Best Waterbed Poems
Wearing clothes to bed simply makes no sense
I must float freely on my waterbed
But when I wake in the morning, I’m tense
Wrinkles from the sheets on my skin imbed
Rolling out of bed, I lower my head
All of my windows and blinds are open
Crawling, I fear neighbors might see butt skin
A snake, I slither in my birthday suit
Trying to avoid boob sighting again
And the tattoo that sits on my “patoot”
I made a mistake reaching for my robe
The rack fell down hard, landing on me
Here I lay thinking my world’s out of whack
I struggle but there’s no way to get free
My Life Alert bracelet rang out quickly
No success grabbing a sheet from the bed
The rescuers arrived in warp-speed time
To find a nude lady well past her prime
Face down, the tattoo was now in full view
Explaining what happened, I’d quite a time
*Entry for Cyndi’s “Birthday Suit” contest
April 24, 2012
Drip
Drop
Water drop cascades under sapphire afterglow
Undoing 4 month deprivations
Muffled moans surround crimson fireplace
Crackling of fire
Thrusts of skin
Retinal vibrations shutter her pilot light deep within
She ascended to blue moon heights
As embers of his inferno
Bow in collective unison
Maddening grips
His fingertips draw triangular markings
Hugging curvature’s hip
Gentle bites on lower lip
He tackles her wanton hands against waterbed foundations
Her strengthened pupils reach out for 3rd eye clarity.
She asks for his dance under aggressive whisper
As he dips
Inside
Slow motion Salsa bends of her will
She crosses legs marking “X” against his spot
His relinquished hands
Slalom her vocal chords toward accentuated heavens
He exorcised her trembling inner thighs
From collapsing octaves
With eloquent, muted exhales
His hand reaches her cheek
His mouth descending towards her breast
“My lady, put that lighter down,
Let me be your cigarette.”
Drip
Drop
©11/19/2013
A Scorcher for Charlotte's contest. (Update: Tied for 2nd place. Nice!)
The idea behind this poem came from reading a poem of the same title, written by Richard “Canadian Man-god” Lamoureux. Now, his poem went in an entirely powerful, yet other, direction than I thought it was going to go. I happily let him know that. So, he decided to have me touch upon where I thought he was going with his poem.
Some people really need to be careful what they ask for… ;-)
On an 8pm, Louisiana dream
Tastes of nocturnal, July humidity
Succumbs flagrant passions
With moistened grip, they tease
Coltrane whispers annihilate tense exhales
Under concave moon
She threw Mr. So and So onto Pacific Ocean’s waterbed
As if she was a professional baseball pitcher
Down
The
Middle
His exuberance would shatter sound’s tattered walls.
Slow grinds
Chemical reactionary bliss
Similar to Neutron bombs
Minus the consequences
Her tailored skin
Ready for gripped, enigmatic resolutions
But, first,
She had to “freshen up”
“You’re already being fresh, don’t stop on my account”,
He says with Monday mourning frustration
As cedar scented bathroom door shuts with determined patience,
And running water with a mix of Celine Dion hums from her trained throat
He stands to gather his thoughts…
…until his eyes exit stage right towards her opened travel bag
A pair of satin boxers & edible, Cotton Candy hand-cuffs from Target
With a signed, perfumed gift tag,
“Can’t wait for tomorrow, Mr. Such and Such,
-Love, your Hedonistic dream”
As running water came to serenity’s halt,
She exited restroom with shedding curves.
Her strut became dislocated,
As she stared into his trembling pupils
Wiping the cotton coating from his lips
“Too bad you couldn’t chew your way out of this one”,
The other half of the handcuffs smeared in cursive signature
Against yellow-gold gift tag he hands her with unedited closure
With striking slams against Louisiana hotel door
Parallel to Mother Nature’s thunderous clap
He exits stage left
Giving almost-lover
A proverbial slap
©Drake J. Eszes
.
Soft flame flutters gently before surrendering to darkness
A wealth of golden glow
Your mind has been captured by dreams, pirates of the imagination
Controlling your activity
One circle of gray light fades through the arch windows
You become spotlight bright
And I study your eyes as they dash
Through never-ever real land
Are you racing, trying to catch the runaway unicorn?
