a poem is not a bed

Photo by Saliha on Pexels.com

A poem cannot be a bed.

No matter what you’ve read,

A poem cannot be a bed.

A bed can you keep you warm on a cold morning, pushing back the start of the day.

Can a poem do that?  Keep away the chill, keep you from rising,

From the mornings bustling and the days hustling?

That’s beyond its scope, wouldn’t you say?

A bed has sheets and blankets, soft and cozy to cover you.

Can a poem do that?  Wrap you in its words, like bedclothes,

From your toes all the way up to your nose?

That’s not something words can do.

A bed can keep you safe from nightmares, cover your head.

Can a poem do that?  Act like a shield and keep your ghosts at bay,

See you through the night until the sun rises and you’re ready to play?

With a poem for armor, you’d surely be dead.

A poem cannot be a bed.

No matter what you’ve read,

A poem cannot be a bed.

A bed will be there for you, tired or not, day or night.

Can a poem do that?  Give you the space to just be,

Accepting you for who you are, not caring what you or others see?

Words on a page, they can’t do that…  Right?


Loved this post from Rara and thought I’d have a go at it too. Not sure I did it well at all but at least I’m trying to write more consistently and that’s nothing to scoff at these days.


Prompt: What can’t a poem be? List ten different things a poem cannot be. Then write a poem that attempts to be at least one or more of those things.

From: Eat A Persimmon by Carla Sofia Ferreira

Raise a glass

I haven’t written much in a while. Life has been strange for a few months… A year of months. I’m a few letters behind for the boys. Those will be coming soon as I have finally written them. And I’ve started writing with Revis again, who is kindly not holding me to the editing I’m supposed to be doing so we can publish the next book in our Seven Sceptres series. Writing comes easier than editing. Hopefully, though, getting back into the swing of things here, with words like these, will kick me into gear on the work I’m supposed to be doing. Hopefully. We’ll see. In the meantime, if it is your sort of thing, grab a glass and join me for a drink.


Here’s to the words I never dared to share for fear of the consequences I would have to pay.

Here’s to the words I was brave enough to say, consequence be damned, come what may.

Here’s to the guilt I carry for all the choices I truly wish I hadn’t made.

Here’s to the guilt I set aside, an even trade, for the adventures I claimed.

Here’s to the confidence of my youth, invincible, immortal, and a force to reckon with.

Here’s to the confidence I miss, lost somewhere along the path of my life, my mind split.

Here’s to the days ahead.  Here’s to the past.  And here’s to you.

Here’s to the days ahead, through and through, good or bad, they’ll stand true.

The glass is nearly empty now but don’t worry, don’t fret.

Here’s to this crazy ride we call life and always trying our best.

The bottle, and I’ve no qualms about pouring it all, is still mostly full.

Here’s to the two sides to every coin, and the edge too, because it is all part of the whole.

So, I’ll pause for a moment to refill my cup, and I won’t spill a drop.

Then I’ll raise the glass once more before I stop,

“Here’s to the words, wherever they may lead.

Here’s to the words I need and the words I bleed.

Here’s to the words I keep to myself, tucked away.

Here’s to the words I give away, day after day.” 



Two lakes, side by side
Called twins, but not to the naked eye
Nestled beneath towering Sierra cliffs
Peaceful, serene, and ready for a dip
They are part of what calls to me
“Come, adventure, live, see.”

Two lakes, side by side
Called twins, but not to the naked eye
They greet me when I arrive
I can hear them when I try
Close your eyes and listen for their whisper
“Come, live, see, adventure.”

Two lakes, side by side
Called twins, but not to the naked eye
Like guardians to the high mountains beyond
They’ll let you pass if you can hear their song
Always, always, I hear their tantalizing hum
“Adventure, live, see, come.”

Two lakes, side by side
Called twins, but not to the naked eye
Their call does not come without a cost
But do not fret, lay your worries on their cross
The mountains can take as well as they give
“Come, adventure, see, live.”