Friday, February 24, 2023

in bed with metaphor

The Poetry Sisters are writing ekphrastic poems today, with a wide-open option to select their artwork and write about it in any way, phrasing out their interpretation thereof as artfully as the sculpture or painting or photo was made. I'm joining in with this wee contribution. Photo by me from a walk I took on Monday in my new neighborhood.

*Mets-nous au lit

It's a bed!--
well, not a literal bed--
although in a manner of speaking
that's exactly what it is, a bed,
a garden bed garnished 
with a brass head and foot--
which are not a literal head and foot--
although in a manner of speaking 
that's exactly what they are, your head
at that end and your foot at this end--
although for most of us 
it would be two feet, about six feet 
from the brass head (not a literal head)
to the foot (not a literal foot)
of the bed (not a literal bed).
There lies a bed, both literal and not,
and who among us--seed or bulb or start--
wouldn't want to lie down in style,
nestled in the literal soil of sleep and wake?
*Put us to bed, and let us grow wise
resting in metaphor.

draft ©HM 2023

I'm looking forward to finding out what artworks the Sisters and their passel of kinfolk wrote about this month! Our host today is dear Tabatha at The Opposite of Indifference, which kind of rhymes with "joy as resistance."  Let the small things--a joke on the front lawn of a neighbor, for example--feed the joy which resists the crappy unlovely apartments across the street which house the folks who mow that lawn.



  1. Your poem is so you! I had to laugh at the repetition. I want to see a photo when the flowers are blooming. What an ironic flower bed, a literal bed. Ha!

  2. I love the playfulness and "who among us--seed or bulb or start--
    wouldn't want to lie down there in style,
    nestled in the literal soil of sleep and wake?"

  3. Margaret's right! This poem is so you and I also want to see a photo when the garden is lush and full. Will it be veggies or flowers? "let us grow wise, resting in metaphor" Love it!

  4. What fun! I love this, Heidi. This yard also looks like ours, though we have no (literal) bedstand.

  5. This was a joyful play date with words -- and then suddenly we were nestling and "resting in metaphor," and I was like, "Wait, I thought we were just playing, and now we're dropping wisdom!?" I had to stop and take a breath.

    This poem is so voice-y - it feels very much like a conversation with you, which I love. And now I also want a brass bed in my front yard (which is covered in rocks and aloe, so it would look really weird. Which might be the best part).

  6. You took a picture of a bed & flew along from head to foot with a poem offering more than a look, Heidi! I, too, will look for something later with flowers.

  7. Ha! Yes. I want to be asleep, tended to so that all I have to do is grow beautiful.

  8. Heidi, I read your post earlier but did not have time to comment until now. The bed in the yard is quite a photo. I am glad that you captured it for us. Your poem is one that I can read over and over agian.

  9. Yes, please. Put me to bed in some rich soil with seeds and bulbs and starts. Let me feel the earthworms tickle my toes. Let metaphors sprout from my belly and ripen in the summer sun.

  10. What fun! So many beds and heads and feet!

  11. Oh, I want a flower bed now! That is so sweet, and your poetry response to seeing this beauty is clever and fun.

    "and who among us--seed or bulb or start--
    wouldn't want to lie down in style,"


  12. And this, on a morning walk in a plain ol' neighborhood! So much fun! I think it calls for sneaking a little bed accessory into this garden...

  13. Ha, this made me smile and want to nestle into metaphors. :)

  14. Wonderful, love it, so intertwiningly funny in all foot and head, bed ways, thanks Heidi!


Thanks for joining in the wild rumpus!