Wistful
Wishful
A tank of fish full:
silver darting
Red Sea parting.
Make a way;
say your say.
Wistful
wish.
Full.
poem-interpretation February 6, 2018
The Lord of All Knowledge,
Gatekeeper of Truth,
says the poem means this.
Generations of readers bow
before this wisdom,
even though they don’t see it,
can’t believe it,
they just accept it.
When the poet reads
the critic’s piece,
she laughs and laughs
at the irony of such arrogant
assumptions!
Oh, student!
Good reader!
There are no errors
of interpretation in poetry!
Your experiences show you a meaning,
and if you can find lines to support,
your responses are just as valid as any critic’s.
(So the famous poet said to me,
and he should know).
poem-dark? February 5, 2018
Midnight
outside the kitchen window
snow capped cedars glow
in moonlight.
poem- mix February 2, 2018
You see
Spun around in circles
Blurred recollections
Foxes running
Apple trees
I see
You were sunshine
I was rain
I was a mask
You burned through
Confused Newton
No gravity.
poem-ungated January 30, 2018
This way is ungated.
No barrier.
Crawl along hedgerows
wade through wheat fields.
The cows don’t care to cross the cattle guard.
Continue along the way,
eventually, I’ll come to you.
This poem is ungated,
too.
poem- push on January 28, 2018
We labour in monotonous isolation
Words falling onto pages
magic spells
new worlds
It might be good.
It might be worth sharing.
It might just be,
what it needs to be for us
to set our demons free.
Isolation and monotony,
and then someone
you respect
says
“Such lovely prose!”
or “beautifully wrought characters”
or “Loved it!”
and you think there’s hope
for your imaginary friends
and your imaginary world
and your imaginary dreams.
Labouring becomes inspired
by encouraging analyses.
poem-touch January 21, 2018
This gripping agony
squeezes me thoroughly.
All that exists are those few
square inches,
shrieking at me.
I see the ripples of this pain
on my brows, crossing vision.
The world has shrunk into a tiny piece
of me.
poem-dancing with myself January 12, 2018
I walk into music
pick up a beat,
meld my steps,
add a sashay, a little sway,
swing those hips,
tilt the lips,
I urge you from your seat,
dance out of the scene
find our rhythm,
Carry on.
poem- belittled January 10, 2018
Short temper erupts
Tiny trouble surrounds
Small smiles: faked.
Insidious misogeny ignored
We knew.
#MeToo told us nothing new.
Those men want us to
Be little.
But something’s brewing.
It’s going to be big.
poem-boxes January 9, 2018
Boxed up
memories, wrapped carefully
in torn tissue paper,
worn over years.
Boxed up
histories, revisited annually-
unwrapping melancholy,
tying it on a tree.
Shawn L. Bird 