Goose Feather Down
A comfortable king size bed,
to rest my body and heavy head.
with stuffing of goose feather down,
Silky soft and luxurious all round.
My pillow is so cushy light,
Happy dreams each and every night.
Related quotes
Pillow
I try to get comfortable in my bed
But there's always something wrong
with the pillow ‘neath my head.
It's either too warm or sometimes too cold.
I turn it, pummel it
Then toss it aside instead.
But then I miss it and can't decide
Shall I grab it again
Or count to ten?
How can I sleep with no support?
My neck gets stiff. My eyes won't close
And all because of the pillow I chose.
Maybe I need a silk pillowcase,
one that's fringed with fancy lace.
Or maybe it's not the pillow to blame.
Maybe it's my head that's not the same.
It's filled with words and melodies
That makes my pillow hard to please.
I'll try to get comfortable again tonight.
It's my head on that pillow
or a pillow fight.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Political Economy
'I beg you to note,' said a Man to a Goose,
As he plucked from her bosom the plumage all loose,
'That pillows and cushions of feathers and beds
As warm as maids' hearts and as soft as their heads,
Increase of life's comforts the general sum
Which raises the standard of living.' 'Come, come,'
The Goose said, impatiently, 'tell me or cease,
How that is of any advantage to geese.'
'What, what!' said the man-'you are very obtuse!
Consumption no profit to those who produce?
No good to accrue to Supply from a grand
Progressive expansion, all round, of Demand?
Luxurious habits no benefit bring
To those who purvey the luxurious thing?
Consider, I pray you, my friend, how the growth
Of luxury promises-' 'Promises,' quoth
The sufferer, 'what?-to what course is it pledged
To pay me for being so often defledged?'
'Accustomed'-this notion the plucker expressed
As he ripped out a handful of down from her breast
'To one kind of luxury, people soon yearn
For others and ever for others in turn;
And the man who to-night on your feathers will rest,
His mutton or bacon or beef to digest,
His hunger to-morrow will wish to assuage
By dining on goose with a dressing of sage.'
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Between me and the moon
Between me and the moon
My secrets unfold
My dreams rolled out
Like a curled up mat
Lulled by the softness
Of a goose feathered pillow
I lay down my head
And stretch out like a cat
In the hopes of dreams
To whisk me away
On a magic carpet
To far away lands
Where palm trees
Surround me and
coconuts fall, my feet
buried in silky soft sands
Sweet scented gardenias
I adorn in my hair as a
Pink and orange sunset
brightens the sky
Only as I sleep
In my fairytale land
Can I spread my wings
Above the clouds I fly
Until my magic carpet arrives
All none to soon
To take me back
Between me and the moon
poem by Priya Patel
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The Wind Is My Pillow©
The wind is my pillow upon which I lay my head,
The clouds are the down upon which I make my bed,
Together we all float in an undisturbed slumber,
Where all of the worldly woes we can disencumber.
The wind is my pillow when the day is done,
When the warmth has finished and the night's begun,
And the down around me I can enfold,
Admitting me again to that reassurance untold.
The wind is my pillow gently pushing me wide and far,
The chill of the night is blanketed by the stars,
And on we drift through a sleep of silent peace,
And once again we the chaos can release.
The wind is my pillow never knowing where I'll be,
With my eyes closed I wait to see what I will see,
Continuing to coast in a docile state of desire,
Unscathed and untouched by that which would conspire.
The wind is my pillow upon which I lay my head,
On the clouds of down I make my bed,
Pushing me gently to here and there,
Reposing once more to that place dreams will share.
poem by Joanna E. King
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After Death
IF we must part, this parting is the best:
How would you bear to lay
Your head on some warm pillow far away--
Your head, so used to lying on my breast?
But now your pillow is cold;
Your hands have flowers, and not my hands, to hold;
Upon our bed the worn bride-linen lies.
I have put the death-money upon your eyes,
So that you should not wake up in the night.
I have bound your face with white;
I have washed you, yes, with water and not with tears,--
Those arms wherein I have slept so many years,
Those feet that hastened when they came to me,
And all your body that belonged to me.
I have smoothed your dear dull hair,
And there is nothing left to say for you
And nothing left to fear or pray for you;
And I have got the rest of life to bear:
Thank God it is you, not I, who are lying there.
If I had died
And you had stood beside
This still white bed
Where the white, scented, horrible flowers are spread,--
I know the thing it is,
And I thank God that He has spared you this.
If one must bear it, thank God it was I
Who had to live and bear to see you die,
Who have to live, and bear to see you dead.
