"bedsit" poems
My life is a spiral of debt and despair
The pressure upon me is too much to bear
So I sit in my bedsit surrounded by bills
In one hand a bottle, the other, some pills
And I think to myself, has it really come to "this"?
I cant live with the shame of the things that occured
It was not meant to happen, I give you my word
Now I stand on the cliff and look down at the sea
And it feels like the only way out for me
And I think to myself, how did it ever come to "this"?
I once had a job and life was so sweet
Then it all went wrong and now I live on the street
I've fallen so far that I beg with a cup
My life is worth nothing, nothing to give up
And I think to myself, how can I carry on like "this"?
Think not of the why or the hows or the pain
There are people to help you start over again
There are friends out there that you've yet to meet
Who's purpose in life to give you new feet
To stand on your own and start over again
just so that you know "this" is not how it ends
Aug 5, 2010
Aug 5, 2010 at 5:11 PM UTC
She counted the night away
the neon street lights disappaiting,
sitting on her grandmothers crocheted bed cover
her pink knickers hid her body wide goosebumps,
the froid unheated bedsit
plied with her emotional turmoil,
vexed boyfriend and always tomorrow.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 2:48 PM UTC
Poem a day, day 8
Pressure creates urgency
It can evoke action
Or cause immobility
I wait til the edge
Of my deadline
And make myself do it
Sometimes it flows naturally
Forcing me to stop second guessing
Then there's today
Late for bed
Keeping others up in our bedsit
Waiting... Blank
**** pressure
Can't focus
What am I doing?
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 3:28 PM UTC
Yes! It's another Barry Hodges "Memories" poem!"
I shall never forget our first date together,
How we wandered through the streets of Soho,
Gazing into the **** shop windows,
Laughing at the giant vibrators on display...
And later, a romantic meal in a French bistro,
Where the rules of hygiene were not
As strictly observed as might have been hoped for,
Promising a regurgitatory treat in store...
You ignored the startled eyes of our fellow diners
And brutally shoved your tongue in my mouth;
O how fiercely I slurped on it enthusiastically
Caressing it with my own mouth sausage...
I ****** and ****** and ****** and ******
And (oh joy!) I could taste the garlicky bits
'Twixt your gorgeous unwashed choppers;
How my underwear damply stretched out of shape...
I withdrew my probing tongue and kissed your cheek
Affectionately, yet trembling with rampant desire;
And I boldly licked a firm yellow-topped spot
With its previously observed black centre...
My huge uncontrollable lust conquered
The demands of demodé bourgeois good manners
And I sunk my incisors into that zitty beauty
Relishing the hard core waiting just for me therein...
The waiting staff were deeply impressed as I chewed
In rapturous sensual joyous contemplation
And you spluttered bloodily in loving agony
Your own mighty ****** fast approaching...
Oh what a foretaste of what was to come
When we repaired to my convenient bedsit
For an immensely gratifying triple bonk
Prior to a staggering mutual diarrhoea session...
And now I lie back in sweet recollection
Of the many nights we spent in copulation
But how sad I am as, looking at the deserted bed,
I can still make out the stains of your dying turds.
Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 6:45 AM UTC
A "Memories" Poem from the great Barry Hodges' pen
I shall never forget our first date together,
How we wandered through the streets of Soho,
Gazing into the **** shop windows,
Laughing at the giant vibrators on display...
And later, a romantic meal in a French bistro,
Where the rules of hygiene were not
As strictly observed as might have been hoped for,
Promising a regurgitatory treat in store...
You ignored the startled eyes of our fellow diners
And brutally shoved your tongue in my mouth;
O how fiercely I slurped on it enthusiastically
Caressing it with my own mouth sausage...
I ****** and ****** and ****** and ******
And (oh joy!) I could taste the garlicky bits
'Twixt your gorgeous unwashed choppers;
How my underwear damply stretched out of shape...
I withdrew my probing tongue and kissed your cheek
Affectionately, yet trembling with rampant desire;
And I boldly licked a firm yellow-topped spot
With its previously observed black centre...
