The world is white
but my path was cleared
by a shovel wielding
snowman.
.
.
Some mornings I grumble as I’m awakened by the scraping of the snow shovel in the driveway, but then I have a moment of thankfulness, from the comfort of my warm bed, that hubby faithfully does it, so that I don’t have to on mornings like this, when there has been a heavy snowfall overnight. I just get to admire the beauty of it on my way to work, without bearing the weight of it on the end of a shovel. 😉
You
are ancient honey,
immutable in memory.
.
Floating on your laughter
I could touch stars.
.
The world was rose pink
with my yearning.
.
A sunrise through spectacles,
song rising on dawn,
desire enfolded in dream,
I wore innocence.
.
Your sweet kisses
colour my cheeks
in memory.
What wasn’t
When she opened her eyes
Was what she’d wished for
For so long
That wishing was all she had.
What was
When she opened her eyes
Was what she’d been blind to
For so long
That wishing was all she’d had.
Inferno fills sky,
flames roil like crashing sea,
cremating the sun.
“We’re not going to a show,”
he said. “They’re too expensive.”
“Oh,” she said, nodding sagely. “Right.”
They’d travelled all that way
to a sleepless city of lights.
Shows every night.
Wild crazy sights.
She’d packed for a night out.
“I get it,” she said,
smirking to herself.
She waited for his
inevitable surprise,
as he took her for
long walks in daylight
until her beautifully shod feet ached.
Then he napped.
She smiled at his
preparation for a late night
and she practiced her
astonished expression.
First night.
Second night.
Last night.
She gaped at him,
heading to an early bed.
Surprise!
There really is
no surprise.
He is
-potentially-
all he
is.
.
She is
-essentially-
all she
is.
.
They are
-exponentially-
all they
are.
I’ve been asked to submit a couple of poems to an anthology, and I have no idea what to choose. There are hundreds, and I like so many of them. So, do you have any suggestions? What’s your favourite?
Here’s the link to all the poetry on the blog, if you need to search through a few:
https://shawnbird.com/category/pondering/poetry/
Thanks for any help you can give!
A sales lady
rhapodized over my
red and purple shoes.
“I wish I had the guts
to wear something like that,”
she said, sighing.
“I always admire
great shoes on other people.”
.
I told someone of this,
and she said,
“I know what she means.
I used to envy people
who had the courage to wear
red lipstick.”
I smiled,
gazing at her scarlet lips.
“Do you feel super-powered
in that lipstick?”
Her eyes just twinkled in response.
.
We hold ourselves back,
from what will
make our spirits soar,
reveal our natures,
demonstrate our individuality,
because of what?
Fear of censure by dullards?
or
Fear of our own unleashed potential?
.
Embrace the tokens
of your power:
wear shoes that make your feet
dance in the street,
and lipstick that makes your smile
a billboard for your joy.
Be you
in all your
power.
.
(Thanks Julia, for loaning me the lipstick image). 😉
Next year
I will sign contracts
I will be inspired by talented friends
I will travel to promote books and writing
I will have readings and signings
I will meet thousands of people on the blog
I will finish the three manuscripts in progress
I will fit into my favourite ensembles
I will clear out the clutter
I will hike in the hills
Next year.
The case is packed full
of memories and you are
preparing for the trip
back to routine.
All that remains
are the images in the
camera and in
your mind.
Shawn L. Bird 