You will have nothing of it all to bear:
You will not even know that in your bed
You lie alone. You will not miss my head
Beside you on the pillow: you will rest
So soft in the grave you will not miss my breast.
But I--but I--Your pillow and your place--
And only the darkness laid against my face,
And only my anguish pressed against my side--
Thank God, thank God, that it was you who died!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Afraid To Sleep
We slept in this room together but now youre gone
And its so quiet I turn the tv on
We lived in this room together we painted the walls
Now time doesnt stand still
It crawls
And Im afraid to sleep
Cuz if I do I dream of you
And dreams are always deep
On the pillow where I weep
I never realized how much I was in love with you
Until you started sleeping with someone new
Last night I dreamed again and you were there
You kissed my face you touched my hair
And Im afraid to sleep
Cuz if I do I dream of you
And dreams are always deep
On the pillow where I weep
Lying alone in the darkness with a memory in my head
Theres a big hole where my heart is
And a lonely feeling rollin round my bed
And Im afraid to sleep
Cuz if I do I dream of you
Im afraid to sleep
Cuz if I do I dream of you
And dreams are always deep
On the pillow where I weep
On the pillow where I weep
Im afraid to sleep.
song performed by by Dido
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So Soft
Held in your arms in the back seat,
Cruising down the main street,
How can anyone have such little defense?
You're soft.
In between the sheets, left in limbo,
Covered me like the pillow
I can hardly tell the difference.
You're soft,
So soft.
To be, to be with you
I'd leave everything.
But I don't know how to deal with you.
I swear you'd fall like a feather if I was cruel.
Love would melt me like hot butter.
You're soft,
So soft.
To be, to be with you
I'd do anything.
Walking down the street, brushing arms,
You're moonlight dancing.
I try hard to keep my feelings in.
You're soft.
Dancing to the music, so low.
I knead you like dough.
How can anyone be so loving
And soft,
So soft?
To be, to be with you
I'd leave everything.
But I don't know how to deal with you.
I swear you'd fall like a feather if I was cruel.
You melt me like hot butter.
You're soft,
So soft.
To be, to be with you
I'd do anything.
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pillow Time
Theres a wonderland for alice
Theres a tall beanstalk for jack
The sleepy train will take you there
So safely down the track
With the sandman at the throttle
Youll be off to dreams and back
Its pillow time again
You will meet all your storybook friends
As you go down mother goose lane
Romp with jack and jill
Up and down the hill
And try to put humpty together again
Close your sleepy eyes and listen
While we take a little hop
The candy whistles blowin
Dont you miss your station stop
So good night my wee way fairer
Pleasant dreams to you, oh tot
Its pillow time again
You will meet all your storybook friends
As you go down mother goose lane
Romp with jack and jill, up and down the hill
And try to put humpty together again
Close your sleepy eyes and listen
While we take a little hop
The candy whistles blowin
Dont you miss your station stop
So good night my wee way fairer
Pleasant dreams to you, oh tot
Its pillow time again
Its pillow time agian...
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fergus And The Druid
Fergus. This whole day have I followed in the rocks,
And you have changed and flowed from shape to shape,
First as a raven on whose ancient wings
Scarcely a feather lingered, then you seemed
A weasel moving on from stone to stone,
And now at last you wear a human shape,
A thin grey man half lost in gathering night.
Druid. What would you, king of the proud Red Branch kings?
Fergus. This would I Say, most wise of living souls:
Young subtle Conchubar sat close by me
When I gave judgment, and his words were wise,
And what to me was burden without end,
To him seemed easy, So I laid the crown
Upon his head to cast away my sorrow.
Druid. What would you, king of the proud Red Branch kings?
Fergus. A king and proud! and that is my despair.
I feast amid my people on the hill,
And pace the woods, and drive my chariot-wheels
In the white border of the murmuring sea;
And still I feel the crown upon my head
Druid. What would you, Fergus?
Fergus. Be no more a king
But learn the dreaming wisdom that is yours.
Druid. Look on my thin grey hair and hollow cheeks
And on these hands that may not lift the sword,
This body trembling like a wind-blown reed.
No woman's loved me, no man sought my help.
Fergus. A king is but a foolish labourer
Who wastes his blood to be another's dream.
Druid. Take, if you must, this little bag of dreams;
Unloose the cord, and they will wrap you round.
Fergus. I See my life go drifting like a river
From change to change; I have been many things --
A green drop in the surge, a gleam of light
Upon a sword, a fir-tree on a hill,
An old slave grinding at a heavy quern,
A king sitting upon a chair of gold --
And all these things were wonderful and great;
But now I have grown nothing, knowing all.
Ah! Druid, Druid, how great webs of sorrow
Lay hidden in the small slate-coloured thing!
