The scent of dinner,
Your favourite,
brings you back to life,
calls you from beyond
in a gush of anguish.
Oh, I long to look
into your sparkling eyes,
and serve you soup.
poem- possible May 11, 2016
There are possibilities in front of you
Opportunities unbounded
By anything
but your determination.
Nothing will happen if you attempt nothing
But something can happen if you do some
Thing–
Any
Thing–
To embrace what might be
Possible.
poem-evacuated May 10, 2016
The city is empty
save for the fire fighters.
Lines of vehicles
………….. ………wind past
………………………. ………wind through
………………………..wind by
devouring walls of flame
fanned by wind;
neighbourhoods empty
except for the crackle
of destruction.
poem- old words May 9, 2016
Sometimes it’s clear
there wasn’t much to say.
Some days words are woven into tapestries
of vivid hues and diamond bright
But other days words are wrapped around night,
just vast blackness,
nothing for a reader to hold onto
to pull themselves into the light.
poem-failing May 8, 2016
New griefs
Still alive
but failing
dropping pieces of yourself
behind you
abilities drip away
and we face a new you
seemingly oblivious to
this reality
poem- new sage May 7, 2016
Life
floats nine months,
then makes its way
crushed for thirty long hours,
squeezed from under the heart of things
past the blood red fire, riding the drumbeat
of love into shining
light.
.
.
(For Saige, Martina, & Jared)
poem-later May 5, 2016
Tap tap
Oh?
Mmm,
No B. O.
Hmm?
Big guns!
Big guns?
Yo!
No.
Oh?
No.
No?
No.
Oh.
`
poem-realities May 4, 2016
It’s hard to love you
when you shred me,
slice my skin on the sharp tips
of those needle teeth.
It’s hard to love you
when you track mud,
make puddles, and leave
stinking pellets behind you.
It’s hard to love you
but your eyes twinkle,
and your tail wags
and you keep trying to climb into my lap
It’s hard to love you
but the hard things are worthwhile.
I’m building a love story
with training and time.
poem- bloom May 3, 2016
There is a certain futility
in buds blooming in a vase,
but undeniable beauty
bursting open without hope
of bearing fruit.
Shawn L. Bird 