"bunkbed" poems - Hello Poetry

So he threw all his chips on red Thought only of what was in his head Which turned out to be shots of dread For his seeds planted in young women's garden bed Without nary water or breaking bread Or nary knowing the breaches of his and her homestead So he rushed down stranger's alley shed On a runaway, wrongheaded cocky sled Through her banks, he crashed her spread Like a raging, raging thoroughbred Nary was a thought of a rubber glove on his dragonhead For the buried absence of love was in his heart of lead There's his wife at home tucking their kids in their bunkbed While he flirted with the forbidden apple instead It was this night that lives in infamy for others to read this dread For the news broke of a married man impregnating a young coed Accosting such teen to what now proves to be his deathbed Yet if he unwinds his c(l)ock and placed his chips on black he wouldn't have bled Petering out the ills in his marriage he would have been freed Now he shrivels in a shameful battle of what went through his head Logan Robertson 10/05/2018

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Oct 5, 2018

Oct 5, 2018 at 10:10 AM UTC

logan-robertson

Infidelity Blew His Life Away

So he threw all his chips on red Thought only of what was in his head Which turned out to be shots of dread For his seeds planted in young women's garden bed Without nary water or breaking bread Or nary knowing the breaches of his and her homestead So he rushed down stranger's alley shed On a runaway, wrongheaded cocky sled Through her banks, he crashed her spread Like a raging, raging thoroughbred Nary was a thought of a rubber glove on his dragonhead For the buried absence of love was in his heart of lead There's his wife at home tucking their kids in their bunkbed While he flirted with the forbidden apple instead It was this night that lives in infamy for others to read this dread For the news broke of a married man impregnating a young coed Accosting such teen to what now proves to be his deathbed Yet if he unwinds his c(l)ock and placed his chips on black he wouldn't have bled Petering out the ills in his marriage he would have been freed Now he shrivels in a shameful battle of what went through his head Logan Robertson 10/05/2018

22

Summer was ******* on sugarcane and cinnamon peels handed from your grandparents, occasionally mine when our roller-skates made love to cracks in the sidewalk our knees were drunk on its feathers so many specks of moss get caught in there, too you taught me not to cry or have that formaldehyde-chugging look until I hit the bunkbed; your sheets made my sweat look so much worse we got anything we could want. I wanted to kiss you when your wore your Popsicle lipstick, a freeze cracking the crib of your mouth and circling buzzards around. But how does a girl say she would rather have someone than a cigarette stick of candy from the ice cream man – the ones she would twirl like cherry stems and feign middle school maturity? We would whisper about things at night with the lamp off, our pants down but never ever love: love is for adults. Love is Mardi Gras in the city not powdered sugar from beignets or the kind of beads you settle around your neck. I wanted to be the bayou you swam in, cast your fishing pole at the underbelly of and counted how many seconds it took to lift back up. I wanted to be a chest you put your personal belongings in, a treasure box. Most of all, I wanted to be your personal belonging the treasure you immediately thought of – but that is not what Summer was.

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Apr 2, 2013

Apr 2, 2013 at 5:18 PM UTC

sarina

camellia drive

Summer was ******* on sugarcane and cinnamon peels handed from your grandparents, occasionally mine when our roller-skates made love to cracks in the sidewalk our knees were drunk on its feathers so many specks of moss get caught in there, too you taught me not to cry or have that formaldehyde-chugging look until I hit the bunkbed; your sheets made my sweat look so much worse we got anything we could want. I wanted to kiss you when your wore your Popsicle lipstick, a freeze cracking the crib of your mouth and circling buzzards around. But how does a girl say she would rather have someone than a cigarette stick of candy from the ice cream man – the ones she would twirl like cherry stems and feign middle school maturity? We would whisper about things at night with the lamp off, our pants down but never ever love: love is for adults. Love is Mardi Gras in the city not powdered sugar from beignets or the kind of beads you settle around your neck. I wanted to be the bayou you swam in, cast your fishing pole at the underbelly of and counted how many seconds it took to lift back up. I wanted to be a chest you put your personal belongings in, a treasure box. Most of all, I wanted to be your personal belonging the treasure you immediately thought of – but that is not what Summer was.

35

My sister karen was a manhater she hated all men deliriously she would sit on the top of the bunkbed she shared with sue and with one finger curl her hair then pull it out by the roots it was quite disturbing she would spend hours every saturday doing this until she had almost no hair left the family worried for her During the week when I would come home from school (I think I was around 7 or 8) karen (being older and bigger) would run up to me kick me in the gut push me to the floor jump on top of me grab me by the ears and pound my head on the floor until my brains fell out this went on for several weeks until I told my parents and they finally put an end to it One night sue didn't want to get caught eating an apple in bed so she put the core in the toilet and it clogged it we (all four of us) were awakened in the middle of the night and had to line up so my mother could beat us with a belt until someone confessed I was tired so I said okay I did it I got a good belting that night I was suspended from school for a week because the teacher complained that the welts on my back were bleeding so profusely that lt was interrupting the learning process of the other children One day I was coming home from school and I got caught in a hailstorm I got pelted really good Lucky for me Mr. Doty was home for lunch so I took cover under his light blue ford f-series pick-up truck hail as big as golf ***** some the size of baseballs continued to rain down I don't know for how long because I fell asleep "What were you doing under there?" he questioned as he was shaking my arm awakening me (I quess he thought I was messing around or something) I came to and stated "THE GOLF ***** WERE FALLING I NEEDED A PLACE TO HIDE" "oh" he said "you mean to tell me you were in THAT?" "yessir" I replied "well, your schoolday's almost over, maybe you should go home and rest" "yessir" And I went home and rested When karen turned eighteen she married a wife beater for nearly ten years he would ugly 'er up finally she couldn't take anymore and divorced him But she was only following tradition my grandpa beat his wife my father beat his wife and al beat karen Yep, those three knew how to really take a beating But, not from a hailstorm

