Shawn L. Bird

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

poem- story girl April 14, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 6:21 pm
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The narration of your life

reads like a psychological thriller:

danger around every corner,

tension ramped to pain,

each character a potential villain

set to betray you,

and you’ve been betrayed, I know.

You’ve built your fortress

high and wide

and peek over cautiously

in your dark camouflage,

searching for the enemy

ready to defend

the small safety zone

you’ve carved for yourself.

You will survive,

because the protagonist

must overcome.

On the power of your words,

your resilience will rise

above the tormented tragedy

of your history

and you will embrace the destiny

that awaits your discovery.

I believe in your joyfully

mundane denouement.

 

 

 

poem- day off April 13, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:00 pm
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Reclining, sipping tea,

computer on the knees

Lounging in my jammies,

needing nothing more than

catching up on reading

and my writing chores,

whiling the day away

seems really swell

until someone rings

the damn door bell.

 

 

 

poem- beginning April 12, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 5:39 pm
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When we’re beginning

we celebrate the possibility

embrace the new

dream of what’s ahead.

Now we’re beginning

new challenges enfold

new priorities take precedence

new adventures await.

We’re beginning a new journey

into the unknown

with new travelling companions

and a goal on the horizon.

We’re beginning

alone and together

good shoes for the soles,

ready for whatever comes,

one step at a time,

onward.

 

poem- mourning April 11, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 6:47 pm
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This morning

the rain washed road

has become a

worm mortuary.

 

 

poem-duck advice April 10, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:40 am
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Duck:

observe the legato ease of

geese relaxing in their Vs,

or eagles, reaching out their sides

to slice the skies,

even the tiny wren flies

from tree to tree efficiently,

but you,

you flap

over-happily

like a rattlepated,

frenzied drunk,

Duck.

 

poem- no poem April 9, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 5:41 pm
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There is no poem today.

The muses did not stop my way.

Regretfully I must decline

upon some vague truth to opine

Today for you there is no verse.

but chin up, it could be worse!

 

poem- real estate April 8, 2014

Filed under: Poetry,video — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:28 am
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The Canada Geese

have taken up penthouse accommodations

in the osprey platforms.

Two lady geese on two platforms

watch the cars pass on the highway

enjoying the view,

liking this nest.

They’re distant neighbours

proud to be moving on up.

I wonder how that will go

when the ospreys return?

.

.

(Ospreys are raptor type birds that like to live beside lakes and rivers where they are avid fishers, are partial to building their huge nests on the T-bars of power poles.  The hydro company and/or local naturalists, build platforms beside tempting poles to relocate them to safer premises.  The ospreys will return to these nesting sites year after year.  Apparently, the geese like them, as well!  This video is from the other side of the country, back in 2011)

 

poem- ancient understatement April 7, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:23 pm
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My father,

born 1914,

grumbles about his sore eye

and sighs,

“I guess

I’m getting old.”

.

.

(True story).

 

poem- Hello!

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:29 pm
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Well, hello there deer!

What are you doing in the middle of my lane

on the TransCanada Highway?

Deer belong in forests.

Get off the asphalt

before you die.

.

.

A little surprise on my way to work this morning: a large mule deer (I think) right behind the school where I work.  He headed into the trees of the river valley after I stopped for him to carry on.  Such is life in Canada!

 

poem- Mr. Williams April 6, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 6:13 pm
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Seriously

Mr. Williams,

What is so important

about that

red

wheelbarrow?

Does cleaning out

the chicken coop

really warrant

such angst?

.

.

With vague apologies to William Carlos Williams (what was your mother thinking?) and his apparently crucial wheelbarrow.