Magic dances on your finger tips;
You transform the day.
Enchantment unwinds in glistening threads
and tangles between us.
Your spell has ensnared me,
but I’ll never tell that the gleam in my eyes
came from a cauldron of your promises.
poem-incised February 5, 2015
You find the perfect spot
for maximum irritation
you rip apart the incision
determined to arrest healing.
I long to rip you off,
toss you away,
have air and water and space
surround me,
to heal the gash
and help to find my footing again.
.
.
.
Dedicated to my Aircast® which has a air tube glued right at my incision line. This is a painful irritation! Yeah, yeah. So I’m being literal. Nothing is stopping you from taking it figuratively. That’s what poetry is all about! 🙂
poem-old dog February 4, 2015
You groan in your bed
shifting to find a comfortable spot.
You struggle to rise on those
sore back legs.
You fall over avoiding
chair legs.
You ignore your dinner
as if eating is too much effort.
You don’t hear people when
they come to the door.
You go out to toilet,
but poop as you come in.
You strain to see me
through clouded eyes.
But you wag your tail
when you recognise me
and bring me a toy to tug.
You follow me whenever I move,
just wanting to be with me.
You make me stare down
hard decisions.
dear old dog.
.
.
.
2015 is not my favourite year.
Dusty Dog’s 17th birthday is in August, but I don’t think he’s going to see it.
poem-silhouette February 3, 2015
The light is behind you
and you are a glorious silhouette
You see only shadows,
but we see beauty.
poem-weak February 2, 2015
Is it because
you can not bear your own weaknesses
that you are so angry
faced with others’ weakness?
In your fervent effort
to do what must be done,
do you not see your heart?
What are you afraid
we will see, in your weakness?
Vulnerability is beautiful.
Vulnerability expands
your universe.
Don’t be afraid
to be kind to yourself,
and kind to others.
We are all weak once
in a while.
poem-rolling February 1, 2015
I rolled into the room
delighted with engagement,
conversation,
company.
I rolled out of the room
on a high.
I rolled into the house
fell into my bed
and took fifteen hours
to recover from
intellectual curiosity.
.
.
Had my first big outing since I’ve been laid up with my broken ankle. I was out 6 hours for medical appointment, grad school workshop, and transportation. It was wonderful to talk to folks more erudite than my dogs, but apparently it was exhausting! The ankle wasn’t thrilled, either. I won’t be doing it again for a few weeks!
poem-hollow January 31, 2015
Her belly is hollow.
Once it was filled with him,
but she has been excavated
and spun into emptiness.
.
Her head is hollow.
Once it was filled with him,
but she has been desolated
and spun into heaviness.
.
Her life is hollow.
Once it was filled with him,
but she has been devastated
and spun into enviousness.
.
Her hope was hollow.
Once it was filled with him,
but she has been extricated,
and spins into readiness
poem-knitting January 30, 2015
I’m twisting yarn,
clicking knots together,
entwining future warmth
and comfort
poem- canine scheming January 29, 2015
In the hallway
between kitchen and bedrooms
the chef knife catches the light.
Which poodle is plotting
nefarious exploits?
Should we be locking
bedroom doors at night?
Shawn L. Bird 