Treasure Island

Ruth Walters

(London, U.K.)

A cold bed


Cold insecurity
now slept on, feels sharp
in the morning light.

Fear takes a hold,
her eyes deepen
her worries multiply.

White sheets
are no protection
as she delays getting up.

Pondering, fretting,
she can't put a stopper
in debt.

The letterbox bangs,
startlingly harsh
as her children stir.

She shudders
as the final demands
hit the hallway floor.

Submitted: Thursday, October 11, 2012
Edited: Sunday, June 15, 2014

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Topic(s): Life

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Comments about this poem (A cold bed by Ruth Walters )

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  • Bri Edwards (4/24/2014 10:49:00 PM)

    something about the title attracted me again today (maybe because i'm getting tired and the bed is usually pretty cool these days when i hop into it) , but i see i commented already, last year. so on to another poem.
    bri :) (Report) Reply

  • Bri Edwards (9/6/2013 6:22:00 PM)

    i liked Sj Holland's comment. i have been more fortunate in life. and i find red sheets protect better. or was that black sheets? being in the black couldn't hurt. thanks for sharing. bri (Report) Reply

  • Sj Holland (6/22/2013 2:13:00 PM)

    Wow, Ruth! I felt every stabbing, terrifying feeling. I have been in that position, though I had only 1 child and never had a letterbox in the door. I was so depressed once (and at that time didn't understand about depression) that I did not get up until 5: 00pm that day.

    Your poem is shudderingly realistic. I like the length of your stanzas. Each one is like a story in itself, and I did read again; two or three times. You did an excellent job with your format, as it relates to the atmosphere you wanted to convey. This verse almost has a staccato tempo, like the trials of life. Sometimes they just keep coming in rhythmic succession. (Report) Reply

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