David Harris

(18 June 1945 / Bradfield, England)

Bed


The spider weaves silk for its web;
birds gather twigs to make their bed.
We just go down to the furniture store
and pick whatever we choose.
Dogs and Cats curl up on a matt
making sure they hog the fire
while it seems we sit a mile away
and in the cold, shiver.

22 October 2009

Submitted: Thursday, October 22, 2009
Edited: Sunday, February 13, 2011

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Bed by David Harris )

Enter the verification code :

  • Patti Masterman (10/22/2009 11:37:00 AM)

    Ha, this is so true! You have the great gift of observation, while I get so caught up
    in my own mind's strings that I forget to notice important things. Animals are comfort-seeking missiles, for sure..(smile) (Report) Reply

Read all 2 comments »

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

New Poems

  1. Heebie-jeebie, lee fones
  2. Street Urchin, Babatunde Aremu
  3. Shake Loose my Skin, Angela Khristin Brown
  4. Street Culture, Angela Khristin Brown
  5. 1969, Angela Khristin Brown
  6. Reap & Sow, Angela Khristin Brown
  7. Save The Girl Child Of India, Bijay Kant Dubey
  8. Martin Luther King Jr., Angela Khristin Brown
  9. Marvin Gaye, Angela Khristin Brown
  10. 42, Angela Khristin Brown

Poem of the Day

poet Emily Dickinson

239

"Heaven"—is what I cannot reach!
The Apple on the Tree—
Provided it do hopeless—hang—
That—"Heaven" is—to Me!

...... Read complete »

 

Modern Poem

poet John Burroughs

 

Member Poem

[Hata Bildir]