My huge uncontrollable lust conquered
The demands of demodé bourgeois good manners
And I sunk my incisors into that zitty beauty
Relishing the hard core waiting just for me therein...
The waiting staff were deeply impressed as I chewed
In rapturous sensual joyous contemplation
And you spluttered bloodily in loving agony
Your own mighty ****** fast approaching...
Oh what a foretaste of what was to come
When we repaired to my convenient bedsit
For an immensely gratifying triple bonk
Prior to a staggering mutual diarrhoea session.
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 10:15 AM UTC
Bedsit lights flicker
floorboards creak
the night prolongs plans
to see through the situation
An envisaged train journey to Canterbury
may just reawaken this
side of reason
realising clear thoughts
the richness of discourse
where I may visit some folk club
summarise these my questions
through a better door
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 2:52 PM UTC
even the wind chases down her cause,
sequestering at her leisure
Joanne seeks memories
beyond her highgate bedsit
she dreams of tenderness
but could never quite divulge
where it's journey ended
She thought the breeze could carry her defences
Only now, she concedes.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 5:44 PM UTC
Whispers at sunset.
Is it just ***
It's a revolution.
Sofa surfing.
Eating toast.
Pulling back front room curtains.
Enlightening.
A revolution indeed.
Revolting.
Bed space.
Head lace.
Bed hair.
Who dares.
Caring less.
Red dress.
Chucked on the floor.
Stockings.
Suspenders.
Say no more.
Sociology lessons.
Violet moods.
Awful foods.
Sunrises daily.
A million folk existing.
Existing in bedsit land.
Government hand outs.
Signing forms to claim the dole.
Once a fortnight
Stuck in a hole.
Dining on mice that dash out of holes.
Seeking slices of stale cold pizza.
Left on the side overnight.
Gasping for air.
Drowning in debt.
Living hard
Hard and fast.
Living too long.
In the zone of regret.
(c)Livvi MMXV
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 5:11 PM UTC
Nuala opens
the front door
sees Brian sitting
in his armchair
drinking a beer
smoking a cigarette
without the TV on
which is rare
you're home early
she says
entering the lounge
looking at him
brooding over
his can of beer
where'd you go?
he says
looking at her
went shopping
in town
she replies
I told you where
I was going
she sits on the sofa
uncertain
of his questioning
a mood behind it
who'd you see?
he asks
people
and shoppers
why?
she says
you saw her
didn't you?
he says
who do you mean?
she says
your friend Una
he says
Nuala blushes
naturally
before she
can try
to control it
o yes
I bumped into her
while shopping
Nuala replies
her mind panicking
why'd you kiss her?
he asks
his eyes studying
her features
kiss her?
she says
yes you kissed her
he says
women do kiss
each other
as friends
she says
on the lips?
he says
how'd you know
where I kissed her?
Nuala stands up
walks to the window
looks out
I followed you
into town
saw you both
you went off
with her
to some bedsit
and went in
he says coldly
what'd you do there?
she gazes
at the passing
people below
at the passing traffic
why'd you
follow me for?
a game at first
I was going
to surprise you
in the shops
but then
you met her
and I followed
he says
hardness
in the tone
she turns
gazes at him
what did you do
while in her bedsit?
we had coffee
and a talk
Nuala looks
away from him
stares at the people
outside again
you were there
too long just to talk
and have coffee
he says
what are you
suggesting?
she says
acting offended
gazing
back at him
something weird
going on
with you
and her
he says
they stare
at each other
a silence comes
between them
all right then
I love her
we've made love
for months now
Nuala says
her voice shaky
he reddens
and opens
his mouth
to say something
but nothing comes
**** off
to her then
get your stuff
and go
he says
after a few moments
reflecting
she looks at him
her world beginning
to unfold
and fall apart
as if someone
had pierced
her betraying heart.
