Sonny Rainshine

Beds - Poem by Sonny Rainshine

So much is about beds.
My father’s sickbed
became his deathbed.

When I had my appendix out,
I heard the nurse’s new name for me:
Bed Number Two.

My roommate, Bed Number One,
complained unceasingly about
his assigned bed and wanted mine.

Until I was seven
I wet my bed. My brother said
I did in on purpose.

Even when we fall in love,
what do we do?
We go to bed.

My mother said:
You made your bed,
now lie in it.

Then she said:
Life is no bed
of roses, ole pal.

Beds, then,
are nothing but trouble.
When it gets warm
maybe I’ll sleep on the grass.

Comments about Beds by Sonny Rainshine

  • (7/11/2006 2:00:00 AM)

    That's quite interesting..but me 2 loves my bed! !

    (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • (5/5/2006 9:44:00 AM)

    Good point well made, but oh man do I love my bed. (Report) Reply

  • (4/9/2006 7:16:00 AM)

    Lets bed down for the night and watch the stars on this site, stars like Duncan (Report) Reply

  • Lizzy Tomlinson (3/26/2006 6:32:00 AM)

    A new perspective on beds. Have you read my 'From my Bed'. Lizzy. (Report) Reply

Read all 4 comments »

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?

Poem Submitted: Sunday, March 26, 2006

[Report Error]