Midnight sun
your bright glow
matches my summer soul.
Midday night
your sky indigo
I hibernate and am made whole
Northern land
that journey long ago
taught me a heart has many homes.
.
.
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A rumination on my Rotary youth exchange year in Finland.
Do you have a place that changed your philosophy and perspective? Share your poetry or leave a comment about it at https://shawnbird.com/poetic-diversity-project/
We’d love to hear your voice!
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The welcome words
happy greetings,
shrieks and engulfing hugs,
cool nods,
teasing jokes.
Everywhere I turn
delight.
It is nice to be missed,
but nicer to be back.
.
.
.
(First day back to work after breaking my ankle. Staff and students made me feel a bit like a rock star this morning with their enthusiasm.)
The birds return
set sights on sites and sing
in fervor with that mating thing
You take to the road
push pedals for a hundred k
while I wait for petals,
seek something to say
and all of these are just the way
we mark each new spring.
Me. You. New.
too.
.
.
POETS! You are cordially invited to contribute an original poem or link to https://shawnbird.com/poetic-diversity-project/ Today’s exploration- POEMS OF PLACE. Please feel free to comment instead, about your environment and how it contributes to your writing.
They’re hiding out at Huyter’s House
amid tutus and two by twos.
Keren constructs costumes and walls
Her production can not stall
(though reproduction’s done, y’all).
Garage transformed to costume shop
Gladly reformed for custom stops.
Accost tutus and two by twos,
Keren will hand a hammer to you!
.
.
.
(For my amazing friend Keren, of Huyter’s House of Costumes, because the dance studio productions don’t really care whether the new sewing room is finished or not!) 🙂
It may not
be what it was,
but it is
what it is
and what
it will be
.
.
.
(This was actually the last sentence in a response I wrote tonight on in a grad school assignment. I thought it made a rather intriguing little poem, so here it is).
love
tolerance
dutiful service
.
love
tolerance
dutiful service
She’s waiting for the words
he will not say.
She’s waiting for the words
he should not say.
She’s waiting for the words
he does not say.
She’s waiting for the words
he could not say.
She’s waiting for the words
he can not say.
She’s waiting for the words.
Once,
next to my hair salon of choice,
there was an amazing jewelry store.
Before an appointment,
I’d peruse the sparkling wares,
and occasionally I’d be captivated,
to leave a great percentage
of my pay cheque there,
in exchange for lasting, glistening baubles.
Now,
next to my hair salon of choice,
these is an amazing chocolate store.
Before an appointment,
I peruse the creamy, sweet wares,
and always I am captivated,
to leave a small percentage
of my pay cheque there,
in exchange for momentary ecstasy on my tongue.
She moves one
tiny foot in front of the other,
embracing her future,
present and past.
Shawn L. Bird 