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Be Light as a Feather
be light as a feather
do not go for a heavy face
or a heart that stores
sorrows
be not overwhelmed with
grief
these burdens
pull you towards the
grave
be light as a feather
be blown by the winds of change
into some happier lands
hover, drift, float
empty your mind
and heart
be so light as a new thought
that bewilders you
into another
comforting
fantasy
be light as a feather
have a good ride in air...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hole In My Head
Hole in my head
hole in my head
I need a boy like you like a hole in my head
I need a boy like you like a hole in my head
Let's just say we will and then don't instead
Wild goose chase
Wild goose chase
You're gonna take me boy on a wild goose chase
You're gonna take me boy on a wild goose chase
You better find somebody to take my place
You took my imagination and stomped it inthe ground
Now I can only think about you
chasin' the tracks that you left around
Hole in my head
hole in my head
Oh I need a boy like you like a hole in my head
I need a boy like you like a hole in my head
You make me feel so bad that I wish I was dead
Let the games begin
Yeah here I go again
I'm never gonna win
It must have knocked me crazy
it must have hit me hard
People must think I'm lazy
Like my shuffle's short
of playing a card
Wild goose chase
Wild goose chase
Oh I need a boy like you
like a wild goose chase
I need a boy like you
like a wild goose chase
You better find somebody to take my place
Let the games begin
Yeah here I go again
I need a boy like you (I need a boy like you)
I need a boy like you (I need a boy like you)
I need a boy like you
Like a hole in my head
Hole in my head
Hole in my head
Hole in my head
Hole in my head
Like a hole in my head
I need a boy like you (I need a boy like you)
I need a boy like you (I need a boy like you)
song performed by by Dixie Chicks from Fly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stanzas To A Hindoo Air
Oh! my lonely--lonely--lonely--Pillow!
Where is my lover? where is my lover?
Is it his bark which my dreary dreams discover?
Far--far away! and alone along the billow?
Oh! my lonely-lonely-lonely-Pillow!
Why must my head ache where his gentle brow lay?
How the long night flags lovelessly and slowly,
And my head droops over thee like the willow!
Oh! thou, my sad and solitary Pillow!
Send me kind dreams to keep my heart from breaking,
In return for the tears I shed upon thee waking;
Let me not die till he comes back o'er the billow.
Then if thou wilt--no more my lonely Pillow,
In one embrace let these arms again enfold him,
And then expire of the joy-but to behold him!
Oh! my lone bosom!-oh! my lonely Pillow!
I slept with a Virgin Beggar-Maid
It's a Starry night and I was bit drunk.
I saw the run away Rabbit from the Moon
And it's drowning in the milky way.
The poor queen; her ramshackle castle on the pavement,
She quietly sleeps and I count her ribs.
The broken-plastered Crown shines in the darkness.
Her flimsy nightdress transparent and it's very comfortable,
I rest on the soft pillow of her warm bosom.
Her skinny breast full of compassion and the prominent dark nipples
Like sharp blades tickle my haunted soul.
I touched her soft spoken heart with my wounded index finger
But she was fast asleep after her strenuous beggary.
I heard the ruling King's gossips who was disguised as a lunatic
And trespassed in our premises.
I woke up to a siren of a city Ambulance and realized it's a dream.
My beloved wife groans aside of me and I tried to imagine her smiley face,
But in reality, I would never get an opportunity to see her saintly face again.
To my friends Sandra, Dave, Max, Jerry & Alison, George and rest of all!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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He who eats of the king's goose will void a feather forty years after.
The Old Trundle-Bed
O the old trundle-bed where I slept when a boy!
What canopied king might not covet the joy?
The glory and peace of that slumber of mine,
Like a long, gracious rest in the bosom divine:
The quaint, homely couch, hidden close from the light,
But daintily drawn from its hiding at night.
O a nest of delight, from the foot to the head,
Was the queer little, clear little, old trundle-bed!
O the old trundle-bed, where I wondering saw
The stars through the window, and listened with awe
To the sigh of the winds as they tremblingly crept
Through the trees where the robin so restlessly slept:
Where I heard the low, murmurous chirp of the wren,
And the katydid listlessly chirrup again,
Till my fancies grew faint and were drowsily led
Through the maze of the dreams of the old trundle bed.
O the old trundle-bed! O the old trundle-bed!