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Dec 15, 2014

Dec 15, 2014 at 1:51 PM UTC

david-ehrgott

Not From a Hailstorm

My sister karen was a manhater she hated all men deliriously she would sit on the top of the bunkbed she shared with sue and with one finger curl her hair then pull it out by the roots it was quite disturbing she would spend hours every saturday doing this until she had almost no hair left the family worried for her During the week when I would come home from school (I think I was around 7 or 8) karen (being older and bigger) would run up to me kick me in the gut push me to the floor jump on top of me grab me by the ears and pound my head on the floor until my brains fell out this went on for several weeks until I told my parents and they finally put an end to it One night sue didn't want to get caught eating an apple in bed so she put the core in the toilet and it clogged it we (all four of us) were awakened in the middle of the night and had to line up so my mother could beat us with a belt until someone confessed I was tired so I said okay I did it I got a good belting that night I was suspended from school for a week because the teacher complained that the welts on my back were bleeding so profusely that lt was interrupting the learning process of the other children One day I was coming home from school and I got caught in a hailstorm I got pelted really good Lucky for me Mr. Doty was home for lunch so I took cover under his light blue ford f-series pick-up truck hail as big as golf ***** some the size of baseballs continued to rain down I don't know for how long because I fell asleep "What were you doing under there?" he questioned as he was shaking my arm awakening me (I quess he thought I was messing around or something) I came to and stated "THE GOLF ***** WERE FALLING I NEEDED A PLACE TO HIDE" "oh" he said "you mean to tell me you were in THAT?" "yessir" I replied "well, your schoolday's almost over, maybe you should go home and rest" "yessir" And I went home and rested When karen turned eighteen she married a wife beater for nearly ten years he would ugly 'er up finally she couldn't take anymore and divorced him But she was only following tradition my grandpa beat his wife my father beat his wife and al beat karen Yep, those three knew how to really take a beating But, not from a hailstorm

83

Another Tinder match supposed we hike to bromo mountain If not to suffer me neighbor country guy Where jaded is the least people be lives in a bunkbed dorm room For months and months Certified to put judgement on strangers He studies everyone But locals Talks in languages but local's He's interested in story of stragers But not my story Too local maybe One lunch in a local's I lend him lunch money He never thinks he owes me A thing He sits there on the corner Reading people's story Those whose land made By foreign spices, coal, and sweats Like me

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May 24, 2020

May 24, 2020 at 2:11 PM UTC

Genduk

Stranger who lives on bunkbed

Another Tinder match supposed we hike to bromo mountain If not to suffer me neighbor country guy Where jaded is the least people be lives in a bunkbed dorm room For months and months Certified to put judgement on strangers He studies everyone But locals Talks in languages but local's He's interested in story of stragers But not my story Too local maybe One lunch in a local's I lend him lunch money He never thinks he owes me A thing He sits there on the corner Reading people's story Those whose land made By foreign spices, coal, and sweats Like me

25

The day you broke I knew. I was asleep in a bunkbed in a campground that was all too silent. I woke to a thump I had heard on the roof and I thought maybe it's ghosts maybe it was hers. That camp was meant to cure my selfishness, I had lost my freckles my lungs my calluses it was meant to find the forest as a new health because I couldn't keep my shoulders back far enough to help myself It reminded me of your slouched posture and crying together on piano benches The day after Jess died I hated her as much as you did. I found out through a facebook post and climbed the nearest mountain. stumbled over rotten logs, ripped my pants trying to get a cell phone signal. you didn't answer. I cried for an hour because I was 300 miles away and I knew you were too. I am sorry that I ever let my mind wander into the darkness that hers fell to because I know that that could have been me 3 months before but you helped me not to. When I was trapped by darkness you were my lighthouse. Singing with you is the best I ever feel. The air that awakens my lungs at the exact moment as yours, gives me the clarity I was searching for in that campground I hope you find it too.

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Aug 5, 2014

Aug 5, 2014 at 12:45 PM UTC

bananna797

To Tristan

The day you broke I knew. I was asleep in a bunkbed in a campground that was all too silent. I woke to a thump I had heard on the roof and I thought maybe it's ghosts maybe it was hers. That camp was meant to cure my selfishness, I had lost my freckles my lungs my calluses it was meant to find the forest as a new health because I couldn't keep my shoulders back far enough to help myself It reminded me of your slouched posture and crying together on piano benches The day after Jess died I hated her as much as you did. I found out through a facebook post and climbed the nearest mountain. stumbled over rotten logs, ripped my pants trying to get a cell phone signal. you didn't answer. I cried for an hour because I was 300 miles away and I knew you were too. I am sorry that I ever let my mind wander into the darkness that hers fell to because I know that that could have been me 3 months before but you helped me not to. When I was trapped by darkness you were my lighthouse. Singing with you is the best I ever feel. The air that awakens my lungs at the exact moment as yours, gives me the clarity I was searching for in that campground I hope you find it too.

53