Shawn L. Bird

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

poem-Mother’s Day humility May 14, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:44 pm
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Looking forward to seeing you this weekend!

the mother wrote.

The greeting card holidays remind children

of filial duties.

Without them, would they ever call?

Text message comes mid-day:

Happy Mother’s Day.

An opening!

Mother replies,

When will we see you?

No response.

Cat’s in the Cradle.

.

Sacrifice.  Care.   Tuition bills.  Sick beds.   Pain.

And here,

A lesson in humility.

It’s strange how

Happy Mother’s Day

can feel a lot like

F-you.

A greeting card sentiment,

leaves a slashing wound,

sliced by a weapon wielded in a war

she didn’t know had been declared.

There had been no need to

clean the vase,

dress up for the surprise

brunch,

lunch,

dinner,

visit?

or even stay home to hang around the phone

so as not to disappoint

the kids

who call to wish

Happy Mothers’ Day.

.

.

.

(I’ve got a short story in my brain, but we’ll start with this.)

 

poem- not May 11, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:05 am
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I am not enough

to fill the void.

A yawning maw,

a gaping hole,

inadequacy piled upon inadequacy

overwhelms

and I

do not have the mass

to shore up against this tide

of weakness compounded

year after year until they got here.

I am battered.

I am broken.

I am not enough.

 

poem-blood and stone May 10, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:47 am
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They say

you can’t get blood from a stone,

but there you are

grinding

and bleeding from the effort.

There you are

releasing your hard heart

and weeping change.

Oh sure,

 

it hurts to be stoned

It’ll kill you, if the impact

hits the right place,

but a bloody stone

is only a reminder

of your strength.

Stones were once mountains

Worn by time and pressure

your mountain has become a stone,

and from your tight grip

drips

blood.

 

poem- shaped May 9, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:50 am
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Your portion of this landscape

reinterprets the shape

follows the lines

but makes them into

something new.

Microcosm makes

macrocosm.

.

.

.

Current project in art class.  Each student has a square that contains a scene up close, but when assembled with others, reveals a larger scene (or in this class, spells out the initials of the school.

 

 

 

poem-stranded May 8, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:29 pm
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I wanted to go.

I raced out the door.

It’s been a horrible week but it’s over

and I’m coming home to you at last!

Then the signs.

Prepare to stop.

 

We waited

waited

waited

waited

waited

until the flagger said,

“No one is getting through tonight.”

Highways in all directions sealed

like a disaster movie.

Creeks washed out.

Head-on collision.

Mud-slide.

Avalanche.

The truckers lined up for miles.

I’m tucked up in a hotel with a good book,

safe and dry,

but I’d rather be home

with you.

.

.

.

True story.  But it could have been worse!  On one side of the slide was the bride; the groom and family were sharing a hotel with me.  A story for their grandkids!  My commute is usually 22 minutes, but it was 22 hours this time.

 

poem-point of view May 5, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:39 am
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So often

what I think is a conversation about me

you think is a conversation about you.

My feelings

aren’t just feelings, they’re an attack.

But they’re not.

They belong to me

and they’re allowed to be

what they are.

I long for you to acknowledge

how I feel

what I wonder

what I want

isolated from your sense

of inadequacy.

I’m tired

tired

tired of your issue

always overshadowing

any of my concerns.

Mental illness

is annoyingly

narcissistic.

Please consider other points of view.

It isn’t always about you.

Really.

Sometimes it’s about me.

 

poem-surprises May 4, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 4:12 pm
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It still surprises me

To uncover these weaknesses

You try to so hard to cover

With bombast and bomb blasts.

Acting out to hide insecurity

Inability

And the itching awareness that

You don’t measure up.

Your brain doesn’t quite hold onto

the words

the meanings

The feelings fill you up

Fear

Frustration

Anger.

Why?

WHY!

Just because

is not enough answer.

Why?

Chemistry.

Biology.

Nature?  Nurture?

Better just say

“Because”

You didn’t win the lottery

And everything will be harder.

You’re pushing at the pull door.

But if you quit pushing against it

embrace your responsibility

For your own life,

Take it

I know it will go

Far more smoothly

For you.

You are so much stronger

than you believe

you are.

We just have to pull together.

 

poem- The Bird by Patrick Lane April 28, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:08 pm
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From The Collected Poems of Patrick Lane (Harbour Publishing, 2011)

The Bird

The bird you captured is dead.

I told you it would die

but you would not learn

from my telling.  You wanted

to cage a bird in your hands

and learn to fly.

.

Listen again.

You must not handle birds.

They cannot fly through your fingers.

You are not a nest

and a feather is

not made of blood and bone.

.

Only words

can fly for you like birds

on the wall of the sun.

A bird is a poem

that talks of the end of cages.

.

I’m attending a poetry retreat with Patrick Lane this summer, so I’ve been reading his work.  I’m looking forward to the opportunity to study with him!

 

 

poem- something new April 27, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:45 pm
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There is something new in the air

A faint scent of possibility

that wafts past unexpectedly.

There is something making me

wonder about continuity

and what’s coming to be.

 

poem- stretching April 26, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:37 am
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Some days

I feel like a little kid standing against a ruler:

“You must be this tall to ride.”

Stretching beyond all comfort,

but still coming up

short.