Vigil
on days as immediate as doors
fear would not fit
into our bed
her face like a dying aster
how to hold it
Poems on the topic: bed
Poems on the topic “bed” on Poets.by.
Bookworm
my old clutter of books
strata from the burial of a grove
telling me how to fall
and in which hard bed
Creature
wrought in bed
I continue working
a fire in the wind
a used tool
PTSD
I work to carry several heavy things
a lie the war
that violent red map in my gut
enough to have killed me
my wife in bed shifting
doubtful of my hurt
Quiet house
a long call
and the sudden nothing after
alone in bed
Armchair traveler
west of elsewhere
slept in my clothes
a journey on paper where
I travel along harm’s way
feign difficulties and hurry
myself to bed
Convention
to see how everybody
turns like the green
blind corn
while we clamber
among the trees
losing ourselves
in a small room
all bewildered
seeing how
they are there
without knowing almost
what to do but have
the outside killed
and ready up beds
in the same room
Face to face
looks hide the whole face
but in bed we could see
and all night a cold wind
blowing through the windows
Blinded
morning fell almost as a pall
over the bed
my eyes fail me looking so long
upon white uniformity
Book of Life
a mouth of judgement against me
an oven to bear
broke by the day’s work
I enter our book
of a bed
Timber
the great indifference of the wood
to the business of years
when they come to build
it is but another temple to home and bed
Rehabilitation
A bat is ill, since
my chimney smokes.
I quarter him in my hands—
a bat bed.
Describe a feeling — we’ll find a poem
Or try: