The rain has stopped
Thunder in October?
The world has changed.
The wind blows off the dead,
flings pieces of forest in a mad dance
to burial & rebirth.
poem- autumn urges October 10, 2015
This melancholy restlessness
is your annual autumnal journeying urges,
your need for novelty and new scenery,
but your soul’s longing will not be resolved
at the auto auction.
Really.
poem- leaving October 9, 2015
The sky is dappled with gold
glistening spots carried in the breeze,
waltzing with the wind,
raining down upon me,
autumn leaves.
#Outlander poetry- Jamais etre pris vivant October 8, 2015
Jamais être pris vivant,
for to be martyred to a great cause
is man’s greatest achievement;
a sacrifice of love,
so say the rolls of honour,
and the government never lies.
Jamais être pris vivant,
for to return from horror
is to revisit it in dreams,
to sacrifice freedom of mind
and peaceful sleep.
Jamais être pris vivant,
for the love waiting for you
will not tolerate your absence,
will battle with the darkness
will pull you into light.
Jamais être oublié vivant,
for a life embracing love
triumphs despite nightmares,
for hope defeats death.
.
.
I just finished viewing the whole 2nd half of Outlander season one today, and then flipped back to “The Watch.” The French army toast “Never be taken alive!” seemed particularly poignant in light of Claire’s efforts to pull Jamie back from the brink, hence this poem.
poem- I’ll remember October 7, 2015
There’s a string around my finger.
The groceries are bought.
The mail is collected.
The birthday cards are mailed.
The appointments are made.
The kids are picked up.
Nothing’s forgotten.
There’s a string ’round my finger
for remembering you.
poem- resourceful October 6, 2015
I tied the sheets around the bedpost,
dropped out the window out of sight,
followed you down to the River Styx
with the water dark as night.
I leapt. You bet.
I swam against the current
bumped against all those lost souls
but I was going to find you, and I did.
I tossed a coin to the boatman as he poled along his way, I crawled into the boat
and I did say,
I told you
and I told you
and I told you.
I don’t care how black your night is
I don’t care how deep the pit
I will follow you and pull you back for air.
I will follow through the darkness
I will swim the River Styx
I will do it because that’s what marriage is.
It’s sticking when your hearts in little bits.
Kharon shrugs his shoulders, pulls us up to the next dock
He doesn’t care if we should choose to walk.
I wrap my arms around you and I drag you to the light,
because you’re too precious not to fight with all my might.
If I must be the strength then so be it,
let’s do what we can to make you fit,
I promised I’d be there for better or for worst
and Baby, I’m not driving with that hearse!
In sickness and in health, In poverty and wealth
I told you
and I told you
and I told you.
I don’t care how black your night is
I don’t care how deep the pit
I will follow you and pull you back for air.
I will follow through the darkness
I will swim the River Styx
I will do it because that’s what marriage is.
It’s sticking when your heart’s in little bits.
And I’m sticking so let’s hear no more of this.
I’m strong this time, and you’ll be fine
We all suffer those hits.
I’m strong this time, and you’ll be fine
in time.
In time.
In time.
In time, Baby you’ll be fine.
.
.
.
.
I had no idea what that was when the first lines came, but apparently it’s the lyrics to a country song about dealing with a spouse with depression. Who knew!
poem-hat October 5, 2015
If you’re going to go out in public
with your hair a disaster,
and tell me it’s okay, because you’re wearing a hat,
could you please wear a fedora or a bowler?
Something with a little panache?
A Homburg or a Panama, perhaps?
Anything but a ball cap? Because you don’t play ball,
and I don’t believe in capping potential.
.
.
He needs to spend some time at Goorin Brothers Hat Shop…
poem- gulf October 4, 2015
The gulf grows wider
as she waits for an apology
he doesn’t know is needed.
poem- just October 3, 2015
Dude,
She’s just looking for a bit of empathy,
a wrap around her shoulders whisper in her ear,
“It’ll be okay. It’s you and me together, babe” moment.
She’s just hoping for a show of affection,
a finger trailing up her arm shooting sparks,
a kiss held for long enough to know you mean it.
She’s just waiting for you to come back
from wherever it is you’ve been wandering,
just wishing for you,
so don’t call her unreasonable, dude.
Her disappointment is justified.
poem-enough
Sometimes
your discomforts must be faced;
you must force yourself to offer kindness,
look directly at weakness,
sit,
listen,
show love,
whether you really feel it or not,
because it has been shown to you
and your humanity demands
reciprocity.
Shawn L. Bird 