Long Mattress Poems
Long Mattress Poems. Below are the most popular long Mattress by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mattress poems by poem length and keyword.
Breathing, counting, don’t ignore the basiC
cover up if you sleep commandO.
“Monster mosquitoes masticating” in your bayoU.
“Disquieting dreams” can be so meaN.
“Properly prostrate” on the mattress - don’t siT
and stare, nor stress, nor sweat like you’re a tsunamI.
One, two, three - begin with “dire determinatioN.”
You might imagine “wooly wonders” as you sinG.
Peaceful, quiet rest as you atone and blesS
each pastoral lamb in the shadow of death husH,
your breath, halitosis mixed with lemon and limE.
Forget everything and everyonE.
In no time, you’ll be fast asleeP.
9/29/2022
Green Foliage shelters us from the world
Hiding us from a reality we know too soon we must face
Brown spongy pine needles make an earthen mattress
Not a word spoken
Eye meets Eye
Stare into me and my soul will tell you everything you need to know
A lifetime of words in one look
Your soft brown eyes devour me into them
Hands no longer can be controlled
Reaching out to explore the landscape we desire
Your dress slides off your shoulders to the ground
My clothes fall on top of them in a heap
Stepping back to admire your form cut out against a green backdrop
I have never been to a more beautiful place than you
Your figure molded by the gods from the blueprint in my head
Pulled close by your hips
Soft wet kisses with eyes locked
Drop to knees
Taste your skin
An ecstasy welling up in my chest never felt before
My heart shudders in joy as you silently mouth, "I love you"
You pull me inside and we become one
A rhythmic symbiotic unit
Cannot get close enough
I want to crawl into you
Your eyes tell me that you wish to devour me as well
This is bigger than skin and pleasure
This is what they write stories about
This is when we are truly most beautiful
Curled as one
Hearts beating in our chests
Love not spoiled by words
This is us
In
Beautiful Silence
Am I crazy I might be I don’t mind
I was lost I don’t remember when
But here I am I don’t know why
But by the grace of God
Streets filled with busy shoppers laughing buying
Busy shoppers arrive home bags full a warm bed
Concerned that something should be done
Easily said when you are well fed
Life is good when your mattress isn’t the sidewalk
But here I am by the grace of God
I am crazy I have been told more than once
Jesus ate with the sinners and tax collectors
I know I was there
Jesus touched the unclean when many wouldn’t
And they touched Him and He touched me
So many looking for hope whatever the cost
Life’s a gamble, scratch the card the big one elusive
Life is good when your mattress isn’t the sidewalk
But by the grace of God here I am
Frank Black Blacharczyk
He allows himself to hover
over his own racing weight.
He recalls the ease
of running effortlessly…dopamine highs.
His toes are earth-pushing landmines,
his elastic ankles are circa 1980’s,
they detonate, they are the thrusters
for rocketing tendons.
His body is as light as his deepest breath,
an endless short-fused burst of energy
sustaining effortless flight.
Then, one night
restless legs push him across
a damp mattress
he is chasing his dog
across a fast-flowing river,
the dog, a running partner
that used to run beside him.
Halfway over fast-moving water
he weakens; begins to flail
as he falls into another eddy of time.
Quizzically, the dog looks back
and sits down to wait
for 30 years,
but he never does catch up.
I walked on Cedar lane where estates used to be
Until taxes on each acre made their residents flee
The views of the Hudson are still grand
But it makes financial sense to subdivide the land.
Young couples skip the wedding vows though they feel love within,
Benefits reward the single life; the married seldom win.
There are homes with narrow fronts, the reason, if you ask
Was that the width of the home was criteria to tax.
In my county middle earners were the rule
But taxes rose, for pensions and for school
So they moved many miles to reduce their tax rate
or made the jump to go completely out of state.
It’s easy to condemn a crook who breaks the law for cash,
But did you pay your contractor “off the books” to save a stash?
And who are those guys he hired, English they speak not
He'll claim he didn't pick them up at a big box parking lot.
Taxes distort all sorts of behavior
But I have an idea that can be our savior.
Eliminate all taxation
Print money instead, save the nation!
I know this proposal could cause consternation
But think, no accountants, no weeks of preparation.
No IRS, less smuggling, less incentives to cheat:
More business formation and a better balance sheet.
