Invitation to Poetry: Rumpled Sheets

Welcome to another poetry party and you are invited to participate.  This is my third installment, you can click to see the first and second ones.   I shared the other day about the freedom a messy spirituality is inviting me to and my dream of rumpled sheets.  Then over the weekend there was this brilliant moment when the sun was illuminating my sheets and I captured it in the photo below.

What does the image evoke for you?  What words are stirred?  I invite you to share your poems (maybe you even want to try a Pantoum?), thoughts, quotes, or song lyrics in the comments and then I will add them to the body of the post with a link back to your blog if you have one.

Also, feel free to cross-post your poem on your own blog and include the photo below with a link back here.

Rumpled sheets remind me of the amniotic sac that we all emerge from.
We are held in the darkness of our dreams and emerge to a new life every day.
-Kathy Flugel Stone

*****

“Lay it down,
Set it free.
Let my heart rest,
And let it be.”
-Karen Drucker

(contributed by Suz Reaney)

*****

French Pantoum by Cre8Tiva

come lie in my arms for a while
on this glorious sun-filled day
as we dream of nothing and everything
from now till the month of may

on this glorious sun-filled day
we can ride the clouds to the moon
from now till the month of may
or perhaps to the last of june

we can ride the clouds to the moon
as we dream of nothing and everything
or perhaps to the last of june
come lie in my arms for a while

-Rebecca Parsons

*****

intimate

lucy

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Memories of you stay with me
rising like the honeyed scent of sun warmed clover.
With gentle hands I begin to smooth the dappled landscape of rumpled sheets.
Such sweet sweet dreams dear one!
-Cheryl MacPherson

*****

Silent whispers breathe a name, unfold
Upon the rumpled cloth of gold.

I watch and wait. The morning sun now warm
Streams through the open window where you left
A drooping rose, a distant memory
Of what was once. And now, bereft

Of what could be, I kneel and pray
That no matter what, or where you are
The part of you that holds onto my soul
Will live on and think upon this day.

Kievas Fargo

*****

beneath the sheets
on my feathery pillow
creative stillness
only the sound of freedom
in the wings of my dreams

Bette Norcross Wappner (b’oki)
a tanka poem

*****

RUMPLED SHEETS

The landscape of dreams begins
with the genius of cool,
crisp sheets freshly laundered,
tightly drawn across the bed.
Leading us to comfort,
imposing order on our night
despite the chaos of the day.
Sending us to travel
where our feet cannot take us,
but moving us along the path
to where our hearts can dance and
make a rumpled mess of cool,
crisp sheets, freshly laundered
tightly drawn across the bed…
no more.

-Rich Murray at Pilgrim Path
*****

Golden Glow

Looking back over my shoulder
I catch a glimpse of the sunlight
on golden shafts,
illuminating the sheets.

God’s grace,
imparting a blessing,
a consecration of the love
still lingering in rumpled sheets.

On this peaceful morning,
my heart is also aglow
with gratitude for small moments
that add up to a lifetime of love.

-Pamela McCauley

*****

Friday Night Saturday Morning

Parts of the whole, in God’s embrace
Dancing candlelight, smooth sheets and music
Loving and laughing in intimate grace
Friday sleeping and dreaming of life

Dancing candlelight, smooth sheets and music
Mommy!  Daddy!  Wake up!  Wake up!
Friday sleeping and dreaming of life
Saturday sunlight streams on the sheets

Mommy!  Daddy!  Wake up!  Wake up!
Loving and laughing in intimate grace
Giggling, bouncing on rumpled sheets
Parts of the whole in God’s embrace

Singing Owl

*****

I Celebrate the Two of You
(For Caleb and Kameron)

In praise of friendship
And the fun it invents
And the messes it forgives
And the company it brings
And the soul it confirms
I celebrate the two of you.

In praise of love
And love’s wild forces
And love’s adventurous spirit
And love’s healing touches
And love’s never-ending mysteries
I celebrate the two of you.

In praise of laughter
And the silliness it shares
And the cheer it births
And the pleasure it releases
And the intimacy it brings
I celebrate the two of you.

