Shawn L. Bird

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

quote- write anyway August 25, 2013

Filed under: Quotations,Writing — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:51 am
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Another quotation from Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird,

I tell my students that the odds of their getting published  and of it bringing them financial security, peace of mind, and even joy are probably not that great.  Ruin, hysteria, bad skin, unsightly tics, ugly financial problems, maybe; but to write anyway.  But I try to make sure they understand that writing and even getting good at it, and having books and stories and articles publishes, will not open the doors that most of them hope for.  It will not make them well.  It will not give them the feeling that the world has finally validated  their parking tickets, that they have in fact finally arrived.  My writer friends, and they are legion, do not go around beaming with quiet feelings of contentment.  Most of them go around with haunted, abused, surprised looks on their faces, like lab dogs on whom very personal deodorant sprays have been tested. (p. xxx)

lol.  This one rings true.  🙂  However, whenever I get a note from someone who has read and loved my novels or a compliment about my poetry, it feels quite marvelous!

 

poem- weak longevity August 24, 2013

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:34 am
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My father age twenty-five.

his desires divided,

stood in line with naked men

waiting for the army to welcome them.

They listened to his slow, weak heart,

and said he’d stay home to do his part.

My father age twenty-five

managed to stay alive.

While his friends went off to foreign shores,

at home he built bombers for the war.

His friends returned broken and stayed,

with their damaged mates from their brigades.

Dad was whole and grieved the loss

of friendships torn by life or death.

On the decades rolled

and now each soul

who stood entwined within that line

is gone, save dad, whose slow, frail heart

turned out to be his strongest part.

Dad thinks back upon that line,

and celebrates birthday ninety-nine.

 

poem- stealth August 23, 2013

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:40 am
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Beware! After nail

clipping, the poodles are running

in stealth mode.

 

quote- the act is the reward August 21, 2013

Filed under: Quotations,Writing — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:57 pm
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Anne Lamott, in the introduction to her book Bird by Bird says,

Writing has so much give, so much to teach, so many surprises.  That thing you had to force yourself to do–the actual act of writing–turns out to be the best part.  It’s like discovering that while you thought you need the tea ceremony for the caffeine, what you really needed was the tea ceremony.  The act of writing turns out to be its own reward.

What do you think about this idea?  I know that I see more clearly when I notice the light playing on the fields when I think about how I can best capture the moment in a poem.  I know that when I create a scene between characters, it feels like my imaginary friends are just telling me about their day.  I know that I see everything as a story or a poem, but I’m not sure that the act of sitting down and typing brings me anything beyond satisfaction.  It’s not stitching together heart break (though it has).  It’s not helping me make sense of a challenging situation (but it has).  I know a supreme satisfaction from enjoying the result, but it’s discovering that result that brings it. Hmm.

How about you?  Is the act of writing its own reward for you?  Why?

 

poem- horse light

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:17 am
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Light is galloping across the hills

Glistening  roan, bay, and dun.

Splotches of palomino and skewbald

reflect the canter of the clouds

across the sun.

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©2012 Michael Russell Used with permission.  If you love this image, you should check out Michael’s gallery!

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The light was so fantastic above Kalamalka Lake on the drive home today.  I wish I’d had a camera to capture the long light, and gleaming fields of gold, russet, and brown above the lake!  Words will have to do, though Michael Russell’s beautiful photo will give you an idea of the hills and the cantering clouds, at least!

 

Hey there, new followers! August 19, 2013

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:17 pm

Again there are a lot of new followers (several hundred in the last couple of weeks). Especially if I’m not following you get, please let me know you’re here!

Shawn L. Bird's avatarShawn L. Bird

I recently noticed that I have several hundred new followers, and I’m sure that many of you are writers with your own blogs.

Please take a moment and introduce yourself and your blog in the comment section below ↓ ↓ ↓ ↓ ↓  so I can check out your blog, too!  It’s nice to follow back other bloggers and share the love, but if you don’t comment, I never know you’re here.

I look forward to meeting you! 🙂

 

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much ado in English class!

