A sudden idea
A lyric check
Practicing belting in tune
over
and
over.
Yeah.
I think I can do it.
So I’m heading off
to my first audition
in 33 years.
Let’s hope my broken ankle
was adequate preparation
to return to the stage.
poem-drift August 24, 2016
The clouds drift beneath the stars in diaphanous gowns
Frogs call to distant lovers
Chill walks through the garden
Summer’s grasp on our evenings is slipping.
poem-almost August 21, 2016
You leave silver trails behind you.
They glisten in the morning sun
like fairy roads on the concrete.
Such light from a creature that looks like dung.
poem- bother August 17, 2016
Fabric on the ground
Measure and pin.
Ah! A helper!
Sit on the fabric
Upset the pins
Give me kisses
Crawl into my lap
Production stops.
Canine cuddles provided,
into isolation you go.
Work resumes.
poem-beaming August 16, 2016
The moon is a street light
dimming the gleam of stars
while amphibian love songs
fill the summer night.
poem- tempest August 13, 2016
Swirling tides roar
Air rumbles and crackles
Bitterness rises
A stomach bent on anarchy.
poem-virtous August 12, 2016
Men waiting outside the fabric store
young men
old men
Sitting in cars, humming to the radio
Standing with a cigarette watching traffic go by
Sitting, eyes glazed.
Leaning, napping.
These are the patient men,
the blesséd men,
who wait while colours are contemplated
drape is determined
possibilities are dreamed.
These are the rewarded later men,
who chauffeur home happy wives,
smile vacantly, and say
“Yes, dear.”
thankful their wives know nothing
about the cost of tools.
poem- cleaning August 11, 2016
So many bottles
in gift baskets:
body shampoo
lotion
bath oil
bubble bath
body scrub
Why do all these people think I need
so much help to get clean?
.
.
(cleaning out the bathroom cupboards today)
poem-tranquility August 10, 2016
I count three shooting stars
as the porch swing rocks to the rhythm
of one desperately lovesick frog.
poem-geese August 7, 2016
The temperature has soared;
crowds gather on the lake
for another hot summer day,
but early this morning
I heard the geese leaving,
portents of autumn on the wind.
Shawn L. Bird 