Jul 23, 2016
Jul 23, 2016 at 1:45 AM UTC
He will take his coffee black
And alone, though you will observe one day
That he will sometimes, surreptitiously sweeten it
When he thinks that you aren’t looking
The bad weather of his cigarettes he always putting out
Will insinuate their way through his curls
And flavour your kitchen
In strange tastes and lingering long gone stains
He will dread his hair when he’s anxious
Fearful or caught in a bedsit lie
Fingertips finding cures for traps in
The knots and tangles of escapism
And he will smile. Absently and presently
Nodding in all the sign here dotted lines
Murmuring the correct kicked-out-of-home
Superlatives to all your wonderful, desperate ideas
Do not trust his put upon grin
Do not lose yourself in back alley, bottle-cove
Teeth flash and spark, fight or flight smiles
He will have put up this defence before
I know he refrains from cruel words and pauses
Considers his actions and dismisses his first thoughts as cruel
He will look like he’s been caught with one foot
Caught in the cookie jar open door
Just because he doesn’t say ***** doesn’t mean
He doesn’t want to.
His tongue has sculpted this word well before
And the aftermath left him as he called her and apology
This will show control, not concern
And this is measured in proven glances
Designed to test theories
And the limits of his patience
He will wait till he is tucked right into you
To let the lodger act fall
And he will say this house is his
Even if you built it
He will wear an excuse a hundred miles
Or until he is next alone, whichever get’s there last
He will not last
He will not shut the door behind him as he goes
But instead leave a cruel breeze
In the shape of abandonment
His tenancy touch will not
Ask for a deposit back
Nor will he leave you a forwarding address
For all your last warning words
Undelivered on your tongue
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 5:10 PM UTC
Nuala had left Brian,
he'd found out
about her and Una
by following her
into Dublin
and watching her
and Una meet and kiss
and followed them
back to Una's place.
Nuala knocks on
Una's bedsit door anxiously.
Una wide opened eyes
what you doing here?
what did you forget?
Una says.
Nuala is red eyed
and tearful:
I've left Brian
or rather he told
me to go,
Nuala says.
Why?
What happened?
Una says.
He followed me
into Dublin and saw us
and he guessed
that something
was going on
and we rowed
and I confessed.
She stops and stares
at the floor.
Come in,
Una says.
Nuala goes in
and Una shuts the door.
Did he follow you
back here?
Don't think so,
I didn't think,
Nuala says.
Una looks out
the window
onto the street:
can't see him.
Nuala sits on the sofa
and cries softly.
Una sits next to her:
what will you
do now?
**** knows,
can I stay here
for a few days
until I get
some where?
A few days?
You can stay as long
as you want,
if you don't mind
sharing my bed
and what I have,
Una says,
will he have
you back?
I don't want
to go back,
I want you,
Nuala says.
Una smiles:
you can stay
here of course.
Can I?
Of course,
Una says.
What if Brian comes
and causes trouble?
What about my things
I left behind?
Nuala says.
We'll go get them together,
Una says,
he didn't touch
you did he?
Nuala shakes her head:
no he never has,
not even after this,
he just said to go,
and I packed a few items
and left and got
the bus and it was
like my world
was upside down.
Una kisses her cheek,
and goes and gets
her a coffee
and chocolate cake
and says:
eat, this is
an emergency
for fecks sake.
Aug 11, 2016
Aug 11, 2016 at 2:34 AM UTC
Una's new bedsit is cramped
and has just three rooms
a bathroom and kitchen
and a main room
which she has curtained off
for a bedroom
what do you think of it?
small but cosy
Nuala says
looking about her
Una looks at her anxiously
can you stay awhile?
sure I can
is it the same bed?
no it's furnished
like the last place
I've no stuff of my own
Una says
Nuala sighs
you're a bit of a wanderer
aren't you?
have been for years
Una says
you like it?
she asks
sure if you're happy here
Una nods
and looks at the bed
have you time?
to do things?
or just a coffee and chat?
Nuala looks at the bed
and then at Una
all three if you like
she says
how's Brian?
Una asks
the same
Nuala says
I think he fancied me
Una says
he's a man
he'd fancy any girl
in a skirt and legs
and an *** on her
Nuala says
shall we?
