Ode to my bed

My bed is a temptress,
wide-eyed,
a white-cotton lady begging me softly
with pillow-voice vows
to dress her in velvet and vapor of dreams
she call me to darkness of dreaming
turning me crazy
itching, alone in the skin of my body.
My bed is my mistress,
seductress with down-fingers
stroking my hair
gently demanding me deeper in nakedness-sea
to swim in her down-bosomed flesh,
to dive into depths of her breathing.
My bed is the reason for me
being awake when morning of chores
is calling me back to the shadows of living.
My bed in the morning
stays silent but knows
I’ll be back in the evening.

Vincent’s Bedroom in Arles by Vincent van Gogh

For Sherry at toads, writing about an ordinary thing… in my case it’s about my love affair with my bed.

May 2, 2019

19 responses to “Ode to my bed

  1. I love the juxtaposition of, “morning of chores is calling me back to the shadows of living,” with a suggestion that your dreams are where the light is, in the snuggly wuggly arms of your down-bosomed mistress. So dreamy and pleasant.

  2. Nice ode, Bjorn. I like reading and writing, not real good, odd sounding poems. I also like Van Gogh a lot though I am not familiar with this one. We spent a week in nearby St. Remy where his olive orchards he painted and the sanatorian where he admitted himself after cutting his own ear off are located. Also were on Arles several times. I would have loved finding this picture for my post.
    ..

  3. Nice ode, Bjorn. I like reading and writing, not real good at that, ode sounding poems. I also like Van Gogh a lot though I am not familiar with this one. We spent a week in nearby St. Remy where his olive orchards he painted and the sanatorian where he admitted himself after cutting his own ear off are located. Also were in Arles several times, very pretty around there in Provence. I would have loved finding this picture for my today’s post.
    ..

  4. I love your ode to your bed. I quite love mine, and once wrote an ode to it, also. LOL. I cant wait to get there, tonight, after a very busy day which has me exhausted at 2:30!!!!! Thanks for this wonderful poem, Bjorn. I love that they wait for us all day. Ever faithful!

  5. love it – but yours is gentle compared to mine – it clutches with warm fingers when I even think of getting up in the morning, and trips me up when I try to climb out…. 🙂

  6. Oh, there is nothing like the comfort of one’s own bed. Light insists we rise and in evening our bed sings, come rest.

  7. I’ve never thought of my relationship with my bed in quite this way, but I see now how its comfort is akin to a loving partner.

  8. There’s nothing better than a comfortable bed – and you’ve captured that here. I like the “depths of her breathing” and her morning silence.

  9. This was great Bjorn! Where eould we be without our beds – in a cardboard box on the street I suppose? Would love to bebetter acquainted with mine, but ongoing struggles with insomnia sometimes stand between us…

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