Shawn L. Bird

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

lost mother June 21, 2013

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:01 pm

She sheds memories

like dandruff

and as we brush

away the flakes of her,

she loses us.

She squints through

vast blankness with

vague intensity,

“Who are you?”

Her life drifts

in and out

on images as tenuous

as imagination.

Thus, mother transforms

into a mesh of 

our memories of her,

even as her memories

drift into fog.

.

.

.

.

I see sweet ladies at the Extended Care unit, who are lost to themselves.  So sad for them and their children.  I’m thankful that my parents both hold tightly to their memories.

 

exam time June 19, 2013

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:51 pm
Tags: , , , , , ,

The sky drips

its soggy sorrow

on students

walking into exams.

They step

out of white hazes

in expectation

(or desperation).

The sky drips

on their satisfaction

of consummation

and their sighs

of celebration

for coming

graduation.

 

faithless June 18, 2013

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:37 pm

Originally posted Nov 8, 2011. It’s nice to revisit old posts!

Shawn L. Bird's avatarShawn L. Bird

This was written from a prompt for Gooseberry Garden on Feathers, Fidelity Figment and Fables.

.

Your name is faithfulness.
Time stretched the fidelity
and you left that future,
For years t’was fueled
by the fervour of adoration,

and the declaration of forever.

Faith dripped

faintly

across forever

and fell

in fragrant furrows

of fallow hope.

View original post

 

you

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:41 pm
Tags: , , ,

Your footprints mark the dirt in your garden.

Your finger prints are on the door frame.

Your handwriting tells me we need

    Saskatoon berry jam

      potatoes

        and milk.

Your hair is tangled in your comb.

Your breath is in the bristles of your toothbrush.

Your head left its impression on your pillow.

Your scent is on your clothes in the closet.

But you

    are gone.

 

ocean angels June 17, 2013

You are a poem

that only angels know.

You move with the ocean’s pulse

waves kissing the shore

twice a day,

touching sky,

swelling with promise.

You are a poem

only the angels know,

but I am listening

for your words

on the wind,

reaching to catch

the rhythm,

in the rolling tide,

stretching to hear

the angels whisper.

You are a poem

I long to know.

 

daddy June 16, 2013

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

In honour of Father’s Day, here’s an oldie from 2010 for your enjoyment. Do you have a similar precious memory of your dad from your youth? I’m still a Daddy’s girl. How about you?

Shawn L. Bird's avatarShawn L. Bird

For Friesens and Bhatias who are grieving the loss of their fathers this week.

.

I followed behind him on the beach.

He turned with a smile and opened his arms

for me to run into

and he swung me schrieking

high into the air,

catching my laughter on the way down.

I stood on his shoulders as he

launched me into the surf

squealing and splashing.

Then screaming and thrashing

as I gulped in salt water

and my feet desperately

saught security

until his hands reached down

and pulled me into the haven

of his embrace.

View original post

 

Baby boy June 14, 2013

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:17 pm
Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

Baby boy,

blue blanket tucked into your chin,

Thumb in in mouth, jaw moving tch-tch-tch-tch.

Perfect tiny face,

an animated melon

beneath the blanket,

immersed in the sweet scent of diaper powder.

I blink.

Baby boy,

Body stretched across the mattress,

Toes draped over the edge,

blankets splayed across your waist,

whiskers bristling your chin.

Mouth agape: GRZZZZ-GRRRRZ-GrrrrrrZ

in the pungent scent of sweat.

Baby boy.

.

.

.

(Even when they’re men, their mothers see the babies they once held in their arms.)

 

Reclining Angels June 12, 2013

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:01 pm

Here’s a sonnet I originally posted February 2011.

Shawn L. Bird's avatarShawn L. Bird

 

Your warm breath blowing up against my back

can fill the night with peace and with gladness:

A deep abiding sense of happiness.

Your breath’s a metaphor that shows the fact

That nothing in the world is better than

Being held tightly by strong and loving arms

In an embrace that protects from all harm,

An embrace that assures, “I am your man.”

And when I curl into that firm embrace

And place my ice cold feet upon your shins

For that quick quivering gasp that makes me smile,

You pull me tight and tickle with your chin

A bristly kiss that shows there’s no denial.

I’m thankful for the gift of heavenly grace.

.

.

(All fixed- iambic pentameter with a solid Petrarchan rhyme scheme! 😉

Submitted as part of Jingle’s Poetry Monday potluck on Love, Romance, and Relationships: http://jinglepoetry.blogspot.com/   Potluck visitors, please put a link to your potluck…

View original post 5 more words

 

entrepreneur support June 11, 2013

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:09 am
Tags: , , , ,

My father never

passed a kid’s lemonade stand

without buying  joy.

.

.

(Having taken Food Safe, I confess that I am not as generous with stands, but I’m always good for several boxes of Girl Guide cookies, which makes little girls just as insanely happy as the lemonade entrepreneurs were left by my dad). 😉

 

ancient history June 10, 2013

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 6:00 am
Tags: , , , , , , ,

Always

wasn’t as long as I expected.

Forever

didn’t outlast  the decades.

You’re

The Colliseum,

The pyramid at Giza,

The hanging gardens of Babylonia.

You may fool the Trojans

with that horse

but you no longer

fool me.

You’re Pompeii:

buried,
a frozen moment.
 I am not
an archeologist
any more.