Una says
best draw the curtains first
don't want your neighbours
gawking as we get undressed
and make love
Nuala says
Una draws the curtains across
and the room becomes dim
they begin to undress slowly
wanting to do things relaxed
and not panicky as they did
that last time at Nuala place
and Brian came home
and they had to lie still
in case he came in
and found them naked
and in bed together
they get into bed
and lie there gazing
at each other
Una says
is that Brian's love bites
on your shoulder?
yes the idjit thinks it's funny
******* my skin
Nuala says
so do you love him?
Una says
Nuala sighs
I thought I did
but I'd not do this
if I did I guess
she says
guess not
Una says
they kiss lips to lips
hands touching
holding and investigating
Una wanting to ****
Nuala's neck but doesn't
just in case Brian sees
and there's trouble
so she kisses more and more
like a wet wave
on a dry shore.
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 3:21 AM UTC
Nuala lies beside Una
in the small bed
in her bedsit
they had just had ***
and were
lying there smoking
my Ma died
Una says
I got a letter
this morning
o sorry
Nuala says
turning to look at Una
when?
last weekend
couldn't they
have said before this?
Nuala asks
no one talks with me
it was a friend
who wrote to me
and said
Una says
were you close
to your mother?
Nuala asks
no she shut me out
once she found out
I was gay
Una says
how did she died?
cancer like my Da
both heavy smokers
Una says
stubbing out
the cigarette
in the ashtray
by the bed
Nuala takes a quick puff
of her cigarette
and stubs it out
in the same ashtray
leaning across Una
they kiss
then Nuala lies back
beside her again
and hugs her
when's the funeral?
I don't know
can't go anyway
too much trouble
from the others
Una says
that's sad not going
to your ma's funeral
that's how it is
Una says
what was your mother's
last words to you?
go to hell
and she walked out
on me and slammed the door
and I left
Una says
maybe she'd forgiven you
at the end?
Nuala says
no Ma never forgot
nor forgave
she'd not do that
there is silence
birds sing from outside
hum of passing traffic
I'd best go
Brian will be wondering
where I am
Nuala says
she kisses Una's breast
and gets up
and dresses
Una watches
wishes she could stay
and comfort longer
she watches as Nuala
brushes her hair
and stares back at her
in the dressing table mirror
and mouths a kiss
to her lying in bed
and Una keeps it
captured in her hand
and to places it
in her head.
Jul 10, 2016
Jul 10, 2016 at 2:56 AM UTC
How was your day?
Nuala asks,
lying next to
her husband, Brian,
in their bed,
hoping sleep
will come quick
before he gets
to wanting to have
his end away.
Tiring and busy,
he says,
looking at her,
his eyes searching her,
where'd you go?
She looks past him
at the curtains flapping
where the top
of the window is open.
Shopping in town.
Buy anything?
Not much; few bits,
she says,
thinking of her and Una
making love in her bed
in the new bedsit,
and twice going the rounds.
Nothing for me, then?
He says smiling.
No not this time,
she says,
knowing that smile,
that I want to have you
soon kind of smile.
Haven't seen
your friend Una around?
He says.
No not since she left us,
Nuala says,
hoping Una never left
love bites on her body
anywhere; she'd not
looked since she'd
been home and got
the dinner.
Shame I liked her,
he says.
I'll get jealous,
she says.
No need,
he says,
you're my number one.
She recalls Una kissed her
almost everywhere,
and her love making her
so moist and hot.
So how about it?
He says.
About what?
She says.
Us and ***
What about us
and ***
Are you up for it?
He says smiling.
Sleepy,
she says.
A quickie?
He says,
his smile still in place.
She resigns to fate,
and so he goes
about his task;
never get,
his mother'd said,
if you don't ask.
Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 2:28 AM UTC
Brian sits
numb and waits
for his wife
to come home
he'd seen her
in Dublin
with that girl
that Una
holding hands
he knows now
where she goes
when she's out
not with him
he'd followed
her out to
see where she
went for fun
spying game
kind of thing
then she met
the blonde girl
that Una
and they kissed
he feels sick
can't believe
what he saw
then they went
off together
to some place
some bedsit
and went in
he opens
up a beer
and sips it
she was here
that Una
a while back
staying here
what's happened
to my wife?
why'd she kiss
that woman
on the lips?
is she queer?
he recalls
him and her
having hot
*** last night
she willing
lying there
having it
he sips more
of his beer
what to do?
what to say?
how long for?
and then what?
he feels sick
sits and waits
sipping beer
slips his mind
down inside
to first gear.
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 2:47 AM UTC
A week has gone,
and Nuala has not
heard from Una,
where she had gone,
or where she is.
Then just after
her husband Brian
had gone for work,
the phone rings,
and she picks it up,
and Una's voice says,
is it you Nuala?
Nuala nods
to the phone stupidly.
Yes, where are you?
Dublin, I've got
a new place,
a bedsit.
Where in Dublin?
Una tells her.
How long
you been there?
A few days,
Una replies.
Why didn't you
ring me before?
I was with a friend,
and didn't want
to worry them,
and I wanted somewhere
we could be together,
Una says.
Nuala pauses,
looks at the phone,
I was worried
about you,
she says.
Not easy finding
somewhere, and this
friend let me stay
a few days,
and I was so upset
about leaving your place,
and your husband
gawking at me
most of the time,
I couldn't
do it anymore,
Una says.
Who's your friend?
Nuala says.
A university friend,
Una says.
Did you bed her?
Nuala says
without thinking first.
No I didn't,
it's a he actually,
Una says brittlely.
Sorry I shouldn't
have said that,
I should have
trust in you,
not doubt,
Nuala says.
There is silence
on the phone.
Nuala looks
at the phone piece.
Are you still there?
she says.
Yes,
Una says,
still here;
please don't doubt me;
I'd not doubt you.
Nuala stares
at a photo of Brian
on the sideboard
next to the phone,
and turns him away
to face the wall,
I'm sorry,
I was worried about you,
and having Brian
asking questions
all the fecking time
asking where you were,
and where you went,
it got to me,
Nuala says.
When can you come?
Una asks.
This afternoon,
I can come then,
Nuala says.
You sure?
Una says.
Yes, this afternoon,
Nuala says.
I'll be ready,
Una says
in her **** voice.
The phone
goes dead.
Nuala stares at it,
and puts it back down,
and begins to cry,
and knows,
but doesn't know why.
May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 2:37 AM UTC
Slowly I walk
Heavy of foot
Mind befuddled
Black as soot
Thoughts so dark
Rocking the head
So ******* tired
I'm needing my bed.
Mile upon mile
Of cobbled stone
Cold and wet
Shivering all alone.
In bedsit land
No welcome mat
i fall asleep and
That's just that
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 7:41 PM UTC
If I ever see
what's in front of me
then I'll know it's not there
when the air shimmers.
Glimpse?
yeah glimpse is
for wimps,
but the spirit rocks me
to sleep
and in the crying comedy of
a cosmic tragedy
I dream of Troy.
Running out of time and upside down
the clock ticks on in the bedsit town
and no one beats the man.
it's a code and hard to crack
you can't move on and you can't
go back
fleeced by the shops who
pay off the cops
doughnuts don't do it for me.
they will pacify
then crucify
and you will die
unless you fight
take to the road and
learn the code
hack the system.
Aug 30, 2017
Aug 30, 2017 at 12:57 PM UTC
gulls squawk angrily on our roof
they argue about survival
forgetting they carry the souls
of drowned mariners
we argue in our bedsit
penned into a miniature life
fighting for identity
the right to be ourselves
we could be by the sea
but those angry squabbling scavengers
have never seen a wave in their lives
just gulls not seagulls
forgetting ourselves
we spar around the furniture
you are southpaw
I am orthodox
they root through *******
scattering it everywhere
no use to man nor beast
disease ridden vermin
wrapped up in life
forgetting how to fly
but we can all soar
if we ride the thermals
Apr 28, 2020
Apr 28, 2020 at 1:50 PM UTC