soft colors
soft slippers
soft steps
soft bedsheets
soft pillows
sweet dreams
soft, the night streams...
~ sunlight’s satin beams
Story of gentle metazoans in yellow
Furry and soft, above trees and below
Frolicking after four
Canoodling on flour
Shadows of naughty paws on meadow.
They call us softly and tenderly every night.
They adjust and fold to our every touch.
I know of none who sleeps without pillows;
Soft cushions made to embrace the human body.
Notwithstanding, there are those among
Us mortals who seem to think pillows are
For having fun and engaging in pillow fights
But that's another story, another poem.
There are things our bodies require for comfort.
Some require more comfort than others. One
pillow for some; three or more pillows for others
to reach their comfort zone. Indeed, we are
Creatures of comfort.
Pillows to decorate our beds
Pillows for the head and neck.
Pillows between our thighs.
Pillows to hold and to hug.
Pillows for propping our legs
Pillows under the back..
Pillows on top of us.
Moreover, so often it appears that there
Is a secret to arriving at just the right touch
Or better yet, the right pillow. At any rate,
We will toss and turn all through the night,
Reach for that heavenly pillow oasis.
Fortunately, many of do indeed find that
Comfort zone before the break of day.
Whether the comfort is to be found in the
Pillow or the person, I'm not really sure.
Pillows in the sky
float in the breath of the wind
slowly moving, soft flying views
Time to rest in the clear space of mind
Pillows in the sky
waiting, shining, showing
all the special things to find
Clouds like these pillows, in the sky
are not the only reason
for rest and for dreams
It's all more than it seems
Heidi Sands
9/6/25
(C)opyright
Slept with debt
Colors fading in
And about my paper
These missiles
I learn from
Lost times
Missing tables
Without a binding
Leaving signs
Coming long, overdone
My riddled ponds
Scram, loves
Every beating shirt
Out of fits i have worn, down
Down, i war every one down
To be alone, dense
As putrid grey
Clouds inside of a sand
A single sand left
Whereth my shlacked confusion
Meaningless resentable
Getting through a need
She wouldnt love
Her boy is my shove
Back to war he goes
Oh, my beloved,
I've been searching for you all day long.
Since the day we met,
I've been deeply in love with you.
I've been craving your presence,
Dying every day as I wait for you.
I've been utterly consumed!
I sense that you've been with me telepathically,
Sending me signs!
I feel like you're the only king of my heart,
Capable of ruling the universe.
You're the only one who can conquer the world.
You told me that everything's possible
when we unite!
You revealed that there's another life
Beyond what we can touch or see.
You've proven that you're the only one
Who can truly reap the world's rewards!
I know, you love me unconditionally.
Yet, you struggle to reveal your true identity,
Fearing I'll leave you forever.
Sometimes, you think of leaving me
When you see me with someone.
But know this, my love: I'll always be by your side.
Trust me, darling. Trust me, darling.
plump posh plush puffy
pretty, poufy, plaid purple pillows
providing cushioned comfort for Cali
enthusiastically enjoyed by boyfriends
encouraging enlightening enthusiasm
for comfort, coziness, and calmness.
I hold his pillows, wishing for his cologne, beneath my elbows
As I sit in a position as though in a meditation.
I await his return to the desires which I most yearn.
A unicorn travels through the wheat fields and lays its dreams on pillows of poppies,
In your fragrance of wind, as clover crowns itself in bloom,
Over the evening horizon, see, stars were falling,
And in a handkerchief, I knot the embroidery of the storm.
Under my feet, dust grows, and lightning passes through me,
The wind moves among the shadows, caressing itself.
My summer, you who were ephemeral and now delay yourself,
Septembers will come again just as butterflies arrive on flowers.
I don’t see how time flees if my eyes are blind,
Nor how amber flows through the clock, hidden beneath the rhubarb,
Under foreign rains, water suffocates in the abyss,
And crowded seconds walk their fingers through the fords.
From a clock falls a shadow trembling towards the horizon,
I no longer know if I have died or am a bird of salt,
The moment between butterflies sometimes seems a chasm wounding words,
Other times a field of mallows that is silent and deceives you.
On a child, time paints the dew of golden steps,
I gather the swallows from the grass, fleeing from summers that fly away.
fluffy clouds floating
blue skies meet the turquoise sea
setting life on course
Remember when you cried
in the morning because you
'left a poem on your pillow'
at night... It was such a big
deal and you even agonized
over it for a quarter of an
hour or so before you threw
in the towel, realizing that
you would never get that
poem back in your head
again... though poems are
actually somewhat like buses
if you miss one, you'll catch
the next one... When you
come to that realization, you
sleep better at night and
wake up untroubled in the
morning, understanding that
what the world never reads
it never misses
In a sea of quilted pillows way down below
Were stitches of love and fun that Jan's grandma did sew
In the hem there was a teensy little elf named Nimble
He had watched grandma’s magic, when she used a thimble.
Nimble kept quiet until the child was asleep.
Not coming out until their snores were loud and deep.
Remnants of a sage woman’s goodness were stitched in love
Nimble knew that our dear grandma was watching from heaven above
how many pillows does an average giraffe need?
To lay his head down without lying down in his seed?
ten would be too skimpy, twenty might be wild.
Come on, think, my friend. Use your brain, my child.
I guess maybe fifty? The child ventured a teensy guess.
I gave him a wave, but I knew it would be less.
I had measured a giraffe next to a pillow pile in May.
If I did not now have dementia, I could probably say.
But my mind is a trickster, old age is kicking my petootsie.
I ran toward the shoreline the way a bear’s prey will flee.
How many whats does a who need? I asked.
Unfortunately now my brain could not remember the task.
What demands to make
From their heads
Obedient pillows?
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