While you are shouting you’re right.
Check
who else is.
There’s always
more to
know.
poem-who are you, really? July 19, 2021
I’m a good person!
I don’t cheat
(well, except that test,
but it was an important one, I couldn’t afford to fail!
Oh, and with that girl at the bar that one time when
the wife was out of town, but that was her fault)
I don’t lie
(well, except to my mom, she couldn’t handle knowing
and would raise a fuss).
I don’t steal
(Hey, those pirate book and video sites aren’t stealing,
those folks don’t deserve to be paid for their work!)
I don’t drink too much
(that time doesn’t count, we were celebrating!)
I’m not violent
(you can’t say she didn’t deserve that black eye).
I’m a good person.
I’m just like you, right?
What does ‘good’ mean, anyway?
poem-where there’s smoke
she left the window open
woke to ash on the couch
mountains are obscured
noon light is yellow
armageddon glow
our expressions of worry
furrowed brows
above our masks
(N95 now)
don’t ask about our stress levels
as we check the lightning tracker,
the live stream wildfire map.
After the pandemic
seems we don’t yet have the knack
of acceptance; get the bag
ready to go,
make sure we know where
to rendez-vous, pretend
all this is normal.
What more can we do?
Bless the fire fighters
as the map clicks to fire number
one thousand one hundred thirty two.
poem-last day June 24, 2021
Just wisps of clouds dot the periwinkle sky
Faint breeze dancing among the leaves
Grads gathering, twelve at a time.
Four guests only. Strictly enforced by the
Ministry of Health. Bring five. Grad ends.
The tents in case of rain
Lake and hills in view.
Pandemic grads to walk across the grass
This graduation has so many things new
but something old:
Hand-shake in gown and cap.
Farewell, all our best wishes go with you.
Poem-Independence June 14, 2021
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
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
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
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?
.
.
.
.
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
poem-blurred May 3, 2021
Today
life is soft focus
foggy view.
Slow brain.
Whole body blurred,
translucent.
If someone took a photo
would I be a phantom?
Shawn L. Bird 