Maybe, they told me. Maybe.
For stretches, for weeks, it’s a same old day,
but my brain starts to hum whenever I remember,
Maybe, it tells me. Maybe today.
.
.
Oh! The anticipation! Will it be? Won’t it? It’s like waiting for lottery numbers to be drawn.
I don’t understand
why you choose to be blind,
wrap the mask across your eyes,
I don’t know if you realize that hell is lined
with those who chose not to see the bullies,
who tear apart school yards, countries, and economies.
I hope your misguided vote is overwhelmed by kinder souls,
who are not manipulated by lies, who put on a helm and smote
the evil despot, those who decide to keep our country whole.
There was something.
There was something in that bombastic laugh
that set a tingle up my spine,
something not quite right that climbed out from behind your eyes,
incised the benefit of the doubt.
There was something that kept me holding back
long before your strange attack.
Perhaps my intuition,
just knew it wasn’t safe to trust?
equity shares
reflect inequity
equity dreams
reflect iniquity
equity seems
a dream to be
“I want a wood fire,” she sighed.
“Go light a match on the porch,” he said,
“and never say I don’t support
your dreams.”
.
.
.
Oh, the sarcasm! But since they don’t have a fireplace in their house, I guess this is the best that could be managed.
Oh
the expression of distraught incredulity
on the dog’s face as
a tantalizing utensil travels above his head
on the way to the sink,
instead of to his dish.
Your jar of pickled poems–
cheek puckering poetry,
sour smiles behind glass–
makes me laugh.
.
.
.
My students handed in their poetry collections today. Among them is a jar with poems written on green pickle shaped papers. 🙂 Bethany wins cutest poetry project. Too bad it wasn’t a contest. (Hmm. Maybe next year?!)
I wonder why
you can defrost everything in the freezer
if you leave it slightly open for an hour,
but a turkey left to thaw for days in the fridge
stays frozen solid?
She studies his torso,
surveys lines and curves,
tracks
sinews
. and
. flesh,
melts,
wishes she was butter:
s p r e a d o u t ,
simmering,
glistening
in those crevices,
turning into warm caramel
within his embrace.
Shawn L. Bird 
poem- amazing? October 14, 2015
Tags: amazing, comment, irony, observation, poem, poetry, sarcasm
When you said my outfits are always amazing
did you mean they cause great surprise?
or that they leave you in wonder
or that you find them astonishing?
I’m not sure it’s good that you think I dress
in ways that are astonishing, astounding,
surprising, stunning, staggering, shocking,
startling, stupefying, breathtaking;
awesome, awe-inspiring, sensational,
remarkable, spectacular, stupendous,
phenomenal, extraordinary, incredible,
unbelievable; mind-blowing, jaw-dropping;
or wondrous.
Was your comment verbal irony?
or have I tipped the scales into weirdness?
I’m sure I’m not really so startlingly impressive.
But if you truly think so,
Thanks.
I guess.
.
.
.
Someone I admire made this comment at an event, and while I took it as a compliment, I pondered that one can disguise true opinion in the flexibilities of English! What is irony but a twist of meaning? With thanks to the Google dictionary for this one.
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