Short Abed Poems

to get something done
tell you how i won
working together
is much better 
life like to side to abed
better to have
TOO HEAD...

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Redbird and the blue,
lend songs while I'm still abed.
Dark lullabies, too!
Beautiful visitors come,
in and out of all my days....

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ABC, ABC,
After ABC 
comes D,

EFG, HIJ,
After HIJ 
comes K,

LMN, OPQ,
Then come 
RSTU,

RSTU, RSTU,
VWX, Y for You,

I'm learning
   These abed
And at last
   I find Z.

Ha ha ha!...

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Live from hand to mouth

More meritorious than to live from hand to mouth
With no reserve to depend on,
And far better than
Keeping body and soul together
In hopeless destination
Make ends meet
Tete era ne nne
                      ABED ANTHONY...

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Night shoes wait ‘til we’re abed
and tiptoe ‘round the room.
Slipping through the shadows,
and sliding through the gloom.
They wait where it is darkest,
where we can’t see at all,
they jump out into our path…
to make us trip and fall.

5/14/2019
NIGHT SHOES Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Slausin...

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Alfa
father, brother, friend, counselor
Brother of late Gabriel, Mary, Pokedia, Salome and Elizabeth
Lover of poetry, Volleyball, and basketball
Who feels love, pain and sympathy
Who fears disappointment, disagreement and hate
Who would like to see Athens, Brazil and Palestine
Resident of Mwanza, Tanzania
Abed....

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Daybreak arose when night had passed
Lush meadows mantled with drops of dew
Craving, I eagerly broke the morning fast
and eagerly reached my arms out for you

Our hunger sated, but we lingered abed
Once again, we were starving to death
What lies between us are silken threads
of love and whispers with sighing breath...

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black petal lips
and budding hips
with soft sighs she sips
a pitcher of wine rose
moon kissed locks
and dainty socks
cups that overflows
apple cider eyes
and vanilla bean skies
a dull ache mulling
his deep voice lulling
french tipped nails
abed rigid sails
air brushed smiles
and earthly wiles
a blackberry haze
her integument maze
he does explore
she does adore...

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*Playing around with Alliteration


The sun softly shimmers with gold glimmers  
Sanguine sunsets dance marvelous minuets 
Before falling abed, he briefly bled 
for having to close his eyes
beneath stunning skies when daylight dies 
Revived, reborn each misty morn 
With radiant rays, he deftly displays 
his fading luminous light in flourishing flight 
...

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THE KILLING NIGHT IN KENYA

Lush green fields cushion diamond skies--
Cattle rustlers burst through night
Machetes swinging like a game 
Mid spring blooms whose scent delights

Rifles slung like children’s packs
Hug shoulders that should lie abed
Blood trails flow moonlit from stealth feet
Leaving sixty sleeping people dead

Victoria Anderson-Throop
12/30/12 ©

Death week of 12/22/12...

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I am
I am not what I think I am
I am not what you think I am
I am what I think you think I am

I appreciate the appreciated
I praise the praised
I never say no to nobody
I am what I think you think I am.

I am a spring for the thirsty
I am the stomach for hungry to full
I am a poem for a poet to live
I am the living philosopher
                                  ABED ANTHONY...

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There was once a young man from LaSalle,
Who quite loved to fall back in the fall.
But the spring's jump ahead
Found him lying abed
An hour late for his job at the mall. 

His boss said, "Being late will not do.
Falling back means one springs ahead too.
We will show you the gate
If you come to work late.
Early bed is the right way for you."


Written for Debbie's contest.  3/2/15...

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The aged poet lies abed
Listening to the falling rain
Tap dancing on some metal roof.
Ever since he could remember
Rain has been a fascination
For him, writing sundry poems
About this heavenly liquid.
He doesn’t know exactly why
But rain always precipitates
A flood tide of inspiration.
Once again the propensity
Immerses him entirely;
This time in an unlit bedroom
With a single theme in mind: rain....

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My sleep is dream-filled now --
imagined scenes, practiced dialogues,
fervid comments, loving words --
never-voiced retorts.
I resist awaking, lie in bed
clinging to a dream world --
and to that mind-constructed me
within it -- to that better, truer self, 
an ached-for rosy apparition.
Do not disturb my slumber --
let me lie abed and smile
until this waking world conforms
to the ideal one I build
in dreams....

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In the Song Of The Muses,
  the Prince heard his Queen

Now locked in a convent,
  her beauty unseen

The tower lay distant,
  its ramparts on guard

Just one point of entry
  a hero’s reward

The mist in the valley
  its prison to free

Through clouds in the distance
  her pleadings, her screams
  
Two miles before him
   all love waits abed  

The future unfolding
  —his destiny wed

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)...

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BOXES

darling clementines
are little oranges in a box
or one woman
who left me twice
boxed in my little room

my little room
is where i try to forget
that face i loved
no doors    no windows
totally boxed in

times are tough
it’s not just the money
i’m in a box
no doors    no windows
trying to forget your sweet face

lying abed
dream    dream    dreaming
in my cozy box
looking up at a ceiling
painted with moon and stars

Dave Austin...

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I love you he said as he lay supine abed.
Through veiled tears masked by a smile,
she glowed comely, masking fear and dread,
kissing weathered cheeks, gently,
her wares availed
and duly spread.
A gift of love to offer only one.

All pangs of fear now fled,
the child bride smiling all the while.
A woman now, resplendent dwells instead.
Taking charge of things anon,
she quickly whisks the room.
Baking yeast bread;
akimbo, she smiles….. “Clan Gunn” !...

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Bull and Bullock


The other night abed, Father,
propped upon an elbow, dropped 
and died.  Earlier that week, Mother
gave me Anthony to hold when 
Father threw a fist, missed

and bellowed through the door.
I did not see the biggest of them 
bear him back. But at the wake 
they spoke of how he ran, 
fell across a fence and swayed there.

I was in another room,
giving Mother Anthony to hold,
and I remember how,
clairvoyantly for once,
she wept there.


Donal Mahoney...

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Spring struggles to break winters hold
on its timely season onset.
The latent buds are reluctant
to sprout their protuberances;
robins haw vocal notes of song
while perched on stark swaying branches;
Crocuses spurn stifled tulips
abed for their impotency;
Sluggish hibernates’ hesitate
to waken from their dormancy 
and fair-weather, housebound humans
unwilling to venture outside.
but soon a warm, vernal zephyr
will breathe life into everything
reviving consciousness of spring....

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