Best Bedtimes Poems
i am here to let your words make love to me
i am here to bury my face deep in your poetry
to let your haiku
molest my naked body
shake me like a tree
can you read the want in my hips
for your metaphors and similes?
like an African lion in heat i long your letters
how they hug tightly only to entice my desire.
the child in me wants to explore, journey tender the skin
you wear. so don't leave me to play alone in the sandbox.
let me run the body of your work free.
ingest your verse and also grow wings.
you and i flying as one in a mad fancy.
then maybe send in my bed sheets - both single
with your personifications they'll jump rope
and after exercising go for a cup of hope
at the outdoor cafe where poets mingle
i am only here because your couplets are wooing me.
i want to glide - baby oil - body on body - chummy.
not compete but instead
massage your triolets,
fraternize with your sonnets.
your tanka rocks me
mountains baby smooth to climb
it's quite the challenge
one i'm willing to take on
you're the baby smooth i want
i'll ride your majestic rhymes
dream they'll settle for,
this my smiling core,
stay with me at bedtimes.
you - the poetess that defines my nights
i want you to know i climb every evening
towards the peak where your words spike.
i'll never be the poet you are, but
i have my hands and other parts
that could drive you to ecstasy.
.........you'll see it's my specialty.
01~01~2015
Armand
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
Contest Name: First poem of 2015
A Mother’s Love
She rises with the morning sun,
And starts her day out on the run;
When afternoon, the clock strikes one,
Her day has only just begun;
Why even when she’s having fun,
A Mother’s work is never done!
Her love is given one-to-one,
To ev’ry daughter, ev’ry son;
For even when she’s ninety-one,
A Mother’s love shan’t be undone.
Through all her joys, and all her tears,
For all her dreams, and all her fears,
Through all her days, through all the years,
Her children’s hearts, a Mother hears.
Sweet lullabies, and nursery rhymes,
She sings and reads at their bedtimes,
She kisses knees that made tree climbs,
And kisses cheeks a thousand times.
She teaches first what’s right from wrong,
She builds in them a spine that’s strong.
She scolds them when they tell a lie,
Provides strong faith which to rely.
When cupid’s arrow first flies by,
She comforts when things go awry,
She counsels each child not to cry,
But give it one more worthy try.
And when at last from nest they fly,
She gives her bittersweet good-bye.
The bond between them reassures,
A Mother’s love always endures.
And though a Mother’s work ends not,
It’s through her love what she has wrought;
Into this world each child she’s brought;
Each doctor, lawyer, astronaut;
Not ever has one once forgot,
They owe to Mom all that they’ve got!
Disjointed beings beg the questions – still
an ashen horse delivers what is owed.
Decisions kneel before compassion’s will,
to stop and help a turtle cross the road.
To comfort one another, brings them home,
confides the mornings, bedtimes now alone.
Concentric dreams preserve the lost to roam
among the ash and fields of sculptured stone.
From every foolish quest, those wasted years,
of mercy - time denies the rich and poor.
Whatever left, upon regrets and tears,
behind the coffins, curtains of velour.
Receive his blood the only way across,
eternal rock we trust in Savior’s Cross.
-----------------------------------------------------
Contest: Death
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Written: 10.20.17
Form: English Sonnet
Now I lay me down to sleep
Mother prodded bedtimes as I lay
nodding finger twirls of small hair lock
donuts until I spoke them
myself
we prayed together
eye to eye heart
to heart two to God
I learned the words first afraid
awed so she would whisper-sing Hush
little baby don’t you cry
I learned prayed alone
prayers of
desperate pleas earnest assurance devotion we
old age smiles mother’s comfort taught
learned I pray
acceptance
peace
Now I lay me down to sleep
Loss (2/11/2014)
It is a stone that cannot be lifted
Planted into the earth of the soul.
Buried under the cat that he drove over
Pressing it into the ground in the ridges of the tractor tire.
And the jungle gym of his arm that I swung under
Long hair, laughing.
And tongue sandwiches, hard-boiled eggs, an old apple
Brought in a brown bag to the field at noon.
Shouts and a broken plate, his fist to my face.
And his hands under his head folded in worry.
The girl he loved was getting away.
A single red rose in a small crystal vase
on her concrete steps.
Talking on the green couch downstairs of the past
Of the future.
And the letters from San Francisco,
The letters from Carolina,
The letters from Japan,
Begging for baked goods and promises not to enlist.
