I leave the bed unmade―
toss the duvet to the floor,
leave it, rumpled and quiet,
along with my mother's hysteria.
The unholy mess coddles tomorrow
with pillow whispered yes.
I have slept with you for years―
pink menagerie of primitive art,
socks lost, one at a time,
in fanciful fruit-spilled sheets.
There is not my side or yours―
I stretch out in the center.
tk/March 2014
*"My Bed" by Tracey Emin
'Insouciance' ....what a misery this picture....but you made something interesting out of it, Tess! ~ Love the last line. ~ the performance is unique :)
ReplyDeleteSprightly written and quite pleasing...
ReplyDelete'Insouciance' - loved the poetic prose on this one ..very well captured, Tess.
ReplyDeleteI especially enjoy the line "pink menagerie of primitive art." I can feel that art. Each word sculpts it. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteAwesome poem, Tess. I immediately thought of a poem by Rod McKuen from his book, "Lonesome Cities". The poem is "Morning, Three" and here's a little slice of it:
ReplyDelete"I like the bed unmade.
It smells like each of us in turn
and each of us together.
I know the telephone
is crying for attention.
A minute more.
It's not the telephone at all
but celebrations of a brand-new kind
ringing from the watching walls.
Look at us.
It doesn't matter any more.
You like my weight and too fast breath
and smile in disbelief.
I'm smiling too.
I've yet to think of last week's friend
or Julie Andrews' face." ~Rod McKuen
Love your conclusion ... stretched out in the centre ... me too:-)
ReplyDeleteThanks for the new word I didn't know it and it's a fine word! I liked your poem so many of us love our beds and the memories they bring! And let's not forget all the many secrets which your mother must of found out about! Naughty Tess! Lol!
ReplyDeleteoh yes ..perfect!!
ReplyDelete...and life is perfect with you in it.... I do believe they are happy in love! This is the way we all should live really, ignore the bad stuff and revel in the goodness! Excellent piece.
ReplyDeleteSome good lines here Tess....nicely done
ReplyDeleteMy daughter's bed depicted twice!
ReplyDeleteI suppose your hubby has been called many things , but never "PinkMenagerieOfPrimitiveArt"
ReplyDeleteHa ha
Alas and alack, a single bed has only a centre - no choice of ''sides'!
ReplyDeleteExquisite.
ReplyDeleteLovely and fun in equal measure. Thank you!
ReplyDeleteReally, this is CUTE...if a thoughtful poem can be so-called. Ya know, I have wondered for a whole lifetime WHY we "make our beds" when we're gonna sleep in them again. Like taking a shower prior to a swim in the Gulf of Mexico. ---grin!
ReplyDeleteInsouciance is such a delightful word! Center of the bed feels safe to me ... Love the clean-shaven R.A.D.
ReplyDeleteThe middle is always good!
ReplyDelete'pink menagerie of primitive art" - Love that!
ReplyDeleteCalls forth many a smile! LOL
ReplyDeletelovelove those last two lines! Big smiles to you!
ReplyDeleteThis was amazing. "mother's hysteria" I can relate to. I love the last line, sleeping in the middle. Very free.
ReplyDeleteLove your words. I like the centre too.
ReplyDeleteAnna :o]
I picked you as a bed hog! I smiled all the way through this one. Nice.
ReplyDeleteAlways...
DeleteReally nice :)
ReplyDeleteI like the carefree tone in this piece. Your poem reveals new layers with each reading. :-)
ReplyDeleteThanks for all your kind and generous comments, dear readers...
ReplyDelete