Shawn L. Bird

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

poem- O My Cron January 5, 2022

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:54 pm
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“We don’t know
what we’re doing next,”
they said.

“Just expect
that you’ll catch the virus,
so leave instructions at your desk.

“There may be no one
to cover your job;
sorry about that.

“Don’t let uncertainty (or fear of death)
dull your passion
for the work.

“We so appreciate
everything
you do.

“Don’t worry, just relax;
what doesn’t kill you
makes you stronger.”



.

(This is a triversen poem. Each stanza is three lines that make a complete sentence)

 

poem- Daddy’s sweater December 17, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:29 pm
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I am zipped up in Daddy’s green sweater.
Mom knitted, purled, cabled together
some semblance of love.
He wore it with joy almost every day,
telling all admirers how it was made with love.
It’s wrapped around me,
but it’s not his firm arms,
not his smell (which wasn’t peppermint
or aftershave, but just him),
not his whisper in my ears,
Love you so much.
How can another year have past
without him? How can a sweater
be both so full
and so bereft of him?

 

Crushed December 15, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:55 pm
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Beneath the rock slide
I lie gasping.
So many stones squashing
the life out of me,
Covid, isolation, tension,
anxiety in others,
illness, recent deaths,
responsibility, each a
pebble piled
until breathing seems
an impossibility.
Where is the safety crew
to clear the debris
so we can be well,
be free of despair,
be who we used
to be.

 

poem-gone August 3, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:53 pm
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Beyond us

the world has gone

swallowed in grey

a haze that glows orange

at night, around the edges that once

were mountains.

We cannot breathe.

Beyond us

the world has gone.
.

.

.

.

Purpleair.com reports our air quality has improved today. We’re down to 389 from 450s (out of 500) earlier in the week. Still “extremely hazardous.” Wildfires are most unpleasant, particularly where valleys converge and smoke from several fires gathers. The smoke is visible in the street and yards. 254 active fires in our province, over 40% of them out of control. 4 large fires in our local region. Thousands of people evacuated or on alert. Hoping for a weekend of lightning-less rain to wash the sky and allow for deep breaths again! Our lovely 30 degree Celsius summer is wasted when one can’t be outside.

 

poem-what’s falling July 29, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:12 pm
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In the porch light

ash is illuminated

specks of falling sky

pieces of evergreen needles

drop onto my arm

leave lines of black.

It hurts to breathe this grey air;

forests blazing hurt the heart.

Pray for rain, or better, snow.

(because, you know, snow

doesn’t bring lightning
or more fire).

 

Poem-Independence June 14, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:10 pm
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Related to a current meme about why people were more afraid of the women labelled as witches than of the slanderers and murders who killed them…

(Another rondelet. I’m having fun with them).

That witching vibe
Independent thought? Dangerous!
That witching vibe.
Patriarchy’s foul diatribe
Thrills at the thought to injure us
Has not a fear of killing us
That witching vibe.

 

poem-overturning June 11, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:29 am
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This time it is
exactly what I want to see.
This time it is
My priorities, not his.
Whatever I want life to be,
my choices and philosophy,
This time it is.

Another rondelet. The speaker of this poem has a bit of a declaration here! 🙂 I have met quite a few women over the years who’ve fought to overturn programming and embrace their independence.

 

poem-releasing June 10, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:48 pm
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I heard your name
calling to me from long ago.
I heard your name,
(Oh, that melancholy refrain!)
whispering words so soft and low,
memories I need to let go.
I heard your name.

This poetry form is called a ‘rondelet’ and plays with an A/B rhyme, lines of 4/8 syllables, and a repeated refrain (as you can see!).

 

poem-hubris June 3, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:46 pm
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We know

what’s best

Make the right decisions

Know the right culture

Have the right religion

Use the right words

No one else is as good as we are

It’s all black and white

Except for all that grey,

and all those other

rights.

 

playgrounds and graveyards May 31, 2021

The elders told you.
Trembling voices.
Feathers clutched for courage.
They told you of their sisters, brothers, and cousins
who did not come home.
Those who crept out at night and
walked through wilderness to return home.
Those who got sick and died.
Those who were beaten.
Those who were broken.
Those who were battered.
So many buried.
The elders told you how truth had been buried, too.


So many lost children.
Now 215 have been found.
Their bones are proof to the elders’ words.
Who is surprised?
Children buried in unmarked graves.
See what is also buried there:
Denial. Shame.
Voices rise in sorrow.
Now what will be done
to bring peace to the children who survived?
Grown with a burden of brokeness. Grief swallowed.
How will the elders’ trauma be relieved?

.

.

.

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This poem references the discovery of the mass grave of 215 children on the grounds of the Kamloops Residential School. Read an article about it here: https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/british-columbia/tk-eml%C3%BAps-te-secw%C3%A9pemc-215-children-former-kamloops-indian-residential-school-1.6043778

 

 
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