Long Get into bed Poems

Long Get into bed Poems. Below are the most popular long Get into bed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Get into bed poems by poem length and keyword.


An Adventure At 3 Am

It's three in the morning
And I was awakened by 
An extreme thirst. In the night
It's hard to tell just how thirsty
You really are. It's not so easy
To sneak downstairs to get a drink.
Tiptoeing past my parents bedroom I think
About how angry he'll be when he finds
Me awake in the dead of the night.

It's now somewhere around maybe 3:03,
I've made it to the stairs and suddenly, creeeaaak!
I freeze and listen for father's fleeting footsteps
But, he does not come. I take a deep breath
And walk down the stairs. Oh god the dogs.
I didn't think of the dogs. They leap up high like frogs
Off their Lilly pads and jump onto me.
"Get off." I mouth the words silently
And push the dogs off. I grab myself a tall drink
And chug the thing down, put my glass in the sink.

Coming back up the stairs, it's a quarter past.
I skip the creaky stair that made my heart blast
Almost burst straight out of my ribcage.
Damn. I wanted a drink but I don't think I'm brave
Enough to venture too far past my bedroom.
My bedroom? Here I am! I've made it! I'm safe!
I did not wake my father from his sleep.
I'm in. Shut the door, and now I can breathe.

It's 3:18 now and I lay down in bed.
But, of course I can't sleep. I'm awake in my head.
Poetry, oh yes. This was poetry! A ballad!
Get my computer and I'll type my story to validate
And express just how it felt to be thirsty at three.
Then, they'll understand how it feels with a small victory
I'm the protagonist, the knight, trying my best to find
The elixir, guarded by Cerberus. Sneaking from behind
The sleeping dragon's cave. I don't want to wake
Him and so, I'm quiet and agile. A true hero.

3:38. My poem is written. It's time to try
To get into bed and rest. So reader, until next time. 
Goodnight.
Form: Ballad


As Nature Intended

AS NATURE INTENDED

This is the tale of Edward Brown, a man respected in the town.
A model of sobriety, a pillar of society.
He lived alone and, in hot weather, he’d walk around in the altogether.
With neighbours few and far between, he wasn’t likely to be seen.
And, anyway, to make quite certain, each window had a nice net curtain.
Having had a shower one night, he decided that he wasn’t quite
Ready to get into bed, and so he went downstairs instead.
First he put the kettle on and then prepared a buttered scone.
He put some cocoa in his cup and stirred it as he filled it up.
Just then he heard the front door bell; the knocker loudly knocked as well.
It gave poor Edward quite a fright; who could it be this time of night?
Standing there, completely nude, which in an old man looks quite lewd,
He realised, with a worried frown, that between him and his dressing gown,
There was a well-lit hall to pass and the front door was entirely glass.
He used his two hands to conceal those bits a man should not reveal.
But, as his hands were rather small, they really didn’t hide much at all.
He took a deep breath, made a dash, but, sadly, also made a hash.
And, running through the flood-lit hall, he tripped and had a nasty fall.
Just then he glanced towards the door and was aghast at what he saw.
For, standing there, mouth open wide, a female constable was right outside.
Panicking, he turned and fled, revealing the rear view instead.
The  PC (at the wrong address) was singularly unimpressed.
Her modesty was quite offended, so Mr Brown was apprehended.
My Lord, he intended no offence. And that’s the case for the defence.


10th October 2019
Nude - Descending a Staircase Contest

Sponsor - John Lawless
Form: Rhyme

Interesting

Interesting how were told that whatever we spend the most time on is what we worship yet you never hear someone being accused of worshing charity?

Interesting how were constantly being told that black is beautiful and given beautiful peoms about being a black child yet the same people who tell us this wouldn't stop for a second to embrace their African hair and walk around without a weave on the streets?

Interesting how we are constantly being told that our circumstances don't define us yet every other day were being classified into different classes of wealth? 

Interesting how no matter how connected to her soul that girl walking past my street is nobody will think she is beautiful because she is not light enough,yet we're constantly being told that beauty is soul deep!

Interesting how smart work and not hard work pays off yet we're constatantly being told that you don't have to be smart in this world in order to make it you just need to be passionate about what you do?