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:13 pm

Here’s some fun for you! Last year’s Eng 9 class playing with Shakespeare. Have a chuckle!

Shawn L. Bird's avatarShawn L. Bird

Just for fun, here is an interpretation of Act Two of Much Ado About Nothing by a group of my linear English 9 class.  They did a good job with it, and I have to say, I love Don John! ;-P

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found poem- nature nostalgia August 18, 2013

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:40 pm
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It’s been a while since I went hunting for a found poem.  Here is one using single lines or phrases found on the WordPress Blog roll under the topic of poetry between noon and 1:00 Pacific today, August 18, 2013. Each line of the poem comes from a different poem.  If you find a line from your work, please link to it in the comments!

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Lessons in bird song

like it was our world.

Art of revelation-

something more than me-

more temperamental-

heart of a warm sky,

My soul is

a glorious riot of frogs-

threads of raindrops-

transitory life.

Fear and pain

tied artificial limbs together.

Your words float

my infinity,

a drawn sword.

Twilight comes

shadows litter roadways

waiting to be discovered.

You lay here wanting

the new heaven

like a sinner sees God.

I danced a lone waltz

The women break

philosophical dreams

amid the forest wild.

Hope was an ever-blossoming flower

where dreams are made.

I caress your face

tear my soaring wings.

Everything in my head went quiet

a flute for the wind’s mouth.

She is the music

holding hands with my future nostalgia.

Let’s not be the ones who sleep with no dreams.

Beauty sits in itself,

one word for freedom,

the child that I used to be-

an archipelago of memories.

Pain needs no name,

exploring all its mysteries.

The sun touched your face,

passion

exuding her scent

never to grow old,

petals falling from a rose.

This thought ought to be true

like tree roots’

perennial embrace.

.

What I like about found poetry is the juxtaposition that comes.  The pronouns change, and while some fit seamlessly, others jar you, and you have to consider why it works (or doesn’t, as you perceive it!).  Sometimes a line catches you and holds you, and you have to ponder.  The meaning weaves from stolen images, like Frankenstein’s monster.

 

poem-great at eight (For Rachael) August 17, 2013

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 4:10 pm
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You’re eight

and in your mind you’re great

Your dreams are there within your grasp

You clasp them tight and know

that as you grow

You’ll meet each goal

Your soul desires

Until someone you admire says, “No!

You don’t have talent,

you can not do

what your dreams are telling you.”

If you believe these sorry words

If you accept this worry heard

If you allow your dreams to die

if you sigh, and don’t ask why

then I suppose you wield the sword

that kills your dreams.

The naysayers set it in your hand

but they can’t swing it.

So throw down the sword,

hold tight to dreams that stir you in the night!

Those dreams that feel so right,

that make you mighty, those dreams

to sing, to act, to write!

Practise each day, to hone your craft

in every way, no matter what the naysayers say!

Opportunity looks like hard work.

Luck is believing you are lucky.

Practice makes perfect.

You will move past eight, and if not yet great,

Just wait!

.

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This poem grew out of a Twitter conversation.  Diana Gabaldon said that she knew when she was 8 that she should be a novelist (she went on to earn a Masters in marine biology and a PhD in ecology before she got around to trying, though).  I was 8 when I started writing stories, sharing them in school, and dreaming of being a writer. Rachael Hofford said that when she was 8 she was told by her teacher that she had no talent for writing and that she should give up that idea.  As an English teacher, I know first hand that some of my students who dream of writing aren’t very good, but the only way for them to get better is to read and to write.  Practicing their writing by emulating the best that they read  will teach them the skills to become good writers.  Maybe they lack a spark of genius, but it may come later with life experience.  If it doesn’t, there are still many writers who do well telling a story.  Don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t.  You may have to work very hard, and you’ll need some luck as well, but your dream is just as possible as anyone else’s.

 

Sesame Street- Sons of Poetry August 16, 2013

Filed under: fun,Poetry,video — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:45 pm
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I have to show this to my English classes on Poetry Friday next year. lol

The Sons of Poetry aren’t quite as efficient as Rhymezone.com, but they’re much more entertaining!

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