Short Sheeted Poems

Trump Constantly Thinks

Trump Constantly thinks he can be conceited,
Indicated in the things that he has tweeted;
Total disregard;
Making things hard;
Did complain after bed was double sheeted.

Jim Horn...

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Waking everyday with a sheeted mind,
Eyes blurry and fused together,
The pressure on my face,
Like my body is telling me no.
The steam stays shimmering,
The cool air outside giving me relief,
Oh do I wish for that cool breeze,
To clear my mind, set me free....

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Sheeted winds of hushed desire
Dragged behind these wings of fire.
Momentous doom plans melt below
The ofttimes weary hands now show.
This room all splashed in ink's delight
Grows faded now in rhymes' hindsight.
One drip of passed time's waning urge
Now calls for floating hope; Submerge....

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Tiz eight twenty five and a fresh sheeted bed
Awaits at the top of the stair
It can wait for a while
I’ll be soaking in style
With a glass of champagne and a tart
In a bubbling tub
With jets that all rub
On a body with thunder full heart
At its best it’s a  wonderful start
For a pair that are never apart








This is simply joy bubbling forth on another day of us...

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A floral blanket of silence
Lies out across the desert

Nothing moves-not air
Nor trees
       Nor blades of grass

The ogre’s breath is held
Suspended, then expelled

Stomping his feet,
Flashing his eyes,
Grumbling, the ogre

Blows
And, grumbling, cries
Fat sheeted tears –

Trees quickly bow
Shaken green heads as
The silent blanket erupts
In oceanic waves
Of startled grasshopper minions...

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lay me down on that thin sheeted mattress
six feet long and three feet wide
let me feel the spring holes holding me so safe
as my head sinks into that thin navy issue pillow
pounding in unison with the ever roaring surf
Too soon will the screaming gulls end this sweet escape
But now the watery lullaby can have its way
As my mind races back to Wales and a tumbling stream
Wandering freely through leaf blown memories...

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These hands that write  
       have lost their touch 
This mind that thinks 
       Is lost 
These eyes that see the world around 
       Are sheeted over with frost 


These lips that used to kiss you 
       Are chapped without your touch 
These hands that used to hold yours 
       Have grown cold without your love 


We have lost ourselves 
        In old memories 
Clinging onto what used to be 
         You and Me...

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The mirrors and furniture are sheeted.
Love has eaten me up
like a fancy box of chocolates
now completely gone.

My phone is clean off the hook.
Voices carry emotion 
and always the opinions, opinions, opinions.
Nobody can worm their way in now.

Hell is not going to break
its way through to me.

I sit utterly quiet with my hand placed
on my stomach. 
This is how somebody will find me-
as calm as a glass vase
in the cupboard at midnight....

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