The lake
is a puddle of pink paint
reflecting clouds glistening Klimt gold
in a sky fixated on fuchsia.
poem-words November 25, 2013
Counting words
ten at a time
twenty
thirty
Aiming for word count
three
thousand
words
345 down
2655 to go
Why can’t I ever
start writing
before eleven
p.m.?
video- wonderful start to Christmas November 24, 2013
This is absolutely delightful. Florence Baptist Temple in Burlington, Kentucky, USA sure put on a great show for their Singing Christmas Tree! These young men are quite awesome. In honour of the beginning of the Christmas season: Enjoy!
.
poem-thanks November 23, 2013
I thanked the cleaner
in the hotel wash room
for her good work, and the pride
the staff showed in keeping a wonderful
establishment pristine.
As I left the room
a lady following me said,
“That was very kind of you,
cleaners don’t hear that often enough.”
But she did not
say thank you
herself.
poem- city lights
Every light
moving on the streets
blinking in the buildings
Every light
a life
story.
poem- danger November 20, 2013
Stepping across the street
you are in danger.
Driving to the grocery store
is more dangerous than
flying across the country.
Why then,
does leaving the bonds of earth
and taking to sky or sea
seem like braving great
danger?
.
.
I’m not afraid of flying, but I still hold my breath during those take off and landings! Off to another conference. This will be my 5th one this calendar year! I am learning about career education in BC.
poem- fiery eyes November 19, 2013
Mist drifts on snowy mountains,
slash piles burning:
molten eyes in a ghostly face
glowing above us
poem- MOBY dreams (chapter titles found poem) November 18, 2013
Diana Gabaldon just released the next set of chapter titles (68-81) for her next novel, “My Own Heart’s Blood.” They looked like they were asking to be a poem, so now they are. I have taken the liberty of re-ordering them for my own purposes. She assures readers there are no spoilers, but I make no such promises. (ha!) I usually use phrases exactly as found, but in this case, the bold words are the titles, and anything not bolded is added for sense or transition (or my own entertainment).
.
The Cider Orchard
High Noon
A Single Louse
In the Wrong Place at the Wrong Time
ponders the
Peculiar Behavior of a Tent, full of
Morasses and Imbroglios,
a Folie à Trois,
The Dangers of Surrendering to passion are,
The Sort of Thing That Will Make a Man Sweat and Tremble,
(and a louse, too) when it must
Go Out in Darkness.
Consider,
The Price of Burnt Sienna:
is a Sparrow-Fart
Among the Tombstones
Pater Noster
Holy louse,
wrong place, wrong time, indeed.
Shawn L. Bird 