Shawn L. Bird

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

poem- 3 things March 25, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:07 am
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On her blog @SarahDoughty prompted:

Tell me a story covering three things:

  1. a promise
  2. why you write
  3. a passion

This was my response.  Not exactly a story, but you know, brevity is an art! 🙂  What’s your response?  Go check out her blog and leave a thought.

.

I do; I do
release the stories,
my dreams of you.

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POETRY LESSON:

I feel like I need to take this moment to point out what is going on in this poem, because while there are only 3 lines and eleven words, they are woven tightly using a variety of poetic technique.  First, while each line responds in order to Sarah’s 3 prompts, they also read as one sentence, so there are overlapping meanings.  Secondly, there is a pattern of 4-3-4 words.  Thirdly, repetition in the first line is quite emphatic, but provides a rhyme that tightens the ending with you.  

Fourthly, I get seriously carried away with the sound devices assonance and consonance, binding each component of the words to their fellows.  There are three vowels sounds repeated, the only out-lier is the ‘o’ in stories. e.g. I, I, my; do, do, you; release, stories, dreams; the, of.  (Reminder: assonance is repetition of a vowel sound, NOT a letter).  The consonant sounds also repeat with do, do, dreams; release, stories, dreams; release, stories, dreams; my dreams.  The the and of  are both *fricatives, and so while not exactly the same sound, the brain hears them as ‘close enough.’

Finally, that leaves  only the ‘l’ is without a partner, except visually–because I,I,l look the same, don’t they?  And of course, the lonely o from stories, visually matches the o’s in do.  In other words, every component of each word is tied somehow to the rest of the poem.  Absolutely everything fits like a tight puzzle.

Did I do any of this intentionally?  No, actually.  I just responded to the prompt, tidied it up until I liked it, and then when I copied it here, I noticed how tight it was.

*Fricatives in English are f,v, s (both s/z sounds), th (both θ and ð).

 

poem-window love March 24, 2015

Filed under: Poetry,poodles — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:50 am
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It’s time for spring cleaning,

but if I wash your nose prints

off this glass

then the last trace

of you will be erased

and you will truly be

gone.

 

poem- burning March 23, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:31 am
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The label on the bra

reads “Keep away from fire.”

Is this a warning against

flames of excessive passion,

self-immolation, or

metaphorical representations

of feminist independence?

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DSCN1554

 

poem- raining March 22, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:08 am
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We’re home, and it’s raining.

Vacation sun hidden

Blue skies masked by grey

I didn’t ask you to say

anything.  I waited.

Too late.

We’re home, and it’s raining.

 

 

 

poem- the look March 21, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:18 am
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I didn’t mean to do it.

The clerk was trying to teach me to do something for myself

but I had neither time nor inclination.

I just wanted a book, and if the one I had requested from the other campus wasn’t there,

it didn’t matter where it was in the system

or whether it was coming.

Today I could pick it up, not tomorrow or later.

It wasn’t here, so I just wanted to sign out the book in my hand.

When she tried to explain what I should do to trace the path of the missing book

explain the complex library system, invite me to log into a computer off to the side,

I gave her the look.

I didn’t mean to, but I did.

She froze and her sentence stuttered to a halt,

eyes gaping at me.

She passed my book over the scanner, gulping.

I apologized for not being teachable.

I don’t know where I developed the look,

I don’t realize I’m doing it until I see the reaction.

I don’t know what I’m doing precisely

that conveys such intense disinterest and disapproval

but it does.

At least I didn’t have to sit for ten minutes

for a lecture and computer consultation, like she wanted.

Three minutes in the university library was long enough

when I am hobbling with a cane

and irritated with accessibility.

 

 

 

poem-cracked March 20, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:13 am
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I am cracked earth,

parched red clay

shrinking in the sun.

You are water,

not a flood

pouring over, but

a gentle, constant rain,

infiltrating slowly,

waking dormant seeds,

bringing blossoms,

to barren hopes,

remaking me.

 

 

poem-bully the victim March 19, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:50 pm
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Everyone thinks they’ve been bullied.

Everyone has had someone say something mean

been called a rude name

felt misunderstood

felt completely unseen

felt left out of the game.

Growing up means learning that not everyone thinks you’re great.

Growing up means knowing you’ll get called out when you’re weird.

Social correction.

Don’t be so intense, trying to fit everyone inside your fence

If they’re just being nice, don’t make them want to slice

their wrists rather than interact with you

Social rejection

is a natural reaction to those things you do.

Social conversation

starts out small, don’t demand their all

Everyone has met the kid that’s on the bullhorn

the irritating thorn who blames everyone for the scorn

he invites himself.  If you want deep contact

don’t start combat if interaction contracts.

If you want a friend

Be a friend.

The end.

.

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A few years ago, I was overheard a conversation between a Special Education teacher and a new student on the autism spectrum who was visiting the high school in preparation for attending the following year.  She explained to him that in high school, if he was doing something inappropriate as a grade 8 student with poor social skills, a grade 12 would call him on it, and that wasn’t bullying, that was social correction.  It was probably the most effective way for him to realize his own responsibility for the irritations of others; social correction was an enlightening concept for him.   There’s a line here.  Some behaviour is not appropriate!  It’s important that bullies receive just as much social correction as ‘victims’ do.  “We don’t treat each other like that” goes both ways.   To other students, the student in question was a bully, in the way he monopolized the class room with irrelevant questions or self-indulgent narratives.  He impacted them negatively, and they retained the right to tell him he needed to be quiet.  He responded better to students than teachers giving the same message.  What do you think?  Is there such a thing as ‘social correction’ or is any negative feedback just a form of ‘bullying?’

 

poem-following March 18, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:26 pm
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Release your words

Let them go

Have faith that they will flutter like leaves

around

above

upon.

Some will watch and smile as the leaf words go by.

Some will study, approve, disprove, analyze, consider.

Some will see the words upon their landscape, sweep them up

send them away.

One might press your words to savour for another day.

Leaves offer scent, food, shade, beauty, and garden humous.

Every purpose is good.

Release your word leaves

to the purposes they find,

whether they’re what you intended,

or not.

Let them go.

Have faith.

 

 

poem-leprechaun March 17, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:53 am
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Giant leprechaun

on the Via Crucis of

Palantine Hill

in Rome.

An American

in a giant

green velvet hat

laughing

and jigging

for St. Pat.

MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERA

 

Five years ago on St. Patrick’s Day we were in Rome.  We were exploring on Palantine Hill when we saw these Americans.  I took his photo and he passed me his camera to take a photo of them.  End of story.  His hat has remained in memory as an amusing incidental of the trip.

 

poem-between the lines March 16, 2015

Honey,

quit hunting between the lines

for secret messages!

The pondering that ravages your mind

is funny.

Sometimes a like is just a like,

it’s not a matter of spite

a declaration of might,

suggestion you’re right,

it’s just a like.

‘Nice words.  I heard them.’

‘Well phrased.  This stays with me.’

‘You posted.  Yay!’

Quit running with the attitude

that everything’s about you.

Relax.  Let live.  Don’t stress.

I don’t care if you’re wearing pants or dress.

If you look like Hans but feel like Sue.

I’m not gunning after you!

Do what you want to do.

But don’t read between my lines

and imagine that in my rhymes

I’m referring to you.

(Though this one time,

it’s true,

I do).

.

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(Sometimes I get weird email.  I should just ignore it, but sometimes it’s inspiring.  What can I say?)