Shawn L. Bird

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

poem-what has changed September 29, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:25 pm
Tags: , , , , ,

Since “me, too!” has spread,

What has changed

is that I see you differently.

I see me differently.

I hear, “She does that stuff; I’m working”

and I’m filled with fury at yet another man

who does not see what work is,

how everything he is able to do

is because his wife carries him on her back.

and I say, enough.

If we are going to be beasts of burden,

let us be more than mules with bits in our mouths.

Let us be more.

Let us be the partner who is heard.

Let the children be his concern as often as they’re ours.

Let the pink jobs and blue jobs become purple jobs

as they swirl in a kaleidoscope of

our jobs.

Our mutual obligations.

I’m glad you do the laundry and clean the kitchen,

because I hate those jobs.

Thank you for agreeing that poetry

and winding words are more important than dusting.

When your words reflect a patriarchy, I will remind you

who I am.

When my words cut, you may wrap your arms around me

and remind me that you have feelings, too.

Let’s stand as role models that being a man does not give

you rights over anyone else,

anyone else,

anyone.

Listen men, to what she says.

Keep your hands to yourself

(and other pokey bits, too).

If she says no,

Channel your unwanted urges

into art.  Wash them away in

cold showers of reality.

Let your futile frustration seethe

like generations of women seethed.

What has changed, boys?

The very air you breathe.

 

 

Concussed September 14, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:20 pm
Tags: , , , , , , ,

This concussion is a constriction

squeezing my head like a snake

hugging my eyes closed.

Light pressure. Dark daylight.

Just a little inconvenience.

 

poem- twisting September 7, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:26 pm
Tags: , , , , ,

White,

twisting,

writhing,

flashing.

Black,

sizzling,

scorching,

smiling.

Red,

faith,

courage,

blood.

Yellow

bright,

hopeful,

dreaming.

Blue

bubbling,

pushing,

pulsing.

Colour me

a turning rainbow

sensational

essence

life.

 

poem- lying to yourself September 1, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 6:49 pm
Tags: , , , , , , ,

You make it

so

inside your head.

Convince yourself

you’re right

and true.

Ask for advice,

but

debate each position

deny each observation

sputter

rant

and grumble about lack of support.

If you don’t want

to hear,

don’t ask.

If you won’t consider

perspectives,

don’t request them.

If you only want approval,

just say,

“Aren’t I great!”

and don’t be surprised

by silence.

 

poem-Crash August 29, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:57 pm
Tags: , , , ,

My head is light,

I am floating

I walk through clouds,

lightning flash,

crash.

The floor is cool

and comfortable.

The dog sniffs my face.

Why am I on the ground?

The doctor says,

feeling light headed is a signal

that you need to go low,

if you don’t do it,

your body will do it for you.

Ah.

Now I know.

 

 

poem- woof August 26, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:43 pm
Tags: , , , , ,

For National Dog Day

.

.

You jump onto the end of the bed

as I sit to remove my slippers.

Before I can lift the sheets,

you’re at home on my pillow.

You sneak a glance, to see

whether you will get to stay.

Sorry pup,

perhaps another day.

20180826_030603[1]

 

 

poem- missed August 25, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 6:23 pm
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Your eyes glow

when you see me across the room.

It’s been a long time.

You’re still wearing your heart

on your arm.

Once again,

I feel appreciation for your admiration,

awkward it’s still unrequited.

Oh, the confusion of my youthful charms.

Thank you, for

reminding me

so sweetly

who I used to be.

 

quote- the world is high school August 22, 2018

Filed under: Quotations — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:34 pm
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

“Maybe it’s better to look stupid, but strong, than it is to look smart, but weak.  I don’t know.  I not sure that I want to believe that the world stage bears that strong a resemblance to high school.”

Jim Butcher in Turn Coat.

 

poem-ghost stop August 9, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:44 pm
Tags: , , , , ,

In my old neighbourhood

I stop at a light-controlled intersection

that didn’t used to be,

On the corner

I see a glimmer of a younger me

in my safety patrol vest,

the stop sign at my back,

waiting for the whistle to spring to action

decades ago.

 

poem-wandering August 7, 2018

It is

It isn’t

Round and round

I can!

I can’t!

You do

You don’t

and trying

trying

trying

doesn’t make it easier

to pull your broken brain away

from turbulance

I don’t know you anymore

I don’t like you anymore

Loyalty keeps me doing

because I promised him

and you can’t help being broken

I know.

It is

It isn’t

Time ticks by

I try

I try

I try.