Best Bedclothes Poems
Friends?
Are we still friends?
Can we JUST be friends?!?
Oh such a horrid, charity-stained question!
What a keen and salient dagger it wields!
The pity that you wear like black lace finery,
Is as deadly and whetted a sword as any raised in battle ...
The patronizing look in your eyes presses on its hilt
With the agonizing weight of feigned cordiality,
To pierce the tender flesh of my hopes,
Deep and quick and precise.
Why ... why this last dose of bitter passion??
To ease your careless conscience?
All you've done is make the blade more jagged,
The wound more brutal and raw.
Now here I lay ...
Exhausted in spirit and sinews,
By what I now realize was lovemaking for clemency's sake ...
One last, tender moment to minimize the blow.
Shards of moonlight through the louvers,
Lay like broken pieces of porcelain on furrowed bedclothes,
As my passions bleed out at your feet,
Draining my heart of the realities
Of what I thought we had ...
What might have been, beyond friendship.
My love for you collects in a puddle of one-sided regrets,
And now this dreadful question makes all a travesty,
A mocking, cruel, pitiful farce ...
No, my love, I can NEVER be just ... your friend.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "My Friend, My Love" Poetry Contest, Julie Leigh Rodeheaver, Judge & Sponsor.
The flames licked my arms
But I did not stir
The spring breeze sent the curtains flying
And the golden rays burst in and set everything afire
The light punched its way into the room
It knocked into the shelves that wept in silence
Book spines instantly faded
Then pages were ablaze, incinerated
It left bruises on the carpet
Whose dust rose up with the breeze
It danced with the fringes on the bedclothes
Making shadows ripple across the empty space before the pillows at my feet
The air sent ripples up my arms
And I gasped at its touch
Curved into the corner of the farthest wall,
I glared at the light seeking me out
It scratched its fingers into every crack and crevice
And fractured against my lonely reflection
Blasting shards of glittering light across the walls
It was sniffing me out
It could smell the darkness on me
Daring to touch my withered skin
Yearning to warm my sunken face
The curtains shifted the shadows on the walls
And finally its eyes befell me
The golden rays found me at last
They clawed through the hair that clung at my face
Stretched forth and stabbed at my eyes
But I clenched them shut in fear I’d go blind with sight
I transformed myself into the wall
Curled up inside its weakened shadow
The golden rays licked at my arms
But I did not stir
The bright flames seared my skin
But I let it burn
The opal anchor clings, clutching, falling,
fetching the lapis lazuli. Mermaids flee,
frightened by the heavy ornament. Fate,
like chain links of Jacob Marley; shaking
of the seabed at the pounding of sin.
Gavel striking like a velociraptor storm.
Sand churns as if Scrooge is turning
in his bedclothes, his premonitory bed.
Sapphire eyes suffer the crashing. Abode
of ponderous tales, predilection of sharp
shadows, darting hither and thither,
reserved for the most heinous of beasts.
“The beast is dead,” speaks Amphitrite
Her children carol, “Ashes, ashes…”
They dare not speak the scathing name
of molest and neglect, mutilated beyond
recognition. His fists forever incarcerated,
His face, food for the scavenger fish.
Mermaids remain innocent of such leers,
never drawing near to earthbound treachery.
The silk sense of security constantly tending
to their flesh. Tails fearlessly splashing.
~ ~ ~
But if anyone causes one of these little ones who believe in Me to stumble, it would be better for him to have a large millstone hung around his neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea.
Matthew 18:6 BSB
The grandfather clock
A grandfather clock sat in pride of place in my childhood home
I would sit at its base and watch the magical movements of the pendulum
I would talk to the clock as if were a close friend
As I grew older our friendship continued
One evening I tossed and turned in bed, sleep eluded tonight
laying there wondering where my dreams will take me tonight
The grandfather clock tic tocks louder tonight
I toss and turn once more is this a dream.
The sound continues, I decide to visit my old friend
Bedclothes tossed aside, stand at the side of my bed
Eyes accustomed to the darkness, the sound continues
I leave my bedroom and stand on a darkened landing
The tick tock invites me to visit
Down the stairs and sit before the grandfather clock
The face looks down at me, I imagine a smile as it recognizes me
It speaks as it has many time before, hello young man
Silence from myself as I struggle to comprehend
Say it as it is I will understand speaks the clock
The clock understands my silent words
It seems to nod and smile I understand
I sit for hours as the clock marks time
My life, my worries my love all pour out
I wake from my dream and realise where I am
Curled in a ball at the feet of the clock
I hear the sounds as the clock chimes the hour
I stand and bow at the wise one before me
A chuckle I hear as I walk back up the stairs
My bedroom, my kingdom, fell into bed and slept for hours
Is there a message in this maybe a poem.