Interesting how the same people who tell us to love our neighbours wouldn't think twice about aborting a child that they don't want?

Interesting how were constantly being told that true love waits yet girls in every town are constantly being pressured to get into bed with boys they not even sure love them because they are afraid to loose them?

Interesting how were all so afraid of not belonging that you'd even rather be classified as an outcast then to be classified as a nobody even though you are destined for something greater then that?

Written on 24 September 2016

Games They Play

since the vacations have begun
having breakfast at home they shun

pick their individual bikes
the ones we chose before the price hikes

accompany them to a nearby park
where a dog always greets with a bark

they open their tiffin's
packed with assorted foods and muffins

they perch themselves on a log
eat most of the stuff rest is fed to a dog

once the food is all over
sun has risen higher they look for a cover

reaching back our destination
to play other games is the fascination

one goes and brings a kettle and three cups on a tray
'am made to have a cup, no choice must obey

when I've finished the so called tea
handed down a bill, as I'm at a restaurant ,its not free

once over with that comes out the doctor set
they are running a hospital, services of all kinds you get

then out comes the kitchen set, I've no say
all kinds of food s are served but made in clay

after this they bring out their stuffed toys
who are then arranged in rows of girls and boys

then begins the teaching,although themselves know little
assuming some students as dull, they are hit with something sharp n brittle

as the time slips by sun goes down n its dim
they are eager to go for a swim

get back in time for supper
change clothes and wear slipper

watch some bit of t.v till sleepy
by now I'm tired and feel a rise in my b.p

waiting for them to get into bed
to which they unwillingly tread
Form: Rhyme

Somehow, One Summer, Someone Somewhere Summed It Up

SOMEHOW, ONE SUMMER, SOMEONE SOMEWHERE IN SOME WAY SUMMED IT UP

Somehow they work it out and get into bed
Somehow they’d both rather make love instead
Instead of fussing about things that matter not in the long run
Somehow they work it out and the fighting is done

No one really understands how they do what they do
It may simply be the dove and his lifetime mate as they coo
Everyone marvels at the magnanimous virtue of each
Until, once again, they start firing and both run into the breach 

He did this to her and she did that to him as they bickered back and forth
And they both knew with surety that one should go south, the other one north
Give them enough time to consider their options at hand
And the next thing they’ll do will be something no one will understand

Doves mate for life or so I’ve been told by word of mouth
And neither lover really wanted to head north or south
But divisions and diverse dreams un-fulfilled had caused a rift
Yet they both remember each other’s embrace and how making love was granted as 
a gift

They decided to part as no longer partners would be the prudent plan
A winsome woman woefully in love with a wandering man
Two years later they met accidentally by the shore as their toes sifted through the 
sand
Lo and behold today they’re once again together and that’s another thing no one 
can understand
    © 2011...Phreepoetry ~free cee!~


Premium Member When I Take My Glasses Off

The last thing I do before I get into bed…is remove my glasses from my head.

When young my thinking was innocent…my emotions raw…I assumed everyone saw the world I saw.

I was never annoyed…I didn’t worry….I imagined everyone’s world turned just as blurry.

I thought every star faded from everyone’s view…I thought everyone’s world turned foggy too.

Being young at heart I theorized…at night the worlds colors harmonized.

As I prayed the lord my soul to keep…I assumed this was how the world did sleep.

Looking back now I have to scoff…at my first thought with my glasses off.

How naive and innocent could I be…to think everyone saw the world like me!

Now that I’m older I know this to be true…that there are many visions…many points of view.

Still every night as I get ready for bed…when I remove my glasses from my head.

as the colors of people, their shapes and their size…all blend together…all harmonize…

with my glasses off I must proclaim……how, to me, everybody looks the same…

So with may glasses off it makes me think…the world looks so much more in sync.

It’s a nice feeling when the day is done…to see how the world blends together as one…

And it leads me to wonder what kind world this would be…if everyone saw the way I see. 

Would we all rejoice…or we scoff…if just for a moment…we took our glasses off.
© Jim Yerman  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Verse

Im the One With the Addiction

IM THE ONE WITH THE ADDICTION


I remember how you wrote and said that I was your addiction.

Now the roles have changed, Its me who has the addiction.