The launch off the rope swing into the Missouri,
Profanities screamed over the current into the bright sky.
The stick to Harley’s leg for one more day.
Sneaking out my bedroom window
Drinking a bottle of rum in the tent in the front yard
In a marijuana haze.
My white dress, dancing, his blue and gold uniform,
My manicured nails in his hands and his head over my shoulder
Tears on my back.
And the new girl who wore her own white dress.
And his eyes reflected in his sons
Tiny pieces of him in his arms.
His voice so gentle, so close to them.
Jumping and screaming, laughing bedtimes,
Children being thrown upside down
Tickles and goodnights in the nightlight
The darkness in the windows waiting.
Cold beers on the front porch,
The hum of the crickets call
To the moon.
Dirt on a stone,
Dirt on a stone.
The macrocosm of
the unquiet mind
Shines brightly in
poetically timed lines
Deep thoughts go
swirling
spinning into rhymes
Intelligence is found
writing with chimes
Inspiration is
sought in
dreamy bedtimes
Sleeping apon ways
painted
canvases primed
Vividly wonderous
masterpieces
That last
until
we end our time
School was out,
vacation touched our gate,
long days,bedtimes late;
time,routinee we relegate
Bird nesting,climbing trees,
building dens,adults unseen,
picnics and make-believe;
imagination-filled dreams
Unsupervised,wandering free,
adventures sans boundary,
no cares,no chores;
natural boyhood to the core
23/4/11 inspired by red'n'ritten's series of childhood
reminiscences
She is my daughter too,
What don’t you understand you shrew.
I was there when she was made,
Remember between your legs I laid.
We planned her birth,
Do you not realise to me her worth.
For that moment of pleasure,
To consummate for our treasure.
I was there throughout her growth,
Although you stole Time from us both.
Loved spending time with me,
I loved spending time with she.
You insisted on bedtimes with her,
I tried my best to spend time but didn’t stir.
I worked every day to bring money,
You did nothing but spent, my honey.
I came home from work, but nobody there,
I asked you later but all I got was an evil stare.
I cooked every night, to feed us,
You ate well and started to look like a bus.
Of course I was blamed,
I cooked but you ate, I was framed.
The little time afforded me with my daughter,
Was between meals and bathing in water.
Night daddy she would say at sleep time,
An hour from me was spent in crime.
Making contact with your “friends” on mobile,
This was a lie I now know, how noble.
I go to bed just after eight,
You never joined me till late,
I got up at four,
You never joined me for sure.
I made you tea and said goodbye,
Home again to an empty house, you were sly.
Two years and half apart,
At least a divorce is now the start.
Soon now we are over,
I just hope you enjoy your life with your new lover.
I will spend much more time,
With “our” daughter now six and it’s no longer a crime.
8/01/2016
O The King is coming back again!
Will you be ready to meet with Him!
O The King is coming back again!
Meet with Him in the middle of
The cloudy sky! If you are among
All of those who remain alive!
O What if you are fast asleep inside
Your graves! And have your names
Written in the Lamb's Book of Life!
From before the foundation of the
World that all of you once were in!
You shall indeed become the very
First to arise up from all of your
Graves! Only than will those of
Us who are alive and remain!
Will be gathered together to
Meet with you in the middle of
The cloudy Sky! And we shall
Meet with our beloved Bride Groom,
None other than our blessed redeemer!
Who is our beloved Lord Jesus Christ!
The only truth author and our source of
All of ours free gifts of everlasting life!
When the roll is called up yonder we
Will most definitely all be there! Who
Are the ransomed sons and daughters
Of Jesus Christ! And we accepted His
Free gifts of our everlasting lives! He
Will be transporting us to our heavenly
Paradises! In the House of our Lord!
For He has been absent from this
Earth for the longest times now and
We still expect Him to return for all
Of beloved children any moment of
The morning, the noon time, the
Evening time and our bedtimes! He
Shall come for us in the twinkling of
Eye and so shall be forever in the
Presence of our Lord Jesus Christ!
Because He has set us all free from
All of our sins! We shall not perish!
more latter on 6/03/22
If I could love thee in a thousand ways
The warmth of the sun's rays on chilly climes
Refreshingly cool breeze on humid days
As the soothing music during bedtimes
Your safe shelter amidst torrential rain
Limitless such as the deep blue ocean
A blazing wildfire that is out of rein
A serenading lover in motion
Fervour of the river to meet the sea
Butterflies drawn to colourful flowers
Dancing on a moonlit night, you and me
Nature’s resurrection after showers
Love is a kaleidoscope of colours
Beloved’s portrait in watercolours
I’m from dirt roads, and crackling fires,
from long drives, and happy lives.
