I whisper you
You whisper me
I murmur you
You murmur me
I chortle you
You chortle me
I extrapolate you
I expostulate you
I lose you
.
.
This is my 1900th post to the blog!
It’s been a busy 5 years!
poem- haunts May 1, 2015
Haunted
Full days.
Wishing
Spinning
Devouring.
Turned inside out.
There was a rainbow.
.
.
This was a poetry exercise I created for my class today-
The prompts by line were
I am…
I have…
3 -ing verbs
I feel…
I wish…
I got some really interesting pieces! First we did this as a class activity, rolling the paper over and trading with someone new for each line. Then we shared the results. Finally, they created their own from stratch.
poem-arcs April 30, 2015
Arms are
the consolation
the comfort
the consideration
arranged around artifice.
Arcing constancy.
poem- delusion April 29, 2015
You are deluded.
People are
laughing at you behind your back?
No. They’re not.
You Interpret casual, general remarks about the state of the universe
as personal attacks.
You are like my fear aggressive dog,
seeing people in the distance
growling from afar, shaking and snapping.
But they’re…!
No. They’re not.
You need a Gentle leader
to pull your mouth closed
bite back those lies
calm your hysteria.
You’re snapping and panting at air.
poem-then love
I told you
I’d love you forever
You told me you loved me
and we’d be friends forever.
I meant every deluded nuance.
You figured optimism works out
but you also said you couldn’t answer
to what would happen if I snuck into your room
and you woke to my face hovering above you.
That intriguing notion made me giggle at the joke.
But you kept your door locked, just in case.
Did you hear the door knob rattle?
Then the plane took off,
without me hiding in your luggage
as you’d suggested I could.
Our next phone call clarified
the kindness of lies.
and the length reality stretches
to cling to an illusion.
I’ve been grateful for
the elasticity of spurious delusion
every day of my life.
I craft my reality in my imagination:
You are whoever I make you to be.
Do I cover you with armour?
Compel piano mastery?
Some loves last through time:
mythical love need not be mocked.
What you hear, is never what truly was.
It’s what was crafted to tell the tale that needed to be told.
You are a character in the love story,
and I can always kill you off in
literary impunity.
.
Shape poem of a chess piece. Clear? Metaphor of the game. Get it?
poem-echoes April 28, 2015
First performance with special effects.
Dry ice rises
from cardboard smoke stacks.
Audience gasps at the realism,
then the ice descends to the stage
and the singers gasp
and choke.
Always rehearse
the special effects first!
Don’t injure the imported talent
or the gratuitous local hacks!
.
.
I was watching Carmen from the Met on TV this weekend and was catapulted back in time to 1999 when I sang in the chorus of Carmen with the PG Symphony. Conductor Paul Andreas Mahr brought in four rising stars to join the symphony’s first opera: Mezzo Caroline Menard, Soprano Renee Salewski, Tenor Lenard Whiting, and the delightful baritone Tyler Duncan, the home-town boy, whose wide open arms gave wonderful bear hugs at every opportunity. It was a very fun production. I had to look up the imported talent to see what they’re doing now. Some exiting stuff! I hunted all over for the photos of this, but can only find the news clippings. I’ll keep looking, and update with photos when I find the right album. My special claim to fame in this production was that 3 of us had a spotlight moment in a part originally meant for kids, except it was too late in the opera, and all good children needed to be home in bed. No idea any more what I sang! 🙂
poem- for Brian #Outlander April 27, 2015
Brian Dubh
They miss you.
Shredded hearts pile blame
Lash out from pain
They’ve lain you in your grave,
Brian Dubh,
but while they grieve
still you live
in them.
.
.
A little Outlander poem today, in honour of ep 112 Lallybroch. Dubh is pronounced “Doo”. It means ‘black’. Jamie Fraser’s father was known as “Black Brian” for his colouring. If you’re only meeting these character through the TV series, you may not know this.
poem- perhaps April 26, 2015
Perhaps when
. you are dead
I will find a cache
. of hidden love letters,
. diaries,
. poetry
all proclaiming your passionate
. yearnings,
your adoration recorded
. day after day.
Moments captured on paper
. trapped filaments of bliss
. flashes of us through your eyes.
Perhaps
I will find a cache.
Perhaps
. not.
poem- golden April 24, 2015
We are in a golden land:
A singular moment in time.
Everything glows.
We are our best
You are your best
We have created something beautiful,
something brilliant,
something ephemeral
that we wish to hold,
to savour,
to celebrate.
All we can to do is notice
this golden moment
and bask in the glow
until it’s faded away.
All we can do is be thankful
we are here.
.
.
This is dedicated to my colleagues at ERS. We have such an amazing school, full of laughter and community, but the cuts to funding mean that some of what makes us amazing will shortly end.
There are so many moments like this in our lives. It can happen when we come together with like-minds at a conference or festival, for example. Theatre productions are usually like this. We come together and magic happens. We glory at what we are part of, knowing that a component of its beauty is that it will not last, and hoping that while it exists, it makes a difference to those we touch.
Shawn L. Bird 