I crave for you every moment of the day and night. I yern for touch.

I remember how we spent our time together and we just couldn't leave eachother alone Im 
addicted to how you touched me when we were making love. Or even when we weren't doing 
anything and we would just cuddle up and watch the T.V.

And what meant the most was when nobody was able to break us...  But that all had changed.

Now things are unclear... your saying that you want to see other people and your not certain 
In what you want In life. You had always said we would be together... Why why now..

So I opened my heart and shared my dreams.

I gave It all to the addiction. The addiction helped with breaking down the walls that I had 
bulit from my childhood. I trusted you.

I should have known because your not supposed to feed your addiction. And thats what I did. 
You became my addiction.

I was willing to give you everything. I couldnt fight it. I just couldnt shake the habbit.

At night before I get into bed I get down and I pray to the lord that I will hear once again 
that Im your addiction.

For now Im the one with the addiction.




								
		Paris A.M. Roberts
Form:

Sitting In the Rocking Chair

Sitting in the rocking chair,
Watching the children grow,
Waiting for the day to come,
For my final rest.

I watch the world with ancient eyes,
A smile upon my face,
As it passes me by.
Sitting in the rocking chair,
My mind all aglow,
Melancholy mood,
As my children grow old.

Waiting here upon the porch,
Hat upon my head
My eyes twinkle with happiness,
My children’s children greet me now,
Hug me in my rocking chair,
The gentle hugs fill my brittle bones with warmth,
And I gaze upon them with joy,
Knowing this is the future,
While sitting in the rocking chair.

I gently rock back and forth,
My voice old and dry,
My son hands me some water,
And I speak again,
Telling them of when I was young,
Before this rocking chair.

With a sad smile upon my face,
I watch them leave my home,
Waving goodbye as they drive away,
Tears dripping from my eyes,
As I sit in this rocking chair.

Slowly I stand up,
From the rocking chair,
Hobble inside, steady and slow,
Get into bed and go to sleep,
And wake up in a bright place,
And see my rocking chair.

I sit down,
And smile at the gatekeeper,
And here I wait still,
I shall see my children soon.
© Liam Kelly  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member F Word

We were teenagers when we moved in together
My boyfriend now my spouse
Young ,in love ,full of future 
Excited about playing house

We would go to my mums for dinner
She lived quite a distance away
So I would always take my comfy flannelette nightie
So when home I could get into bed straight away!

He had said something wrong at dinner
So when we left I was really annoyed
Starting arguing with him in car
To that he just completely ignored!

His lack of response made me so frustrated 
Then angrily out of the blue this came
“Don’t be so f…..n ignorant”
He glared, pulled over “Get out of the car he exclaimed”

I had never said the F word before until that night
It unexpectedly came out of nowhere
We were both as shocked as each other
Catching us both completely unaware!!

I defiantly marched off into the darkness
Handbag clutched in hand 
As the Kombi sped off out of sight 
Leaving me alone ….not what I had planned!!

Anger subsided ,reality stepped in
I was in a flannelette nightie on my own in the night
I  ran and hid behind a behind a bus stop 
Until minutes later the Kombi was back in sight!!
© Deb M   Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Sleepwalker On the Beach

Sleep walker on the beach.

Its happened again on holiday at Clacton-on-Sea, with my family. Somehow I managed to sleepwalk from my bunkbed that I was sharing with my brother and find myself in a strangers bedroom, in the hotel.

I was walking along the beach with my kid brother looking for shells, when I saw a razor bill, I bent down to pick it up, and that's the last thing I remember.

I feel  a hand on my shoulder shaking me, and a voice saying " wake-up wake-up". I'm looking into a face like my grans although its not her. She's wearing a bright pink dressing gown, has rollers in her hair, and a hair net. "who are you young lad ?" She smiles a toothless smile.

I rub my tired eyes and try to focus on her wrinkled face, "I'm Peter, I have been dreaming". I think to myself oh no, its happened again I have been sleepwalking, I see an old man asleep in the double bed, I must have tried to get into bed with them, joke! 


I tell her my dream, she smiles gently and says" lets go and find your family".
Oh no my lot are going to rib me something awful over this.
© Jane Gomm  Create an image from this poem.

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