecision and weakness, selfishness and recklessness
Invade our personalities and sap from our souls stamina
When fleas, lice and bedbugs feed on our foolishness
Panel beating us flat and horizontal into the lamina

Mosquitoes, leeches, bacteria, plasmodia and viruses our bodies incapacitate
Leaving our mangy bodies vulnerable
As though we inadvertently chose to precipitate
Crises and conundrums that disable

Our broken bodies
Blowing them first left next right
When high energy eddies
Steal and peel our birthright

When fellow sinners despite their burdens
Join us in solidarity
As we fumble, grumble and stumble in the sorrow gardens
Where hypocrites look down on the majority

Communicate without speaking
Wincing at the sorrows they wish they knew
Quitting from burdens of life and quaking
Would render us inferior to the shrew

Who despite her smaller size put up a brave show
To grant us comfort and support
As we dodge the low blow
Fate strikes in a determined effort us from life to export and deport.

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