Steady, boy, this is your fantasy; let the legend come to you
Garnish him with a crimson saddle
And canter across hills of sweet poppies
Your yellow-brick road need not bear lions
Unless you wish to be their king
A color-splashed vision
Enhanced by your chestnut mane
And so you roll, and our waterbed rolls wave-like with you
Lions and unicorns dwell not within the sea
So they vanish
Creating a tiny subconscious wrinkle of memory
Your fingers tighten, clinging to your raft
Tossed by the tides and waves
But Pan flutes from the banks’ hanging cliff
The turbulence subsides; you float smoothly o’er open sea
So you mellow your mood and follow your eyes
Up, up, it glares but does not burn
For the sun cannot hurt dreamer’s eyes
Unless you let it
Stare as it slowly sinks to a spectral sunset
That becomes a rainbow because you see it that way
And your raft is now a craft, thirty feet, steel-plated
Sprouting rings of purple smoke and wings of green feathers
Your chariot, my lean and softly-lit friend,
Chases the sun across the sky to find your pot of gold
When the soft flame flutters gently
Before surrendering to darkness
Soft flame flutters gently before surrendering to darkness
wealth of golden glow.
Your mind has been captured by dreams, pirates of the imagination
controlling your activity.
Crescent of gray light fades through the arch windows;
you become spotlight bright!
I study your eyes as they dash
through never-ever real land.
Are you racing, trying to catch the runaway unicorn?
Steady, boy, this is your fantasy; let the legend come to you.
Garnish him with a crimson saddle,
canter across hills of sweet poppies.
Your yellow-brick road need not bear lions,
unless you wish to be their king --
color-splashed vision,
enhanced by your chestnut mane.
You roll; our waterbed rolls wave-like with you.
lions and unicorns dwell not within the sea;
they vanish,
creating a tiny subconscious wrinkle of memory.
Your fingers tighten, clinging to your raft,
tossed by the tides and waves.
Pan flutes from the bank's hanging cliff --
turbulence subsides; you float smoothly o’er open sea.
So you mellow your mood, follow your eyes
up, up, it glares but does not burn.
Sun cannot hurt a dreamer’s eyes
unless you let it.
Stare as it slowly sinks to a spectral sunset
that becomes a rainbow -- because you see it that way!
Your raft is now a craft, thirty feet, steel-plated,
sprouting rings of purple smoke and wings of green feathers.
Your chariot, my lean and softly-lit friend,
chases the sun across the sky to find your pot of gold,
when the soft flame flutters gently
before surrendering to darkness.
*Entry for the "Dream On" Contest
As i lay here in my waterbed
Many thoughts enter my head
Wish my mum hadnt garlic for tea
Making me cry and raise my knee
I hope my life will be full of fun
Laughter and tears for me her son
With parents who'll guide me to do whats right
Not blindfold me , teaching me to be trite
Teach me right from wrong, manners do pay
A hug and a kiss will go a long way
Want to grow up Noble and proud
Pride in oneself and in my world
Meanwhile i wait, waiting for the time
When after a long journey will meet, mother of mine
Hope she will love me! my eyes only for her
My smile of satisfaction! my waiting is over
Am all warm again as i lay in the bed
Wrapped up tightly with a tum for my head
Dreaming of life as I am sure it will be
Full of wonder and knowledge, for me
I have a ridiculously large head,
I think I’d opt for a smaller one instead.
Oh, sure, you say that it suits me fine,
That’s because yours isn’t near as big as mine.
I bet that it weights at least thirty pounds,
It looks even bigger than it sounds.
When I lay it down on my waterbed,
A tsunami rises so my wife has said.
When I go to try on winter hats,
The clerk gives me ones with ventilation slats,
That way when it’s not on sitting my dome,
It can be used as a guest room for my home.
My giant head is entirely too big,
Someday archeologists will venture on dig,
They’ll think that I came from the highland,
On the west end of Easter Island.
