Bedsheets Poems | Examples

The Silent Kiss

At dawn,  
you graze my face 
tracing my jawline with your thumb to say:
“It’s nice to have someone here for once.”

I should know better than obsessing over men
whose attention doesn’t need begging 
stitching myself into bedsheets 
meant to be left half empty

but I guess you just get me. 

If home is a body,
I already sense aftershocks 
self-inflicted eviction setting in 
slipping away half asleep

dreading the inevitability of leaving.

A High Rain

Yesterday was hot, it nailed
its peeling skin to a desiccated air.

This morning, rain is falling,
but it has yet to land -
a weightbearing sky creaks
though it does not break.

Above straining clouds
a dam has broken, perhaps the deluge will
crush all before it,
but not yet,
earth’s frying pan is lit and smoldering.

The wilting dawn cannot wash its face,
bedsheets smell of damp dogs.
The electric fizz of insects
scratches at our drowsy minds.

If I shift a sweat leached inch
I might tilt the world over a hidden seawall
drowning in the middle
of a dry prayer for rain, or perhaps soon

the light might undress itself
to leap into the clear pools
of our openly grateful eyes.

Folded Promise

She wears rainbows in her almond curls
and paints her eyelids with green swirls.
Her cheeks blush with innocent pearls
Soft as her favourite fruit- strawberries.

Mascara wand in her fingers casts spells on me
her gaze a flicker between play and mystery.
She tangles the bedsheets, 
Spills glitter on pillows,
pouts for the mirror, 
practices smiles and chuckles
All a rehearsal for the girl she will never be.

Because 
Her cradle is still folded like a promise,
she borrows makeup from bags I never packed.
she wears outfits I never choose,
She twirls in mirrors I never hung.

She is my daughter in dreams.
and in dreams they grow like moonlight.

What is Love

Love is the sound of your coffee brewing early in the morning
Love is Autumn leaves forming and falling on a brisk evening
Love is the warmth from the tea mug you savor before bed
Love is wrapping yourself in a towel after a hot bath
Love is flowers blossoming in your front yard garden
Love is switching out your bedsheets to feel refreshed
Love is all your accomplishments
Love is being able to say "I am here."
Love is reminiscing with old high school friends
Love is the sweet sound of your favorite instrument being played

Love is not always a person Love is the littlest things in life that make you smile
You are full of so much love
You are surrounded by love

So please, stop searching for a person to show you the word "love"
Instead, start looking in the mirror
You'll find all the love in the world there

Stale Bread

He starts with the natural order of things,
thinks
wash bedsheets,

been pushing chores aside -
that's just natural.

Done with saccharine,
from now on
teaspoonful of honey
at least until
the year-old jar
stops oozing.

Corn flakes gone stale,
the days fall out of sleep
way sooner than they should,
and that's hard to do - naturally.

Order comes and goes.

Mold grows blue bread
nothing last as long as fungus.

It's the predicable
that catches him unawares.

Nature chugs along,
small birds stop singing by noon,

maybe he forgot to hear them,
natural orders arrange
his face
for all the foreseeable day

then bored with its cosmic game -
leaves him alone.

Saturday Morning

I awoke to the sound of rustling leaves
As the wind murmured its sweet nothings
My window was a canvas of silhouetted trees
And the liquid gold only sunlight brings

The air in my room was warm and still
It coated my throat like dense honey
I breathed in deep ‘til my lungs were filled
With a heaviness so heavenly

If ever the globe has slowed to a halt
It was surely in that sweet moment
When my conscience was unburdened by failure and fault
Raging thoughts rendered blissfully silent

Permitted, for once, to lay myself aside
Neatly on my worn pillow and bedsheets
The core of the earth pulsing, I find
In tandem with my languid heartbeats

I am reminded that, however separate I may feel
From this vast, sprawling universe, my dazzling abode
I’m just the world reminding itself that it’s real
Tasting itself, reading its own code

A Bed's Duty

A Bed’s Duty

I begin your day and end it too,
Decorated by bedsheets and pillows new,
Massage your head till your eyes won't open,
It's harder to do then it's spoken,
A layer of comfort envelopes your mind,
Peace and solitude you will find,
Then one by one as the minutes go by,
My magic will work and dreams will fly!
Wiping worries as you rest,
My pillows defending like a fortress,
And then as I spot the first rays of sun,
I shake you from your sleepy oblivion,
I am the bed and I may be ordinary,
But the duty I do is more than mighty,
I end your day and begin it too,
Decorated by comfort and memories new.