Yes, there is, the thoughts are yours.
Sue’s bedclothes are soaking wet
She lies in a pool of hot sweat
Now what could be the cause …
Is it the menopause?
Her body won’t let her forget!
Sue's face gets bright red and flushed
She pretends it’s because she’s rushed
Her body is changing
She knows she is ageing -
But this subject mustn’t be discussed!
Written for a friend who is having these symptoms - Sue is not her real name!
5th October 2016
nature, storm, boat, clothes, house, water
AWASH AND AWAY! © KIMO
Listen, Katrina will come inland
Katrina has come to play
Playgrounds underwater
Sleepy times put asunder
Bedclothes hung out in tree tops, upended
Held fast in forked boughs
Homesteads beached, broken
Swirl and swell in amongst debris
They become crippled and tainted
A brew of pestilent plagues builds unwanted
It lies in wait to contaminate!
Katrina's force sings out old-time nursery rhymes
To be carried out on the wings of fate
Questing and calling for ownership
On today’s horrific wake!
“ROCK A BYE BABY, IN A TREE TOP, When the wind blows……..”
“BYE BABY BUNTING, DADDY'S GONE AHUNT'N---
To catch a little…….”
“Little Bo-Peep has Lost Her Sheep---
Where or where can she find it”?
“Where, Oh Where has my little dog
gone---”?
“I'LL Huff and Puff and Blow You’re House Down
Not By, ‘The Hair of My Chin-Chin-Chin”!
“Ring around the Rosie,
A Pocket Full Of Posies---
Hush-ah, we all FALL DOWN!”
“Rain, Rain Go Away,
Come Back Another Day!”
"K", My Name Is "K A T R I N A"
And I went INLAND!
"K", My Name Is Also "Killjoy"
I Am Made Of Wind and Water and Sand!
Uh, where's that "PEA GREEN BOAT”?
"K", is for Kettle
AND I BLEW ALL TO KINGDOMCOME!
“TEA FOR TWO….
AND YOU FOR ME!”
"K", is for Kaput
And it was about my Karma!
"HUMPTY DUMPTY sat on a wall,
HUMPTY DUMPTY" had a great fall---
AND ALL THE KINGS HORSES, AND.....?”
"K", is also for Kindred Waters
And I am vast
You were the KINGPIN
‘KEYSTONES’ NOW LIE IN MY WAKE!
“KNICKY, KNICKY 9 DOORS-“
“COME OUT, COME OUT WHEREVER YOU ARE?”
“LAST ONE OUT IS A DIRTY ROTTEN EGG?”
I double dare you to tread again
“Rover, Rover you can’t come over!”
“STEP ON A CRACK AND YOU BREAK YOUR ‘MUDDERS’ BACK!”
“Itsy Bitsy Spider
Went Up the Water Spout-
Down Came the Rain,
And Washed The Spider Out....
Out Came the Sun and Dried Up All the ‘Pain’
“ITSY BITSY SPIDER
WENT UP THE SPOUT AGAIN!”
....didee© Verse
Memories of long gone school summer holidays
Far away from the gates of hell
bulling and Malay.
Six long weeks of freedom that seemed a year
staying in bed not having to get up at eight
descent food and not pig squill on your plate
Children's morning TV
cartoons and Robinson Crusoe
adrift at sea.
Going for long walks in the countryside
with my mates
Rolling down hills
staying out until it was dark and late
making buttercups and daisy chains
singing pop songs down the lane
going on day trips
Playing kiss and tell
Down by the sewage works
oh boy did it smell
Going to the youth club
Wednesday night
the girls looked and smelled pretty
and sometimes there was a fight.
Camping out all night in a tent
Out riding our bicycles
the chains coming off the wheels got bent
The time when the fair came around
and we'd rode the dodgems
and the waltzer than spun you around.
The sweets and treats that we'd eat
the games of football on the street
The first fumbled nervous kiss
of first love
sleepless nights sweetheart missed
the back row of the cinema
Reading comics under the bedclothes
with a torch at night
dreams of adventure and heroics
until the morning light.
Oh what fun before the return to hell
I recall everything and the smell.
