By Poet..... "Sometime life is unseen. What remains then shows up."
Over the many years,
pillows have been filled with tears.
Unseen dreams of attacking bears,
representing my many fears.
Now unseen what remains?
It is all locked away in my brains,
tied tight with heavy chains.
Sometimes red busting veins,
filling me with overwhelming pains.
The moon curls up into the
night,
And fluffs a cloud of downy
white.
He tucks the stars into their
beds,
With silver blankets over their
heads,
Then softly find his golden
light.
There's tear stains on Dawn's pillow,
there's red in her eyes
The man that she has chosen
turned out to be a wolf in disguise
Soon turning her life into a nightmare,
something she didn't even recognize
She hates the man he is when
he turns cold on a dime,
From a dapper Dr. Jekyll,
to a full blown Mr. Hyde
At night, I swear my bed’s alive,
it waits for darkness to arrive.
Because once I sleep, without a doubt,
the pillows start sneaking out.
I place them neatly, two by two,
like normal pillows always do.
But when I wake, it’s clear to see
they’ve run away from under me.
One is hiding near my feet,
one has vanished down the sheet.
One is halfway off the bed,
like it just gave up and fled.
The blanket twists into a rope,
my bedsheet folds with zero hope.
And somehow, every single night,
my mattress wins the pillow fight.
Then morning comes, the battle starts—
I rebuild the bed in broken parts.
I tuck, I fold, I smooth, I press...
and five seconds later? It’s a mess.
Making beds is heroic pain—
a daily fight I can’t explain.
But still I try, though it’s absurd...
because my pillow is a stubborn bird.
Jacob used a stone
A pillow thought of distress
But saw a vision
Samson used Delilah's thigh
A pillow thought of comforts
But lost his vision
While you think of life
How fast it becomes rough
Making out of you a crying sigh,
Remember pleasure is nigh
Taking a cool and chilling account
Of how successes will really count
Not coming through in ease
Rather caught yearning of your prowess' fuse
At a time
When you remember your aim
Do not really frown
Thinking of how crazy to make it grow
Rather check your pillow
.
each winter morn
az 'kilroy'
out mine visage
peeps from mine
bankerz
i don't feel it
yet yet
for theatrical affects
"burrrrrr"
sniff sniff
(((eve)))
i mean ((cauffeee))
(((ouch))) girl
")
Written by Gail DeBole
On November 8, 2025
Updated on Dec. 9, 2025
REM protectively flows out
Into Cryptic mental fuzziness.
May make no Immediate sense.
May make no sense for a lifetime.
While still providing a
Soft or harsh pillow to a
Human soul.
It’s late at night, everything is dark, the evening is drawing to a close, another day in the books, oh what a day, schedules, appointments, so many errands we ran.
Nothing good on tv, only the depressing news, we crawl into bed, we collapse into our pillow, oh what a relief, blankets are pulled up around our bodies, this is so blissful.
Silence fills the room, just resound of the evening rain as it hits the window sill, it’s calming to listen to, sets the mood…. we lay in bed as we embrace each other, this is what every couple looks forward to I’m sure..
We talk about our stressors from the day, as to comfort each other, our love is pure, I whisper silently in your ear, we undress and give each other the passion we’ve held in all day, the rain is coming down hard, thunder and lightening lights up our room, as our bodies move in sync, we collapse into our bed, Oh how I love pillow talk.
The Cheshire Cat smiles, behind the gray cotton pillow, watching the fireflies dance.
A lonely, cold gecko unstuck itself, unsteady,
from the cliff-face, bedroom wall.
A certain, short leap onto my pillow, then to calmly
move up over my sleeping form to my open face,
and there to kiss my closed
eyelids with rasping lips and sticky tongue.
"Lickety Split !"
"Spittle & Slick !"
It clicked and twitched this little tune as it did its rough work
on my quiet eyes. A slow massage,
moving orbits in their boney optical universe,
rolling, rotating, revolving behind the blue-veined lids
of my galaxy.
You didn't spot the camouflage,
didn't see the gecko,
just thought I was dreaming
with my eyes open
deserted now
the house of her youth
hiding places
for spiders
Rain today has stripped the sky of its clouds
I am forced to seek refuge in the pillow
Books and cactus all enveloped in a shroud
Life may well be priced at a dollar per kilo
_____________________
22 August 2024
I lay on pillow throne of lies.
Tolerated all the flings and flies.
pillow next to me
in the gleam of sunrise
without a wrinkle
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Empty words, empty souls , a pillow, a savior,
Like sweet flavor, an anchor much braver,
There to save you..
And what for?
To keep you from sinking deeper
From the images that make them think you're a creeper
A vision of the reaper, a version much cheaper
The scary monster, a creature, the biggest traitor,
Who is there to save you?
Hunting memories, broken legacies, Bodies stacked with lost identities.
Energy drained, dead, just like old batteries.
Broken hearts, shattered souls, like casualties.
Is this supposed to be the remedy?
Finding comfort in the pain,
Seeing you as a burden to contain,
Calling you insane,
Demanding you explain.
Leaving you dumbfounded
The clown in the game with no brain.
Throwing shade,
Wanting you to carry all the weight,
Till you drop,
Fall to the ground, like the rain,
Their words stuck like a blood-colored stain.
A place to turn and release the strain,
Where silence holds what words can't explain
The pillow where everything stays the same.
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