With its plump little pillow, and old-fashioned spread;
Its snowy-white sheets, and the blankets above,
Smoothed down and tucked round with the touches of love;
The voice of my mother to lull me to sleep
With the old fairy-stories my memories keep
Still fresh as the lilies that bloom o'er the head
Once bowed o'er my own in the old trundle-bed.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Perhaps I Am Just Tired
at first
i may feel sorry for you
it does not linger somehow
there is no ash in my forehead
on a second thought
i feel proud of myself for having told you the truth
we can be blessings
in disguises having given you pain
at night when i am all alone
i think about it
i feel like a bow
life size
with all strength that i have mustered
i shoot you in that darkest night of your life
i feel the speed
it is more godly or godlike
there is divine contempt in me
but with all my good intentions
i tell myself
it is all for you....for you...all for you.
when i did it, i never thought of a name or a face
i did not even think of myself.
last night i rest my head on a pillow
i had a very sound sleep....perhaps i am just tired.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Tiny and timid star
One night in my dream i saw a timid and tiny star in sky.
I asked it why it was not so bright,
It told me i am happy within why you think i am tiny and timid,
Everything that shines is not happy within,
I am living cool and peaceful life,
far away from evil and vice,
To shine and become big i will have to loose my might,
I love my lord and i am happy and content
too far by my size and by my light
I asked it why i am not like you
i am not able to be happy within, it told me that you are like me
that's why you don't shine and twinkle,
you remain sad and unhappy like my size and shine
because you are good within,
you are an honest and good soul,
you didn't betrayed anybody
, I asked it again why no body is happy with me,
everybody i feel is against me,
why iam feeling i am trapped in conspir'acy,
they are playing tricks against me,
to prove me bad mad and unworthy,
I can't do anything for me,
It told me that you will one day
will be relieved from all these allegations indeed.
I gave it thanks and i came to understand that,
it was not tiny and timid....
poem by Hemu Gupta
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Cant Get It Out Of My Head
Midnight on the water.
I saw the oceans daughter.
Walking on a waves chicane,
Staring as she called my name.
And I cant get it out of my head,
No, I cant get it out of my head.
Now my old world is gone for dead
cos I cant get it out of my head.
Breakdown on the shoreline,
Cant move, its an ebbtide.
Morning dont get here till night,
Searching for her silver light.
And I cant get it out of my head,
No, I cant get it out of my head.
Now my old world is gone for dead
cos I cant get it out of my head, no no.
Bank job in the city.
Robin hood and william tell and ivanhoe and lancelot, they dont envy me.
Sitting till the sun goes down,
In dreams the world keep going round and round.
And I cant get it out of my head,
No, I cant get it out of my head.
Now my old world is gone for dead
cos I cant get it out of my head, no no.
No, I cant get it out of my head,
No, I cant get it out of my head.
Now my old world is gone for dead
cos I cant get it out of my head, no no no no.
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pillow Monster Magically Transforms
Pillow Monster magically gets so big
he has magical powers, he never worked out in the gym.
Pillow Monster now has sweet memories,
memories of the Krendoll characters so sweet.
Pillow Monster can't figure out why he feels so happy inside,
he now has a colorful outfit with a bigger tie,
Pillow Monster is so happy he has a new magical life.
Transformed Pillow Monster is what the neighbors think,
they see Pillow Monster so happy to be alive,
Pillow Monster is so happy for he can't deny,
Pillow Monster gets so big, tears came to his eyes.
Pillow Monster gets bigger and bigger; but he makes it outside
Outside to see the sunshine, he is no longer inside.
Then it rains and makes a lot of mud,
Pillow Monster doesn't mind if he gets stuck.
Stuck in the mud goes Pillow Monster Toe,
then his friend Hamburger Helper Hand—
helps him because he understands
how excited Pillow Monster is to get so Big…
big like the biggest Pillow Monster that had magically grown,
Magical like Pinocchio's very Long nose.
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pillow Monster Magically Transforms
Pillow Monster magically gets so big
he has magical powers, he never worked out in the gym.
Pillow Monster now has sweet memories,
memories of the Krendoll characters so sweet.
Pillow Monster can't figure out why he feels so happy inside,
he now has a colorful outfit with a bigger tie,
Pillow Monster is so happy he has a new magical life.
Transformed Pillow Monster is what the neighbors think,
they see Pillow Monster so happy to be alive,
Pillow Monster is so happy for he can't deny,
Pillow Monster gets so big, tears came to his eyes.
Pillow Monster gets bigger and bigger; but he makes it outside
Outside to see the sunshine, he is no longer inside.
Then it rains and makes a lot of mud,
Pillow Monster doesn't mind if he gets stuck.
Stuck in the mud goes Pillow Monster Toe,
then his friend Hamburger Helper Hand—
helps him because he understands…
how excited Pillow Monster is to get so Big…
big like the biggest Pillow Monster that had magically grown,
Magical like Pinocchio's very Long nose.
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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