Peter Dome.copyright.2013. Dec.
party's
The smell of pine fills the air
Tis a sign that Christmas is near
No other smell can compair
Except one fragrance strong in here.
With bedclothes on we gather around
One by one is handed out
By mother's lovely eyes so brown
A threaded needle comes about.
First we are told we must string
We must finish before we can eat
While Christmas carols we do sing
Sometimes one of us would cheat.
Stringing popcorn is always a tradition
At our house, it's decorations on the tree
Now we have our mother's permission
To fill our tummys as full as can be.
Jan. 4, 2014
Contest~~A Child's Christmas~~
Sunrise is nearing but everything has remained
still, not even the birds have burst into song.
The sky is a mixture of colours but most are
slowly fading into the well-known blue.
A slight breeze has been born, it makes the
trees and bushes flutter their leaves like wings.
Still I remain stuck in this horrendous bed where
I am seen as an invalid where pity is bestowed upon.
Many faces may project smiles but they are
truly nothing for they are false and unwanted;
pity is a poisonous gift that no-one wants to own.
Still I remain glued under these bedclothes that hide
the horror that has possessed my once radiant skin.
I have been burnt beyond recognition, nothing remains
except memories of my once natural beauty; untarnished
by the elements of age.
Tears are worthless for they will never erase what has
become of me for I feel ugly and monstrous then yet
people still look at me as though I am my normal self.
But disgust is overshadowed by pity, I feel I shall
shatter a mirror if I peer into the depths of the glass.
The sun has now risen, it hangs in the sky like a
angel’s halo; life has now begun to stir, creatures
of all shapes and forms are set free.
They seem to roam the land untouched by the evils of
life then yet here I lay burnt beyond recognition
with nothing but sourness and spite for company.
My soul has been scarred by fire, the very element
that gave life a home when the Earth was young.
Still here I lay burnt beyond recognition but grateful to
be alive.
I left the pub one night in a bit of a tizzy
and saw some kind of being like a tin lizzie.
This turned out to be a polite alligator
now on probation for having eaten a waiter.
The police left it tied to a street lamp, it seemed.
It looked so kind. how its joyful face beamed.
It spoke perfect English, quoted Terence and Horace.
I was surprised to learn that its first name was Boris.
"In life,' it confided. 'whatever you do,
apologize profusely and past failures rue.
Then proclaim calmly the past to be past.
Now is the time to move on at last.'
Its sudden jerk made me lose grip of its leash ,
before attacking an old person whom it ate like a quiche.
"I just couldn't resist, so please don't tell the cops,'
it said, tears in eyes. while licking its chops.
The loss of that gentleman causes me pain.
I promise sincerely not to do that again.'
Then two irate policemen appeared on the scene.
One was fat and the other was lean.
Boris polished them off at remarkable speed.
To discourage this act no plea could succeed.
I wagged a finger to show disapproval
at such a violent and hasty removal.
'I am so sorry,' said Boris 'That's the last time
I shall ever commit such a base crime.
As I said before, it's time to move on.
The past is past. what's gone has gone.'
Who then should appear but Lord James Murray,
whom Boris devoured in rather a hurry.
'Boris,' I cried. 'That's enough. I'm perplexed.'
'In that case,' said Boris, you are the next.'
I ran like a hare for all I was worth
as never I ran from the day of my birth.
I got to my home, rushed in, locked the door.
I hid under the bedclothes, struck to the core.
What a hangover I had on the following day.
I saw no sign of Boris, I'm so glad to say.
I retired gracefully, happily, knowing I could never be fully completely replaced even to this day.
I was slick, photographic, revered by so many, loved by a few, heavy, a bit conceited but in a good way.
Diligent children hid me in boots, closets, drawers, or moldy piles of black and white laundry where I rarely had to stay.
I came out in the early 1900’s, evolved so well I didn’t recognize myself by 1959, my heyday.
I was routinely hidden under bedclothes, mattresses or pillows; contraband, peeked at by flashlight.
I belonged to the whole family, but whoever found me first hid me well; I was never shared outright.
My captor would slide me out silently, hoping their siblings would not discover me and start a fight.
I was the prize of the month, the trophy of the hour, the coveted, revered, brightest of the bright.
Brothers and sisters fought each other to pull me out of their rural mailboxes to hide me under the couch.
Coveted, cherished, loved, revered; fought over, fawned over, poured over; I was never ever like a slouch.
I was thrilled that I was circled, starred, torn up, folded, figures were written all over me, and it caused a little ouch.
