Just a small poem.
“I Make My Bed Sideways”
By Anastasia Willis
My eyes see forests,
in the corner.
Black lace flowers,
Climb my wall.
Primary colors,
Burn the mourner.
The black stemmed rose,
Is much too tall.
I build wits,
For those without.
The next to last,
In a long-term study.
Some came with whispers,
Others shout.
It’s sometimes funny,
What we consider duty.
I make my bed sideways.
For a sideways
Bed can be,
A sofa’s seat,
For two or three.
Now you’ve come,
Into my lair.
Come inside,
Taste the air.
We do have,
A small admission.
Prepare the patient,
For his brain transfusion.
A sideways bed can be a sugery table.
Bring a map,
It’s twelve by eighteen feet,
Of maze,
Of terror.
My mind without,
Cover,
To hide my error.
Hypnotic, it,
Is, isn’t it?
Intelligent life,
Piled in corners.
No, they’re
Inanimate.
Bring more paper,
She’s torn her’s.
I make my bed sideways.
What a curious,
Feeling here.
They’re not alive,
You’re sure?
They seem to leer.
They move about,
In the back,
Of my eye,
In that stack!
I hear skittering,
Over there!
Don’t climb off the bed,
They can’t get here.
A sideways bed can be a liferaft, or a bunker.
Do you wish to leave,
So soon?
You came at ten,
It’s only noon.
Well, feel free,
I won’t keep you.
Please leave a,
DNA sample at the door.
Isn’t this a nice,
Brain stew?
Let’s get you up,
Come now, off the floor.
You’ll come again.
I know you will.
It was odd, certainly,
But not unpleasant.
You can’t forget,
Though you try still,
A princess dressed down,
As a peasant.
Any girl can be a princess in a ballroom. A true princess can be a princess falling down stairs.
By Anastasia Willis
My eyes see forests,
in the corner.
Black lace flowers,
Climb my wall.
Primary colors,
Burn the mourner.
The black stemmed rose,
Is much too tall.
I build wits,
For those without.
The next to last,
In a long-term study.
Some came with whispers,
Others shout.
It’s sometimes funny,
What we consider duty.
I make my bed sideways.
For a sideways
Bed can be,
A sofa’s seat,
For two or three.
Now you’ve come,
Into my lair.
Come inside,
Taste the air.
We do have,
A small admission.
Prepare the patient,
For his brain transfusion.
A sideways bed can be a sugery table.
Bring a map,
It’s twelve by eighteen feet,
Of maze,
Of terror.
My mind without,
Cover,
To hide my error.
Hypnotic, it,
Is, isn’t it?
Intelligent life,
Piled in corners.
No, they’re
Inanimate.
Bring more paper,
She’s torn her’s.
I make my bed sideways.
What a curious,
Feeling here.
They’re not alive,
You’re sure?
They seem to leer.
They move about,
In the back,
Of my eye,
In that stack!
I hear skittering,
Over there!
Don’t climb off the bed,
They can’t get here.
A sideways bed can be a liferaft, or a bunker.
Do you wish to leave,
So soon?
You came at ten,
It’s only noon.
Well, feel free,
I won’t keep you.
Please leave a,
DNA sample at the door.
Isn’t this a nice,
Brain stew?
Let’s get you up,
Come now, off the floor.
You’ll come again.
I know you will.
It was odd, certainly,
But not unpleasant.
You can’t forget,
Though you try still,
A princess dressed down,
As a peasant.
Any girl can be a princess in a ballroom. A true princess can be a princess falling down stairs.