When
entangled limbs
twist into
bliss,
that
is
this.
poem-warrior weary September 16, 2014
(I was just called a “Warrior Teacher Knitting Goddess”
I think that might be my favourite compliment ever).
.
.
I am weary
Warring with words
is exhausting work
Protect democracy
Fight one battle at a time
under emotional
and financial strain
Ready to go the distance,
and now they announce
a truce, a treaty, an agreement.
The evil despot smiles
and claims a mutual victory
With narrowed eyes
I doubt.
I have seen lies
pour like water from those lips
and I will never trust that truth
comes from her tongue.
The generals say
it is over, if we weary warriors
say it is over.
I am setting down my
metaphorical sword
cautiously
with looks over my shoulder
ready to pick up the picket
and battle again
if the conditions of surrender
prove unpalatable.
Democracy is worth
personal devastation,
but it is exhausting work
being a warrior.
poem-tynchal (an #Outlander poem)
“Score one for the pig,” she said,
but a hunter limping, partially gored
not prudent from the perspective
of a boar.
A roar marks the victory:
Geordie’s blood stains the earth
entrails pour onto leaves
at what is the more satisfying score
for the boar.
.
.
An Outlander poem, based on TV show ep 104 “The Gathering”
poem- out in the rain September 15, 2014
Usually
I have patience to tolerate
your negative energy.
I can listen to your whining
self-indulgence
without comment.
I can ignore your
ignorance, and gently
try to inform you.
But right now,
my world is a storm
of negativity, raining from
despots, thieves, and liars
who have too much power over my life.
I am holding up a very small umbrella
to hold off the stress.
If you blow that negative air at me,
you will turn my umbrella inside out
and so you’ll excuse me
if I leave you
standing in the rain
by yourself.
poem- stitches
Yarn
strung along
twisting, wrapped,
dropped, turned,
knit, purl
Entanglement
is what brings
comfort.
Poem- oh September 14, 2014
My gaze settles
on a dimpled grin
eyes laughing
amid the crowded din
Your eyes find mine
grow hooded,
and your smile
stretches languidly.
The din disappears
as we spin a web
between us.
Who is spider?
Who is fly?
Shawn L. Bird 
poem-soul rain September 18, 2014
Tags: BC, BCTF, government, ratification, referendum, scotland, strike, teachers, vote
It’s grey and misty out
like our future
Vote yes?
Vote no?
Rain on our
hopes.
.
.
.
(This is actually about the BC Teachers’ ratification vote, but since Scotland is also in the midst of its independence vote, I dedicate it to the Scots as well!)
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