Oh, she’s ready
all right.
And you’ll be
regretting
that tone of voice
before the evening’s
over.
poem-wording December 8, 2014
She was told,
“You are a poet.”
She wrote,
“If only words could make it true.”
I laughed,
because of course,
only words
can
make it true.
Is there any other way
to make a poet?
poem-small December 7, 2014
It’s not small.
It overwhelms.
Unending paper piles
proliferate in the night.
A day’s work
becomes a week’s.
Somewhere under there
is order,
but it will take more
excavation.
.
.
.
I’ve been cleaning and re-organizing my office space. Made some progress after a week, but it’s not there yet. Arg.
What task do you have that seems to expand when you’re not looking?
poem- longing December 6, 2014
I light blue and white candles
bake cardamom spiced breads
and remember a home
far away.
.
.
.
Today is the 97th anniversary of Finnish independence.
hyvää itsenäisyyspäivää kaikille suomalaisille
Runo Suomeksi:
Itsenäisyyskynttilät
pulla
muistan
ja olen ikava sinulle,
Suomen maa.
,
(I was an exchange student in Finland when I was 18. I have been back a couple of times, but I’m still waiting for my Finns to come visit me in Canada!)
poem-wrapped December 5, 2014
She was wrapped up in herself
and he had a bad rap
But they were enraptured
and joys they unwrapped.
,
,
Some wordplay this afternoon, just for you!
poem-puppies December 4, 2014
Teen-agers are
loudly gregarious.
Their laughter magnified by tousles.
People who are afraid of them,
would not be, if they saw them
collapsed upon my drama room floor
giggling like so many puppies,
or arguing about their favourite authors
around the tables in the library.
Though even wolves
are adorable
when they’re little.
poem- I was sure December 3, 2014
I am sure
I told them
We are sure
Yes, we are young
We told them.
Yes, it’s been fast,
But the college is small
and we get to know people
quickly. We’ve seen each other
ten hours a day for months.
We didn’t tell them
about the ice cold walks,
holding mittened hands,
the tears,
the dreams.
We held those to ourselves.
Well, they said,
If you’re sure.
So we said I do
and I do, too
And we leapt off
a precipice
together.
.
.
.
This is the 30th anniversary of the day I met my dear man. By the summer we were married, and still are
falling.
poem-crept December 2, 2014
Quiet crept
through rustling leaves,
soft snowfall.
Quiet crept
through murmurs heard
under our hearts.
Quiet crept
through gentle touches
sweet sighs.
Quiet crept
through me
to you.
poem- and so December 1, 2014
And so your words come slowly,
squeezed like frozen toothpaste;
they do not echo;
they fall with a dull clunk.
.
And so your words come slowly
like a sail boat becalmed;
they hover over her,
dark storm on the horizon.
.
And so your words come slowly;
she watches them
approaching from the distance
like a prairie dust storm.
.
Your
.
words
.
c o m e
.
s l o w l y.
poem-cold November 30, 2014
Ice blue skies
white ground
I see the breath
of passers by.
Today I’ll hide
warmly dressed
snuggling next to you
by the fire, inside.
Shawn L. Bird 