Shawn L. Bird

Original poetry, commentary, and fiction. All copyrights reserved.

poem-serendipity March 12, 2016

Filed under: Friendship,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:29 pm
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Old friend synchronicity

Visiting one,

Another arrives out of the blue.

After forty years,

there are sympathetic vibrations

that draw us together:

joyful serendipity.

 

 

poem-vacant January 19, 2016

Filed under: Friendship,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:05 pm
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How strange

that this space that was always filled by you

is vacant now.

Some time,

I don’t know when,

you stopped paying rent and disappeared.

Now the corner where you lived

has fallen into disrepair

and when I look for what used to be

I see only

moldy fragments in the space

that was yours.

 

poem-promise September 29, 2015

Those childish promises

made with fervent belief

prove the power of intention:

Fealty sworn with hooked pinkies

in confident conviction.

 

Poem- Parts May 24, 2015

Filed under: Friendship,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:49 am
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I’m part English, part Welsh, part Prussian, part French

Diluted by experiences of generations born the ‘right’ colour.

Not even ‘No Irish need apply’ to tarnish their immigrant dream:

Canada, land of opportunity for the stalwart farming types.

Though great-grandpa was an accountant and failed at farming.

.

So who am I to comment on anyone else’s parts?

.   My great-niece: part African

.   My nephew: part First Nations

are just family.  Or 

Those friends from here and there whose colour

Was not as important as their character

Whose home culture was a matter of curiosity

Never animousity.   We were

White kids convulsing over that time at the bar

When the guy climbed into the back of Khalid’s car

convinced he was a taxi driver,

And we never considered that maybe  parts of his heart

Were incized by the stereotype he laughed off.

Because we didn’t waste time worrying about races or colours,

We were full of the wonder of all our parts racing together toward our futures.

.

.

This was created as part of an assignment in my Education of Inclusion course.  This week we’re looking at cultural inclusion and racisim.  One of the videos we watched was about ‘hyphenated Canadians’.  We were expected to comment on this, but I just don’t feel like I can say anything about what it might be like to feel caught between cultural identities, so this poem is my offering on the subject.

 

poem- box of stars December 18, 2014

Filed under: Friendship,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 5:16 pm
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I open

an innocuous box

to find a starry sky,

music for the spheres,

time travel.

I open

an innocuous box

to find sparkling stars

that make me smile

remembering.

.

.

.

and since the box contained the 25th Anniversary edition of The Interstellar Suite in Surround Sound (among many other lovely things), I should probably include a link to a 25 year old event that inspired a scene in Grace Awakening, shouldn’t I?  (Thanks Arlene for that awesome sparkly sky paper!)

 

poem- belated gifts December 13, 2014

Filed under: Friendship,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:34 pm
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I heard you sent it

and it makes me smile

to know my mail box

will receive a gift

from the past.

When it arrives

I will float back in time,

swim in memories for a while,

then break the surface

to be thankful

for now.

 

poem- night music August 25, 2014

I was the lone

talentless one

in a room of musicians.

As each took his place,

at his instrument

I turned on the cassette

recorder, determined

to capture the moment.

I collapsed onto

the couch, in

blurry eyed reverie

as the music tangled

in my brain, filled the

basement, bounced

off the ceiling tiles.

The pianist glanced

into my starry eyes

and grinned.

The others teased

between their strings,

but words fell away

in the fog of my euphoria.

His lips curled upwards

on one side

as his eyes twinkled at mine.

When he packed to go

I rewound the tape.

I heard the

mangled mess of a

damaged tape.

Devastated, I

blinked through

tearful eyes.

Everyone  laughed,

but he draped an

arm around my shoulders

and guided me up the stairs.

As his ride arrived

he whispered,

“Don’t worry.

I’ll make you

more music.”

And

he

did.

.

.

.

(Is it any wonder I wrote a book about this? lol  Tonight, I had a flashback.  Thought I’d share.)