In praise of tears
And the bonding they construct
And the mending they perform
And the grace they offer
And the humanity they reveal
I celebrate the two of you.

In praise of marriage
And the work it requires
And the connections it builds
And the maturing it inspires
And the dreams it completes
I celebrate the two of you.

© 2007 Timothy Moody
*****

I lay beneath golden mountains of dreams
divided by chasms of snores.
Morning’s light creeps across the peaks
to kiss my face gently awake.

No, no, not yet, I’ve not finished, no please.
I’ve just another story to dream.
It’s warm and it’s safe and it’s sweet in this place
and I am not ready to wake.

But the bright light demands that I GET UP RIGHT NOW
Start the day, do the chores, meet the needs
of the family who hangs on my every strength, every breath
and my night time renewal is gone.

……still….through the day I carry about a sweet smile
my secret safe carried within
of my nightly climbs through the golden dream mountains
where I know I will travel tonight.

Presbyterian Gal

*****

I was taught
hospital corners and
fluffed pillows and
a neatly pulled-up bedspread
was how you started your day.
Routines. Organization.
Security.
Life.

I grew up
and said,
“The bed will just get rumpled tonight!
why bother?” and
sloppiness seemed to work.
Kinda.
sorta.
maybe?

And now?
The rumpled parts of me and
those which sometimes straighten up
and fly right
are more comfortable and
less neat around the edges.
Unless, of course,
guests come.
And then the hospital corners come back.

What I have learned along the way
is that REAL friends
come and bounce on the bed
and rumple up the sheets
once more.

Deb
Rumpled
But extended grace
and Grateful.

-Deb Vaughn at Another Unfinished Symphony

*****

Just enough chaos, inviting, calls me…
Naptime comes too seldom.
Constrained by other’s expectations
(and hospital corners)
I long for my own rumpled bed.

-Anne Sims at Stories and Faith

*****

The Sun breaks through the window
streaming across my bed
reminding me of God’s awesome love

As I lie
and reflect on the light of the world,
I am thankful
for the little things
in life
even rumpled sheets
that capture the wonder
of the light of the world!

-Tara at Praying on the Prairie

*****

Rumpled sheets ~
these are my favorite.
The hundreds of washing make
them soft and pliable.
These are the sheets that snuggle around us,
caressing our bare, night-time skin,
lulling us into sleep.
They hold our dreams and our fears,
our restlessness and our loves.
But only used, softened sheets can become authentically rumpled.
Thank goodness for the used parts of our lives!

-Cathleen at Back Road Journey

*****

urban, summery–full of hope
these sheets look slept-in but
surface appearances sometimes deceive

slept-in, rolled up in, or crumpled
from restless, too lonely nights?
now the bed is empty
oh, you know the pain’s not in sleeping alone
sometimes a bed to myself feels “just right”
empty bed and starless dark sky
like almost every other early dawn

I’m in the kitchen waiting for daybreak
expecting the surge of hope each new day reveals
as intricate colors unfold, often surprise

I won’t return to the rumpled bed ’til
its welcoming invitation
at end o’day
to pull the quilt over the covers
around my shoulders and wait again for
dreams I’ll dare make true this time

-Leah at Desert Spirit’s Fire

*****

She stood
rapidly crossed the room
dressed

smoothing her hair
before crossing
back
back to the bed

furtively
she smoothed the sheets

and then
caressed by the early morning light

she left

-Lorna at See-Through Faith

*****

The sheets held me womblike last night.
You thrashed beside me, ran down your dreams.
Our great-grandparents made love, gave birth, died, in one bed.
The death rate is low under fluorescent hospital lights.

You thrashed beside me, ran down your dreams.
We die, together, most nights. We awaken in the morning.
The death rate is low under fluorescent hospital lights.
But there is more than one type of death.

We die, together, most nights. We awaken in the morning.
Our great-grandparents made love, gave birth, died, in one bed.
But there is more than one type of death.
The sheets held me womblike last night.

-A Pantoum by Sue from Discombobula

*****

Your wonderful poems absolutely make my day, so keep sending them in and I’ll keep posting them!

-Christine Valters Paintner @ Abbey of the Arts

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