I am from family dinners and fantasy grinners,
I come from raw beginners and flawed winners.
I’m from where the dusk of evening approaches and streets lights flicker alive
I come from chore deadlines and unfair bedtimes,
I’m from hair bows and scraped knees.
I come from hard workers and brave supporters.
I am from those moments of serenity,
and those of complexity.
I am from sweet tea and sweet Jesus.
From long drives, and happy lives,
I come from family roots and muddy boots.
Mere words cannot express
The depths of my respect
And how I mourn the fact that he's not here.
His open, honest smile,
His friendly country style,
Of course his voice and music keep him near.
As kids, on Thursday nights,
My dad turned down the lights
And by a roaring fire we'd sing his songs.
I've such dear memories...
We'd sing to his LP's
Until, at last, our bedtimes came along.
Oh, how those songs inspired
And lifted my heart higher
Each time my mundane life would drag me down.
And truly I believe
It cannot be just me
Who wishes that he could still be around.
So, here's to Brother John!
He's never really gone
As long as somewhere someone shares his songs!
He was one of the best
So may his soul be blessed!
His many fans will keep his mem'ry strong.
Farcical fancies,
Woodland rhymes,
These are not just
For bedtimes!
Farcical fancies,
Wait and see;
You’ll repeat them
Back to me!
—————
Woodpecker, really,
Won’t you hush!
By now, aren’t your
Brains all mush?
Woodpecker, silly,
Watch your head!
If I did that,
I’d be dead!
—————
Polliwog, Bullfrog,
Here’s a joke
It’s so bad,
You’ll want to croak!
Polliwog, Bullfrog
Deep, deep voice:
Burping flies;
He’s got no choice!
—————
Squirrely Tree Rat
In that tree,
Why you looking
Down at me?
Squirrely Tree Rat,
He rebuts
Accusations
That he’s nuts!
—————
Tadpole, thrashing
In the bog.
All grown up now,
You’re a frog!
Froggy, ribbiting
Never stops.
Come too close,
Away he hops!
—————
Armadillo,
He’s all that:
Cross between a
Tank and rat!
Armadillo,
Eating grubs,
Always messing
Up my shrubs!
—————
Turtle, tortoise,
Slowly roams
Wherever he goes,
Right at home!
Turtle, tortoise,
I can’t tell;
Scared and hiding
In your shell!
————
Coney, Bunny
Best beware:
Old Coyote’s
Lurking there!
Coney, Bunny,
Coyote’s there!
Hide the brush,
He likes your hare!
----------
Slippery, slimy
Snail’s so slow
Need a car ride?
Yes, car, go!
Seek and find
The slimy snail.
He can’t hide;
He leaves a trail!
—————
Sleeps all day,
The wise old owl,
Nighttime comes,
He’s on the prowl.
Little field mouse,
Brown and cute.
Owl is coming;
Time to scoot!
—————
Earthworm rain dance,
Wiggle, shout!
Best take cover,
Sun is out!
Night, night, crawler
Never learns.
Robin’s early;
Gets the worm!
—————
Red and wobbly,
Spotted fawn
Scampering
Across the lawn!
Hears a noise,
Trouble knows;
Back to mother
Quick, she goes!
—————
Old Man Crow struts,
Shouts caw! caw!
Tells the world
About what he saw.
Old Man Crow,
Word to the wise:
Caws because he’s
Full of lies!
When bedtimes comes, we do not moan or cry.
Do our parents know what we are up to?
Under a blanket, my siblings and I -
we’re reading a book, and it is brand new!
Do our parents know what we are up to?
With little light, we’re up late into night.
We’re reading a book, and it is brand new.
How we love good stories. They’re our delight.
With little light, we’re up late into night -
under a blanket , my siblings and I.
How we love good stories. They’re our delight.
When bedtime comes, we do not moan or cry.
June 5, 2021
For Eve Roper's Pantoum Rhyme Poetry Contest
based on picture #3
Soaring in the air, a murder of crows goes by.
Calling ahead, crows are truly sly.
Leaving behind only riddles and rhymes
Sneaking away, haunting bedtimes.
Crows rhyme and reason,
Change with the season.
Crows are such a mystery,
But that is crows history.