Little kids stare up at my noggin,
They think it could be used for a toboggan.
Or a shed to hold random hodgepodge,
That clutters things up in their dad’s garage.
Don’t tell me that it’s due to my intellect,
It makes your judgment sound suspect.
It’s because my brain is fashioned like a brick,
And my skull is so very, very thick.
Bring out your white, bring out your red,
Bring out the grapevine's daughter,
Enough to fill a waterbed,
We'll drink it down like water,
Pour it cold, pour it cool,
Pour it a little hotter,
Fill the glass - the golden rule,
Sobriety to slaughter.
Like rivers flowing with the tide,
Wine to soak the blotter,
Wine to fill the oceans wide,
Wine to drink like water.
Toast your sainted mother sure,
And toast your alma mater,
Pick up a wee dram o' the pure,
And down the hatch like water.
Whiskey smooth as ermine pelt,
Or mayhap that of otter,
Here me lad, let's have a belt,
We'll take it down like water.
If you want a hearty brew,
Then I will be your spotter,
Quite a lineup will ensue,
We'll pound 'em down like water.
Leaning on a beggar's crutch,
The merest rabble squatter,
With glass in hand I thirst as much,
As any kingly yachter.
Whether 'tis crystal with golden rim,
Or clay from the local potter,
Fill that bad boy right to the brim,
Then it gets my imprimatur.
Set the bottles, and set me a glass,
I'll mow them down like excess fodder.
Nectar of the gods or cuvée crass,
I'll knock it back like water.
The thirsty man with teetotaling wife,
'Twon't be long before he's fought her,
Serve the liquid love, avoid the strife,
He'll drink it down like water.
Scheme to take my booze away,
Ye righteous little plotter,
Ye may pay, and ye may pray,
But it's going down like water.
I'll slug it back - the sweet, the dry,
Enough to weave and totter,
Tomorrow I'll wake thirsty, aye,
And probably need some water.
my emotions are caught up
somewhere between here and there
your real intentions have been brought up
somewhere between fear and scare
sadness and disappointment drips off
the definition of unexpected
i resisted the temptation of greater queens
because i thought you were the greatest
my emotions are caught up
somewhere between here and there
your real intentions have been brought up
somewhere between fear and scare
my source of proper rest is now a
waterbed full of salty sour tears
i let so many wonderful personalities pass me by
because i thought yours was the most wonderfullest
my emotions are caught up
somewhere between here and there
your real intentions have been brought up
somewhere between fear and scare
my brain is at a place where my body
is a mere antonym in passing
i bang my head against the wall of regret
like i have three wishes from a brick genie
my emotions are caught up
somewhere between here and there
your real intentions have been brought up
somewhere between fear and scare
now i must go on with this crazily
cryptic feeling like i was some sort of weird pawn
the experience of it all directly effects my everyday walk
like i now have one leg shorter than the other with the world spinning
my emotions are caught up
somewhere between here and there
i wonder where your mind was with this elaborate scheme you thought up
perhaps somewhere with your brain drenched with beer and bare
You are blameless to not swim,
Where water is ingenuously cool,
Too cool for fish to frolic,
Whoever heard of a Procrustean waterbed?
I am taking swimming lessons at the J.C.C.,
From Pasternak and Yevtushenko.
Cool water with cool air generates no breeze,
Calm as a dish.
The pen is mightier than the sword,
And even works as a good oar,
When there is no wind,
And sails luff.
