Lockbed Monster

They call me the Lockbed Monster,
With grippy pincers like a lobster.
Stripped of my blankets, I’ll still clamp,
Adhered to bed just like a stamp.

Sun may rise but not my eyelids
As I increase my REM mileage.
Bells and whistles, they won’t do it.
Marching band? I’ll sleep right through it.

A lion roaring in my face?
Twenty elephants in a race?
Through clash and clamor, I won’t surrender,
Locked happily in horizontal splendor.

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3 comments

  1. Lisa · January 24, 2014

    I can relate with this kind of “monster”. Guessing you do too! Great job on this one

  2. Aunt Celia · January 24, 2014

    Long overdue. Enjoyed it emmensely!

  3. Lisa · April 21, 2014

    Really like the entire poem, so creative. It was so fun I reread it several times.
    Looking forward to more of your writings.

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