Shawn L. Bird

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

poem- acceptance May 30, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 7:37 pm
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Sometimes

there is no why

there simply is.

Your body

came into the world

like this.

The cancer in your family line.

The inclination to heart disease.

That birth defect.

Desperate fear

brings joy to snake oil salesmen

who’ll tell you whatever you need to hear.

Fake healers with degrees from schools of blarney.

Double blind research shows it’s no different that a placebo.

You don’t need an expensive sugar pill;

Just accept the hope

without the hype.

Believe you will get better,

and your body will believe you,

without sharing fake cures that might kill you,

without wasted dollars in fake cures flushed

away, and if your body doesn’t accept cure,

live today.

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poem- adding May 23, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 5:41 am
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Such said

This said

Opening griefs

Slamming happiness

No no no.

Embracing

unexpected dreariness

welcome solitude

The rain washes everything

clean.

 

poem-right for you May 18, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:20 pm
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For Linda, and those Fluevog Heidi boots… 🙂

.

Never felt right for me.

Sloppy here

Too tight there

Almost like they just weren’t meant to be.

Then you came along

singing those songs

inspiring me.

You made me laugh

A rough task when my brain is broken.

When we had a chance to meet

Your floral feet put right next to mine

The sky lit with possibility of

A perfect fit.

Almost as if I’d been meant to keep them safe for you

Almost as if they were waiting.

I’m waving those babies good-bye as you drive down the street.

I’m elated we had a chance to meet,

’cause those boots were plainly meant for your feet.

They’re meant for dancing to the beat

stomping on bad days,

striding places

where I was never going to take them.

I know it’s absolutely true:

Those boots were meant for you.

 

 

poem-you did it May 15, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:22 pm
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for Tai

.

You’ve always been a mountain climber.

Sometimes climbing means tumbling to the valleys.

Sometimes it means diving into sparkling mountain lakes

and becoming entangled with weeds

that pull you down.

Who knew you could drown while climbing?

You’ve always been a mountain climber.

Sometimes every part of you aches for a break,

longs for the plateau.

Rest.

But you keep climbing,

because sometimes, when you stand on the summit,

see the world laid out before you

a carpet of overcoming,

you see all the opportunity;

you see you can fly.

 

poem- small talk May 13, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:40 pm
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Sunny cashier:

“Did you have a good Mother’s Day yesterday?”

Contemplation.

Truth.

“No.”

Pause.

Longer pause.

Sunny voice: “I left the kids with the husband and

spent a lovely time on the lake. It was just what I needed!”

“Ah. Nice.

For some of us, it’s a time of grief.”

(Honesty is the best policy).

Still cheery: “Oh. Yes!”

Oh, dear.

Some of us, once safely through a horrid day,

are tripped by reminders of our private grief

in chirpy questions at a till.

When you tear open wounds,

what did you mother teach you to do?

 

 

 

poem-another day May 12, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:07 pm
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Reverberating agony

extruding writhing beasts

into the world.

Succubi at the breast,

wails in the night.

Small shrieking terrors

racing up corridors, escaping

in department stores.

Feed them. Mind them. Hold them.

Love them. Drive them.

Pimple popping, attitude rocking,

trouble stalking.

Feed them. Love them. Release them.

Celebrate them.

Wait for them.

Wonder what

went

wrong.

 

 

poem-should it be that way? May 10, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 5:23 pm
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It was a suicide.

Two weeks have passed.

“The funeral is today.

Or. Not a funeral.  A celebration of life.”

Matter-of-fact voice.

How many times had intention

shown him this path?

That prescription the only protection

against this road.

“Would you like me to come with you?”

Translation:

Let me watch you in this crowd.

See if I can read your mind.

“No. I’m going to stand. It’ll be crowded.”

Did he know,

so many people would want to be there?

Did he know,

so many people cared?

Or was he counting on them,

covering for him when

he wasn’t there?

Two paths forking off this road,

wives watching the journey,

or buried by it.

 

 

 
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