A big part of Sears, and Christmas too, I brought dreams, hopes, and anticipated joys, causing more than one wage earner to grouch.
I remember seeing a concrete pillar that dwarfed me,
I remember my eyes hurt because the sun was so bright,
I remember feeling the heat from the pavement reach my face,
I remember scribbling loads of woollen balls on my copybook in the classroom,
I remember my mother say to the nun “Well he is four now”,
I remember playing with a red and cream plastic toy in bed because I was sick,
I remember the nun wrapping my brother’s faeces in newspaper
and sending me home with it to give to my mother,
I remember kicking my legs under the bedclothes because it was Christmas Eve,
I remember seeing a ghost outside my bedroom door,
I remember waking up in agony seconds after I was run over by a car on the street,
I remember first falling in love with the young nurse in the hospital; I was nine,
I remember loving going to the dentist because it meant a day off school,
I remember believing that Indians were going to attack my uncle’s farmhouse,
I remember thinking cows were my aunts,
I remember seeing my mother naked,
I remember the way my father looked at me as he entered the room,
I remember crying because my mother said no,
I remember being lost in Galway,
I remember being found by my mother and she laughed and stroked my hair,
I remember my granny going into town and coming back with a silver gun for me,
I remember my father hitting me,
I remember serving mass and feeling important,
I remember the granny nun, who used to let me sit on her knee,
I remember being afraid of my teacher,
I remember my first lie,
I remember the lie was about sins I never committed but I admitted them to satisfy the
priest,
I remember my real sins, like stealing money from my mothers jar,
I remember feeling that I was a bad person,
I remember feeling ugly,
I remember feeling dirty,
I remember feeling hope secretly,
I remember planning to run away with my brother,
I remember promising to myself that I will never forget,
Memories matter.
[Guitar instrumental intro]
I feel just like tinder
whenever you are around
you get to your sparking
and embers form around
I can't help but start glowing
you set me all on fire
you know it too those embers are for you
you set my world on fire
[Chorus]
Combustible!
but only for you
How did you turn my world upside down?
Keep me up all night long!
Combustible!
You sear me with your kiss
I am eager for your glances
and hang on every word
[Verse 2]
And when we get behind closed doors
and we are on a page
I am afraid the bedclothes suffer
the housekeepers deserve a wage
We barely eat
We barely sleep
We are at it again
Like twin flame throwers amen !
[Chorus]
Combustible!
We burn down the house
We don't see anyone else
The world fades away
and you steal my breath away
I can't help but start glowing
you set me all on fire
you know it too those embers are for you
you set my world on fire
[Chorus]
Combustible!
But only for you
How did you turn my world upside down?
Keep me up all night long!
[Guitar Solo]
And when we get behind closed doors
and we are on a page
I am afraid the bedclothes suffer
the housekeepers deserve a wage
We barely eat
We barely sleep
We are at it again
Like twin flame throwers amen !
[Chorus]
Combustible!
We burn down the house
We don't see anyone else
The world fades away
and you steal my breath away
[Outro]
Memories appear like the first drops of rain
Who are you, this is driving me insane
Faces familiar do not match with names
Sit upright in bed, memories circling
Leave me alone I need to sleep
Laughter, no pity keep me awake instead
Room starts to spin, feeling unwell
Familiar voices without recognition
Guide me away from all these premonitions
Adventures start, impossible scenes
Scenery not known, let me out of here
Silence, as I once again sit up in bed
The kind of silence that makes its own sounds
I get out of bed and walk the room
Feeling unwell from all this action
My own voice makes me aware
Aware of what, the question is asked
Who asked the question, certainly not me
Back in my bed it is now the witching hour
Every move I make the scene re-runs
I want to cry out my voice deserts me
Throw of the bedclothes, need some air
Something or someone touched me for sure
Help, help, cries go unanswered
That silence, once again so quiet
static, erratic, am I dead?
The spinning increases, my head ready to explode
First rays of daylight enter my room
Thank goodness, mornings, no gloom
Coffee awaits, not too soon.
I saw red reflecting off flakes of snow;
as I stared out my window on tiptoe.
And I'm pretty sure I saw Rudolph's nose:
though it could have been a plane, I suppose.
I couldn't see his sleigh amidst the shadows:
but I knew that Santa Claus always shows.
And then, I heard bells jiggling, and I froze:
I'm spying on Santa; what if he knows?
I flew across the room in my bedclothes:
and closing my eyes, I pretend to doze.
What happened next, I can't rightly disclose:
let's just say spying's best left to the pros.