Slugabed
Morning is now my night.
I saw rest I never saw before,
the bed I call Nurse,
and I lease the room.
Poems on the topic: bed
Poems on the topic “bed” on Poets.by.
Budget traveller
We tell money
how to serve us without money:
on any given road,
several businesses and a bed.
Retreat
My private bone, my chance heart,
my Walden in a wardrobe, my rose—
all night we lay
in one green bed.
Breakdown
With my night tooth
and my dirt fiddle I
broke down,
nothing to live by
but to play the country
uncle, write
a journal of my journey
to this bed.
Nightcap
He sent for wine
in bed, and she
would not let him
come to her
out of jealousy
of that other
between him
and trouble.
Insomniac’s to-do list
Wake in the night to drink chocolate.
Settle next door.
Read and be happy.
Order a fat lie and write about it.
Hear the noise of other works.
Wish myself not to see the bed.
Coronation day
Pleasure is a red throne
and all the fiddlers in red.
Come to me as if
to the ground,
as if walking up and down
or going to the kitchen.
Eat the first dish
on the king’s table
and give me music of all sorts—
but above all, a kiss.
And we stayed till the city
had a light like a glory
round about it
and a great many men and women
laid hold of us, drinking to us
one after another—
Horse whisperer
A horse in a bad mood
is a hard horse, a high horse—
simple fury without much mind.
I sat with him a good while,
talking home and bed.
Composed
A great music
we borrow of the sea—
and so still
the bed.
Sadhu
We part, I and my cell.
And though I have seen it often,
I am more and more pleased
with the street—
a rank home and bed.
Lexophile
I left my wife for a dictionary.
It spoke as 1000 strangers to me,
and if I saw hand and hatch
I saw harpsicon—a bargain,
a batten, a bed where
I please my
self, strength, segnora…
Joinery
The master joiner agreed about
the many pretty pleasures
in a glass house.
Since he was married to drink,
we parted, I home
to my paper bed.
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