If you keep cash under your mattress, its a dumb caper
In a few years it might be usable as wallpaper.
What we do doesn't work, look at the national debt.
Investing in the USA is not a long term bet.
Feds printing money might also lead to inflation
But the new April 15 could be a cause of celebration
Farmers could hand down the family farm
Without handing death taxes to the Fed's long arm.
"Death and taxes” may endure no matter what we do:
For governments find backdoor fees when old revenues fall through.
Still, I can dream, can I not?
Of an opportune rainbow, and an economy that's hot.
If I will talk to myself, well I will
And I do,
As the spring of my mattress
Recoils; I get up
Put on my shoes
Left,right,left,right
Tight they march
At my words
O my word
Three-hundred and,
and sixty-five
The tears held back
What is the point
To talking to you
When the peas
Deep dived, from the oversized
Can, leaving just enough
For the salad and ashes
Left, right, left, right
Five months go
And dark circles appear
In the corners
And the morning smothers
Early Hallow-
een, and March
brings screams
If I will talk to myself, well I will
And I do,
As the spring of my mattress
Recoils
And I get up…and I get up
5/11/2022
I Love You
I love you as much as a digging dog loves finding its long buried T-bone.
I love you as much as I love carne asada tacos and beans on Saturday nights.
I love you as much as the blue sky loves a flowing white cumulus cloud.
I love you as much as a revving car engine loves its regular oil changes.
I love you as much as a marching ant loves my open gaping cookie jar.
I love you as much as a dead rotting corpse loves a green gated graveyard.
I love you as much as a crooked preacher loves collecting baskets full of money.
I love you as much as a common thief loves an unlocked door at midnight.
I love you as much as a cluss-filled toilet loves finally flushing it all down at dawn.
I love you as much as a mosquito loves the open bare skin on the back of my leg.
I love you as much as my stomach loves the flow of warm mashed potatoes in winter.
I love you as much as an open book loves human eyes peering upon its naked white pages.
I love you as much as a bed loves the springs in its mattress when the bouncing begins.
I have my red electric blanket, a real joy.
My husband has his baby mattress frog
Kitty has her fluffy big-eyed baby toy.
A stuffed headless tiger is comfort to our dog.
Supper fed and comfortable, we live our life our way.
We curl up in our spots, in front of the television set.
Kitty keeps her baby close at hand, but what can I say?
Now there is another headless animal thanks to Big Gray.
Big Gray is a puppy, and a professional chewer for sure.
He does not understand boundaries, but his heart is pure.
If he goes after Kitty’s baby, there will be the devil to pay.
So, I keep my eyes open, whenever Big Gray heads that way.
We were thrown in the back of a pick-up truck camper in 1964,
My twin sister, my brother, and me. We were all fighting age.
There was a mattress, comic books, three pillows, and an ice chest.
We were told if we got into the ice chest we would be sorry, so we didn’t.
Mommy and Daddy sat in the front. Daddy drove. Mommy smiled.
If we rapped on the tiny in between window hard she might open it.
Other times she glared and shook her head ‘no”.
Going to the bathroom was expected at each stop, not many of them.
We drove from Iowa to South Dakota. Saw the Corn Palace.
It was amazingly beautiful; I never wanted to leave it. Saw Indians.
We called them that in 1964, and I remember how beautiful they were.
Like TV Indians that I used to root for more than the cowboys.
Stopped at a park with enormous dinosaurs you could walk up and down.
Mount Rushmore was exactly like the books. Did not interest me long.
We reread and reread those twenty-two comic books, nothing else to do....
Except watch mile after mile after mile of badlands, all the same as the other.
Pretty for the first mile or two, maybe three tops.
I swear there are three thousand miles of Badlands in South Dakota.
So this is where the trail ends
in a long forgoten paper town
Flipping dirty mattress in the ghetto turning tricks for matchsticks all for money lending
Because we born unto it like scarlet vixens in classic literature told to believe in
So bleed for me then place me on
the next bus home
Until i ascend come easter to master the hanging tree
Crusading forth to meet my prom date 1 day i hope to marry
A journey into discovering that which i thought i'd lost i had in fact not
Wrote aboard the deck of a fishing boat
set to sea in a hurricane no mortal human shall return from
An epilogue to dodging hailstorm
whilst eating peppercorn to warm
the cockles of the coldest of darkened heart