Tales of an Old Bed

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Tales of an Old Bed

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She lay peacefully asleep

Her chest heaving softly it

Would have been heaven


Every time she turned

The sound of my scream was almost unbearable

Everything was loud

The room crowded with pieces

 Of me, my brothers and sisters


It was a masterpiece

The end products of his carpentry

He looked exhausted

Eyes focused, a thin sweat

On his shinning forehead


His every move was calculated

As he cut me into manageable pieces

Now am just an old bed

She lies on heavenly

But I find myself screeching


I could be the source of the oxygen she breathes

Had he not cut me down

By Mary Muthoni

Mary is a passionate Veterinarian. Other than making the lives of animals better, she also enjoys writing poems. You can connect with her on Twitter.

Why I added the poetry flare.

Sometimes, a lot of words cannot be able to convey a message. When it comes to poetry, for those who choose to understand it, these are words, spoken/written in an expressive way. Poetry thinks outside the box. With poetry, you think between the lines. As Carl Sandburg plainly put’s it,

‘Poetry is the journal of a sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air.’

Featured Image Credit.

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Vicki Wangui
Vicki Wangui
Vicki Wangui is a believer in all things beautiful. A believer in spreading information in regards to environmental awareness. A believer in sharing all that is good in Kenya's natural world. A believer in speaking truth with no boundaries. Do you have a story, photo, experience or message you need to share? Send your work to vicki@nyikasilika.org or vickiwangui26@gmail.com.

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