- Indrani Deo

Tornado

wild wind whipping
trees bend and thrash
leaves rudely torn off
gardens trashed

blackening skies
presage the storm
rain drops attack
and hail pellets form

shattering glass
in windows and doors
denting parked cars
as a deluge pours.

dark cloud funnel
from the northwest,
veers as it wanders
at its whim’s behest

sending shingles aloft
people to basements
flooded streets paved
with pieces of casements

bedframes and couches,
bedsheets and books
leaving nothing but rubble
of old neighborhoods


hiding in terror we
hear all the ruckus
and pray the capricious
storm will bend by us.

Ten Ways to Awake in January

You’re a hollow tree, listening
to the tapping claws of am exposed sky.

You sit sideways staring over your shoulder.
A rib cage full of naked troglodytes
looks up into your throat.

Wintery seas leak over ice-bound rooftops.
Bedsheets come to rest as snowdrifts.

You find yourself observing the world
through the top of your head.

You find yourself reading
the pale blue veins on a frozen window.

Roads might be passable. Wind-whales plow through,
pushing insomnia ahead of them.

The cold is a color yet to be decoded,
but you breathe through it, red tongue
slipping through clouds of needles.

You count crow-calls, shiver when they stop.

The passage between you and the chill floor
is umbilical, you may have to bear down.

You skirt the edges of yourself,
until your mind thaws beneath parked cars.

Tainted memory

Your bare form would have the Devils' on their knees.
Your sculpted model makes my heart freeze.
As the sun sets below the fiery horizon,
The inevitable lust in me rises.
As though you were the only star
That could make me forget my scar.
The silk bedsheets haunt my thoughts,
You were the only thing my memories brought.

I Looked For You

I looked for you
You weren’t there

I looked for you
And you weren’t there

I looked back at what started at me
Instantly
Panic consumed me

I looked all over that room for me
In drawers, closets and even under bedsheets

Retracing my steps
I went back
Back through my puberty

I see the you in me
 But who am I truthfully 
My truth keeps eluding me

Don’t push your views into me
Who pushed the world into me
I’m tipping over
It’s only right I feel empty

I looked for you

In all the places you used to hang
Within all the faces you held a gaze
Rummaged through your fits of rage
Asked past lovers
Would they ever love the same

They hadn’t seen you

But recalled the flame 

I called your name

I thought I called your name

A voice so faint

Fragile and strange
Whispered through my soul

I am you… I am change

Rotting In Love

As tears fall
I open my moldered eyes to see myself
Blurred and grotty
I’m beginning to rot now
My skin melting into my bedsheets
Moldy and itching with pests
Am i one of them? 
Am i another eyesore?
Am i as revolting as the blowflies?
I’ll admit that i feel
Repugnant in love
But how can that be so
When i rot for you?
Look at what i’ve done
All for you
I have never hurt so badly
And this time it’s not because
Of the bugs shredding my skin
Burrowing
But because you never left my heart
You were always there
Just another maggot
Burrowed in my flesh

Working the Shadows

Under the cover of daylight, beneath the mill
and hustle of teaming crowds; a need
and a life-grinding poverty
swept her down a wrong way.

She strayed into streets so narrow
entered them as a shadow-less shadow
stayed where rank rooms were rent by the hour
where tussled bedsheets her only ownership.

A small child might have slipped past
the ranks of pot-bellied loungers,
but the pimps were as thin as switch blades
and their eyes scavenged
for any walking flesh.

No one kidnapped her; abused her much,
she was taken by her own weakened self,
nabbed by an ever willing surrender.

Did she come to a dark end?

Only the flickering city lights
at the end of a day
can both ask and answer
that long searched for question.

Awake

Awake, my soul! Awake, harp and lyre! I will awaken the dawn.

Psalm 57:8 NIV 

How marvelous to arise from the bedsheets
to sing, O my soul…to awaken the psaltery.

To awake the strings, those melodic strums
of pleasantry, O my heart…to lighten the dusk.

Wake up, O Dawn, I see you in your glory dress.
Sweet sunlight wipes the stars from your eyes.

Awake! Awake…my glee, I’m a child of the King.
Do not the robins, bluejays, and doves sing for me?

Awake, O my soul! Awake! I hit my beat
as my feet dance in the bedroom street.

10/18/2022

Keep Me Alive

Keep me alive


It is still in the darkness,
With a pillow on my head
Suffocating without breath,
I can smell the alcohol in my neck.

He sits on top of me,
Beating me to death.
Please Lord, spare my life,
My kids still need me,
Let me live another day.

I grab unto the bedsheets,
While he rain the pain on me,
I know that one day I’ll be free.

When he is done doing,
What he does best.
I’ll creep out softly,
To lay on the floor to rest.

Tomorrow is a new day,
To start fresh.



Roebain 
,

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