Short Bedclothes Poems
Short Bedclothes Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Bedclothes by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Bedclothes by length and keyword.
To date the snorthog
has only been seen
late at night in the bedroom
disturbing me and my dreams
first he hogs the bedclothes
then snorts up a storm
while I lie awake
counting sheep
trying to keep warm
but before I become
a grumbly old grouch
there is yet one solution
have him sleep on the couch
Under the bedclothes with my torch,
I live in a land of dream.
Where a forest grows, with curly trees
and a canyon runs between.
My light shines out, just like the sun,
allowing me to see,
two mountains rising in the air
as lovely as can be.
I take a trip and follow paths
where only I may be,
I move with caution in this land,
........if woke, she’ll shout at me!
Ivor G Davies
Midsummer nights come with humid sighs,
Offering little sleep on soggy August nights
With cicadas rasping and moths lighting,
Where such critters are clearly unwanted
In spite of it all, I try to remain undaunted.
Me and the bedclothes constantly fighting
Up and down, rearranging, turning on lights,
Moths are now joined by two pesky flies.
written July 13, 2021
Dark, tranquil night grew fidgety
With fits of whooshing wind
And sleep, serene, it ebbed away
With pelting, driven rain
While wife of mine, she clutched my hand
‘Neath bedclothes warm and soft—
All through the storm we cuddled tight
As branches bobbed, they thrashed;
Pale dawn, at last, all gray and wet
Brought Eros on a call:
He saw our love, his grin he flashed,
A tempest then stirred up.
Sue’s bedclothes are soaking wet
She lies in a pool of hot sweat
Now what could be the cause …
Is it the menopause?
Her body won’t let her forget!
Sue's face gets bright red and flushed
She pretends it’s because she’s rushed
Her body is changing
She knows she is ageing -
But this subject mustn’t be discussed!
Written for a friend who is having these symptoms - Sue is not her real name!
5th October 2016
Luminescent sadness
Orb of melancholy woes
Darkness holds me close
A child in dreary bedclothes.
The moon a somber mirror
Troubled nights in its reflection
Standing under a mournful tree
Its branches cry in my direction.
Bleeding condensation
Its tears echoing my pain
My purity no longer exists
What did he have to gain?
My celestial friend watches
Telling me I’m not alone
Despite the agony of home
This is the only peace I’ve known.