Shawn L. Bird

Original poetry, commentary, and fiction. All copyrights reserved.

poem- absent May 19, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:06 pm
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I have

no

words left.

.

I have

no

tears left.

.

I have

no

fears left

.

I have

no

thing left.

.

.

.

Just playing with forms, here.  Don’t fret. 🙂

 

poem- startle May 18, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 4:31 pm
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No sneaking

No whispers

No clandestine act

Engine patters

Garage door rumbles

Back door slams

Yet a happy greeting yields hours of anxieties.

Something is not working here.

 

poem-critique May 17, 2015

Filed under: Poetry,Writing — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:39 pm
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I love the simplicity

of this collection,

but it’s

bordering on saccharine

almost

syrup on my waffles,

but not

quite.

.

.

(I had an official poetry critique by a famous writer/poet today.   I have never had my poetry critiqued by anyone ‘in the biz.’  This is the summary of the observations on the 20 or so love poems submitted.  😉  Apparently I should aim to be a *bit* edgier.  I think this is quite wonderful, actually).

 

Writers’ Festival musings

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 4:27 pm
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I’m home after 3 days of hanging out with talented writers, still-not-acknowledging-they’re-writers-but-wishing-to-be, and lots of lovely volunteers, readers, and so on that fill a writers’ festival’s workshops and events.

If you have never attended a writing festival, here’s what goes on at the best of them, in my experience:

  • lots of talking to others at various stages of the writing journey
  • celebrations of writing successes
  • envy of writing successes
  • dreaming of writing successes
  • strategies to develop confident approaches to one’s work
  • strategies to be a stronger writer
  • strategies for selling one’s work
  • opportunities to gain feedback on one’s writing through ‘blue pencil’ sessions
  • inspiration to take the risk of submitting one’s work
  • inspiration to finish projects
  • laughter
  • empty pockets due to book purchases
  • joy at growing one’s signed book collection

A few years ago, Sylvia Taylor told me that the writing life is about reaching down and reaching up.  We share what we’ve learned and pull someone just beginning up to greater skill and confidence.  We sit at the feet of masters and are stretched to grow a little more.  A conference is a great source for this.

Sometimes, conferences yield contracts.  (Surrey http://www.siwc.ca is particularly good for this).

Usually, conferences yield contacts.  New friends and introductions to publishers/agents/editors are not uncommon.

If you haven’t been to a conference, take the leap.  There is something for all levels to learn.  At the very least, being with ‘your tribe’ is a wonderful thing.  Who else can relate to your habit of writing all night?  (Charles De Lint, Diana Gabaldon, and I all write after midnight.  We’re not alone!)  Who else can appreciate the voices in your head that you need to record?  Who else can offer tips and suggestions to move your project along?  Who else appreciates the significance of a ‘send the full manuscript’ in response to a query?  Who else really knows about this mystical journey to make worlds out of nothing but imagination and words?  Where else do you belong?

I took a few things out of this year’s Word on the Lake.  I attended a workshop by Anne De Grace on Writing Critique Groups.  I have wished to be part of such a group for a long time, but hadn’t formulated the vision.  This gave me concrete ideas.  I kept my eyes open, and approached the first person I thought would also find value in such a group and be an asset.  She agreed.  So we will keep our eyes open for a third, and see where it goes.

 

poem-filled May 16, 2015

I’m filled with words

Your words.

My words.

Our words.

A story concocted in laughter.

A story unraveling fears.

A story exploding conjecture.

A story that brings forth your tears.

I am filled with our words

softly spoken

I am filled with our words

shouted loud

I am filled with our words

barely whispered

I am filled with our words

lacking sounds.

Your words.

My words.

Our

story.

.

.

Enjoying a lovely weekend with amazing authors like Charles De Lint, Kathryn Para, Anne De Grace at the Word on the Lake Writers’ Festival.  Collected a lovely certificate and cheque for a writing contest prize, as well. 🙂

 

poem- so May 15, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 5:42 pm
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and so she searches in silence,

on tips of toes wanders

wakeful through the dark

thoughts

troubled determination

dragging her toward the

treasure

she will never find.

 

poem- crowded May 14, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 4:20 pm
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It’s crowded

in my head

No room for tunes

or truth festooned

across your bed

It’s crowded.

 

poem-rushing May 13, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:53 pm
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DSCN1592[1]

.

Water rushing,

whispering journey,

rippling over rocks

hurrying yearning

for shimmering

ocean.

.

(This water colour painting is half of a pair by Valerie Rogers)

 

poem-message May 12, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:30 am

(Got an email from my husband this morning, advising me that he had a late meeting and would be arriving home an hour later than usual.  Here is my reply, for your entertainment).

Oh no!

Oh woe!

How will I manage?

What will do?

How can I be

Without you?

Weep!

Cry!

Howl!

Sigh…

‘ 

‘ 

‘ 

‘ 

‘ 

(Okay. See you when you get there).

>>smooch<<

 

poem-tryst May 11, 2015

Filed under: Poetry,poodles — Shawn L. Bird @ 5:18 pm
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He cries when you sees you,

low whimpers of delight.

His frailness is endearing

if it doesn’t keep you up at night.

He rubs his head against you

he murmurs adoration

When you scratch behind his ears

his tail waves in celebration.

His love is pure and when he looks

so deeply in your eyes

You know these daily trysts

will last until he dies.

.

.

(and if he’s as old as my boy is, that may not be as long as one would hope).