© Chaim Wilson
Omni-pre-sent
Are we yearning to remember
Are we learning to forget
Living in the mind
shows we're not there yet
Are we earning to remember
Are we turning to regret
The present past
knows we carry the debt
along the line that is cast
beyond the moment
Not meant to last
beyond the movement
that is here and now
Free from imprisonment
Infinite presence
trapped in time
We give our consent
We dwell to fill the void with an event
We fail to feel the abyss we invent
Nature abhors a vacuum
Imagination adorns the room
or a new flesh suit
Degradation takes root
Assimilation or annihilation
A simulation of creation
A spiral unwinds
Energy powered by intent
of our mind-created emotion
that spins the wheel
into dualistic motion
Earth bound
or heavens sent
in opposite directions
As Above
So Below
Omni-connections affect the flow
where we direct our attention
We Will to grow
Be still to know
Be in warm fluid
between the high and the low
Balanced achieved in combinations
of harmonic partnerships
Creating beautiful illustrations
in loving relationships
Giving and receiving light
We are as day as we are night
Equilibrium
We are shadows cast out of sight
from a magical medium
You and I are truly seen
by the unveiled eye
behind the shielded screen
Hand-in-hand
Letting go to understand
the mind trapped in the brain
The opening of a dormant gland
to descend or ascend the insane
in the body of humanity
Primal instincts of depravity
SET free
DNA activated by Scalar technology
to hijack the host
Father
Son
Holy Ghost
From beneath your feet
to above your head
BE aware in the present
Wake-up in your waterbed
Reclaim your divinity
Know you are truly able
Don't name your sovereignty
with a man-you-fractured label
Find your own way in the dark
until you see another spark
that helps illuminate the path
to the Higher Self within
You lose
'I' win.
David Moule/Verso (15/10/14)
This story was relayed to me......
Was there magic in those rainbow lights...
Shining on that bar room floor
'Cause last night something turned one beer
Into seven more!
Well...I got home just a little late
And I couldn't find my keys
I thought it was mighty nice of her.....
To open the door for me
And there she stood.......
Well she talked about my mother...
And then cussed me again
But I was bound and determined
To pitch my two cents in
With macho words like Why? and Don't!
And Oh baby....Please
I stood up to that woman!!
On my knees
Well that old couch was concrete hard
Since our waterbed was so smooth
'Thought I'd go upstairs and see
If she was in a better mood
So I knocked on our bedroom door
'Said honey I just can't sleep
'Thought it was mighty nice of her
To open up for me
And THERE she stood.....
Well she talked about my mother...
And then cussed me again
But I was bound and determined
To pitch my two cents in
With macho words like Why? and Don't!
And oh baby Please!!
I stood up to that woman!!
On my knees
Protected by copyright
and a sleepless night
All rights are HERS
The clown 's nose
is big and red
To reach the mass's mind he tiptoes
He lies down on his waterbed
The beach leaks , I hear the noise
of the water passing underneath ;he fled
the lies ain't white but the brown toys
we are the ted bears, silently within we bled
the clown's deliberatly to chose
the best audience who would clap
to him, as the growing Pinoccio nose
became a dwelling to the little birds who rap
his lies,swelling the number of birds who lose
their voice to sing, the wing to flap
the nose regularly grows
the spring is to come , the woody nose would chap
“Hi, hi, how are ya?” Bowser seemed to say
When Jake came home from work each day
Work went fine, but when Jake stepped inside
He turned from Doc Jekyll to Mr. Hyde
Clean laundry was scattered about the floor
Silk curtains weren’t hanging anymore
The lid on his crock pot had been removed
All over the pot roast Bowser had drooled
Paw prints left scratches on the toilet seat
Holes in his waterbed doused the torn sheet
Jake had lost women because of the stench
Of dirty old dog in the couch entrenched
And hairs that stuck to black, sexy attire
Had proved a sure way to quench gals’ desire
Poor Jake had now reached the end of his rope
Unforgiving, he no longer could cope
The dog had been bored, but that’s no excuse
He’d caused more havoc than a herd of moose
Jake stayed calm, Bowser didn’t hear him grouse
But he was sentenced to life in the dog house
I'm a little silly boy hanging in the tub
Scrub, scrub, scrub got to wash away all the ketchup from when my dad becomes the hulk.
Mom came in and saw the ketchup water turning red she she said I hope this isn't my baby boys final waterbed.
Then laughed and left.
My mama mrs. G is silly and playful but she didn't make no tea.
I got a little tired and fell asleep, the water filled my lungs and I couldn't make peep.
then my momma came in and said guess I was right . LOL XD. little did she know I was very thirsty. Slurp Slurp Slurp.