Here she comes. the big fat lump,
Her clothes come off and then she'll thump,
Her backside on my protesting frame,
I'm straining now. It's such a shame.
I'm not that old, I'm only two,
But such a lot I have been through.
She'll toss and turn and she's not light.
I groan and creak all through the night.
I feel relief, when come the dawn,
She's up and puts her clothes back on.
She'll fix my sheets and put me right,
All ready for another night.
By the way, this about my bed,
Is purely fictional, from my head.
There's not a word of it is true.
(I hope that this is fooling you) .
Thanks for your comment about my poem. I read yours (From My Bed) and enjoyed it. That's the cool thing about poetry: any subject can be approached from an infinite number of viewpoints. I'm especially fond of rhyming poetry and you have some very well-crafted rhymes in there. Good work. Usually my poems are metered and rhymed, but that form just didn't seem right for my Beds poem. Keep those poems coming. Poemhunter is a nice site-not as competitive as a lot of similiar poem posting sites I've seen out there.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
gosh..u did fool me. and made me say LoL too! Preets