Long Bedclothes Poems
Long Bedclothes Poems. Below are the most popular long Bedclothes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bedclothes poems by poem length and keyword.
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 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.
Under the bedclothes with my torch
I live in a land of dream,
where a forest grows with curly trees
and a canyon runs between
My light shines out, just like the sun,
allowing me to see,
two mountains rising in the air
as lovely as can be.
Descending down the canyon walls
all moist with steamy heat
my mind and body nearly stall
my heart pounds out it’s beat.
This place I’ve travelled many times
and every time renew
my passion for this lovely land
with such a heavenly view.
When daylight comes I know I’ll try
to share this lands deep wealth,
but now my batteries have run dry
so I’ll go to sleep myself!
Ivor G Davies
[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]
Increasing one's mileage
though a long-lost child of Earth
hiking in familiar wilderness areas
sluggish, bed-bound days
wandering in the midst of the night
daydreaming with a night light on
snarled up in bedclothes.
discern internal struggles.
simple, intricate, and exquisite
conversions from the Ember era
In the silence, hear faint whispers
I indulge in sluggish laps
I wish to hear your syllogistic reasoning
not believing what is reported
Many people can sleep soundly
All is resolved with syntax
happily soaking up insights into you
whenever you hit the silent button.
Written: May 22, 2023
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.
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
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.
FATES FOOTFALLS
fate’s footfalls - the bull’s running.
i hear the sound of a stampede
at my ankles. the rush of blood
pulsing through my veins, hammering
my heart, quite like a silver spike
penetration of a vampiric scream.
(my bedclothes sweating. i turn)
darkness on a crisp Winter’s eve.
snow’s falling...i see their shape,
and then his eyes, like icy daggers.
i’m walking with increasing speed
but the sound of heavy steps following
… breathing on my neck. i fall
(like a cliff, i hang off my bed)
fooling fate, i wake up to a sunny day.
i wash the panic off my face. i run
all day long, never noticing footprints,
the same width, same length, the odor
of rotten eggs, and the black hood
that fades in and out. i rub my eyes
as death drops his ax…
(i know i won’t wake up)
3/11/2017
Innocent candle flame invokes memories
Childhood in a home not suitable
Candles handed out for bedtime
Precious items giving comfort
A yellow flickering flame lighting the way
Treat it with respect
Extinguish when ready for sleep
Two candles a week are the rations
House so large dark and creepy
Seemed alive when night time settled
Voices heard when the wind played tricks
Creaks and groans getting louder
Trees joined in the game
Swaying as they fended off the wind
Childhood and afraid of darkness
An imagination the child could not handle
Shadows on walls added to it all
Bedclothes pulled over head listening to the sounds
Peered from under the bedclothes
Candle flame burning yellow, comforting
Occasional flicker as a breeze appeared from nowhere
Bedroom door creaked open
Mother's head appeared briefly
Mother unaware her child so afraid
Wanted to shout out to her
Sleep called out its name
The candle still did flame
Left to burn until no wax is left
Tomorrows darkness will bring challenges.