My Christmas lights
are stars reflected
in a black lake
My Christmas lights
are the twinkle
in laughing eyes
My Christmas lights
are glistening in
your smile.
poem- then December 16, 2013
A note to us
back then:
These days are precious;
you will savour your
memories of camaraderie
at the end of the road,
from the distance of
two decades.
Warm wood fires,
and warmer friendships,
Mothers and small children
budding careers,
and many dreams
were nurtured there
at the end of the road.
World travels,
Publication,
Independence
All dreams you barely
dare to dream
come true
in time.
Still, that time
at the end of the road
with faith and friendship,
warm hearts,
is where our daring
began.
.
For Claudia (and Heather and Francine and the rest of the Woods Road gang, actual and honourary) as I remember cookie exchanges, coffee, tea, cooking lessons, painting, laughter, prayer, and bats. 🙂
poem- dreaming December 15, 2013
and so you live
in dreams
twitching at imaginary foes
muttering speeches
you will not remember in the morning
as I will awaken
and forget
you.
poem- switch December 14, 2013
Best laid plans
A good surprise
Gone wrong.
An earnest effort
Hug cures
anguish
frustration
Making right
Rewind
Start again
Free rein
poem- candle December 12, 2013
In Finland,
a single candle in the window
is the Christmas light.
In graveyards,
candles illuminate gravestones
through the dark winter days:
a haunting reminder
of life lights extinguished,
better than buried plastic flowers
in the moonlit snow.
Light dances like a living soul
in windows and on graves.
Single points of light,
simple festivity,
Christmas celebration
far away.
.
.
Missing my Finnish host families and friends tonight, but remembering them with a candle in my window.
found poem- chapter titles from MOBY by Diana Gabaldon
Diana Gabaldon just posted the Chapter 82  to 94 titles for her next book in the Outlander series, entitled Written in My Own Heart’s Blood (aka MOH-B, aka MOBY) Those chapter titles were mixed to create this ‘found poem.’ Words in bold are Diana’s titles. Regular print and punctuation are mine. The fun with found poetry, is that one often senses something profound hovering just below understanding. Can you find a message here?
.
Keeping Score:
   One Day Cock of the Walk—Next Day, A Feather Duster
but
I Will Not Have Thee Be Alone
on the   Â
Long Road Home
Through
   Sundown
        Nightfall
           Moonrise or
               The Sense of the Meeting
                   In Which Rosy-Fingered Dawn Shows Up Mob-Handed.
A Whiff of Roquefort
in
The House on Chestnut Street
reveals that
It’s a Wise Child Who Knows His Father
Oh yes, for
Even People Who Want to Go to Heaven Don’t Want to Die to Get There.
poem- lift off December 10, 2013
I believed,
I really did.
I told myself,
‘It will be.”
But I hoarded words.
I wished,
I wondered,
I waited.
I held my words tightly.
It is bold
to send words away
to find their friends.
But when words
are shared
worlds are opened
to new horizons.
Life lifts off
when we believe
in our words,
and set them free.
poem- pages December 8, 2013
turning pages
story unfolds
redirected
reinvented
rising action
turning pages
new narrative
next adventure
climax
turning pages
volume 2
life unfolds
poem- choose pink December 7, 2013
“No, honey!” the mother said
reaching across that table and plucking
a crayon from her daughter’s hand.
“The sky isn’t pink. Â Here,
use this blue crayon.”
The little girl blinked tears.
The teacher leaned over,
and studied the picture.
“What a beautiful sunset
you’ve drawn!” she said.
.
.
For Charlotte, who is teaching crafts at the art gallery, and is amazed at some parents.
Shawn L. Bird 