Tender embraces
whispers in the dawn
unveil tomorrow;
night is gone.
poem-morning December 25, 2015
Somewhere,
children are laughing
tearing wrappings
squealing gleefully.
Somewhere,
some one is dining on cold pizza
in relative contentment
absent of relatives.
Somewhere,
snow is falling,
from a moonlit sky
and light is returning
bit by bit.
poem-Christmas Eve December 24, 2015
It’s Christmas Eve and you’re not here,
There’ll never be another year
when we will feel your warm embrace
and look upon your loving face.
It’s our first Christmas without you
No wonder I am feeling blue.
poem-exorcise December 23, 2015
Pen strokes
Keyboard strikes
Ghosts exorcised by words;
Freedom found from phantoms.
New worlds
opened for exploration.
poem-burnt December 22, 2015
She’s fuchsia
purple
royal blue.
She’s wine,
emerald,
turquoise.
Everyone knows it.
But you gift burnt orange
despite having heard years
of disgusted mutterings
about orange and yellow and olive
from childhood.
Burnt orange.
Burnt.
Orange.
She ponders
Surely there is a message here?
and wonders whether you would be offended
if she dyes your gift
more than she’s offended
by burnt orange.
poem-absent December 21, 2015
I hear your voice I see your smile
I’m glad you’re here to sit a while,
but when I turn around I see
that you are only memory.
So Christmas has come and you are gone
and day by day life still goes on;
though you are free from earthy pain,
Your absence grieves my heart again.
poem-reader December 20, 2015
Perhaps, because I’m reading
Dust bunnies scamper across my floors
hiding beneath tables, gathering behind doors.
Perhaps, because I’m reading
Dishes stack into tall piles
and papers are exploding in spurts, beyond their files.
Perhaps, because I’m reading
I ignore the telephone,
but then, because I’m reading,
I’m content within my home.
poem-fakery December 19, 2015
We’ve decorated the artificial tree
The fire crackles on the TV
Holiday cards show everyone happy
People gather smiling gleefully
to celebrate festivities
and it all feels like fakery.
.
If this is meant to be
a season all about peace,
then let me sit here quietly
alone but for fictional company
the only sound, fire crackling,
and I will celebrate contentedly,
avoiding family and all their expectation of responsibility.
.
.
I am an extrovert and I generally love being out with people, but when I’m under a lot of stress, all I want to do is sit in heated comfort by myself, and spend time in the company of book friends. All the obligatory holiday hoopla just makes me grumpy and anti-social, particularly with my dad passing away this summer and my mother suffering a serious stroke a couple of weeks ago.
poem- deluded December 18, 2015
Hallucinations
Delusions
and we argue or agree,
Placate or debate,
against the injury in your brain
against frustration and pain
Face the inevitable
and wonder if you’re able
to see the irrevocable
ruination.
poem-taped December 17, 2015
Once upon a time
you sent me cassette tapes in the mail,
one sided conversations taped in the car
on your commute to the radio station,
elucidating the state of our universe
and illuminating that eternity
I was so fond of,
while people glanced from their vehicles,
confused or amused as you talked to yourself
but really me.
Once upon a time,
I talked to you,
but really myself,
elucidating the state of an imaginary universe
that would not become real,
no matter how many words wrapped around it,
or how many miles of magnetic tape professed it.
Once upon a time
we shared a fairy tale,
and when I listen to us now, I wonder that we ever believed
in the intensity of the narrative we told ourselves.
Shawn L. Bird 