Anticipation building.
Preparations made.
At the back of the mind
Really?
Surely there will come disappointment
instead of you?
poem- phantom cookies August 31, 2016
In my dreams
two cookies appear on my plate
when I glance down
I have eaten one.
In dismay I think
I just won’t eat the other,
but next glance,
it is gone, too.
I think, how strange, I eat
without even noticing.
That’s a bad habit.
.
.
(39 days on the diet–twenty pounds down–apparently my subconscience craves cookies?)
poem-odd August 27, 2016
I remember the Christmas
she gave me
a set of hotel toiletries
from her vacation to Portugal.
Gold embossed tiny burgundy bottles
shampoo,
conditioner,
lotion,
and an elegantly packaged
shower cap.
Should we have known
there was something
wrong with her
then?
poem-audition August 26, 2016
A sudden idea
A lyric check
Practicing belting in tune
over
and
over.
Yeah.
I think I can do it.
So I’m heading off
to my first audition
in 33 years.
Let’s hope my broken ankle
was adequate preparation
to return to the stage.
poem-drift August 24, 2016
The clouds drift beneath the stars in diaphanous gowns
Frogs call to distant lovers
Chill walks through the garden
Summer’s grasp on our evenings is slipping.
poem-almost August 21, 2016
You leave silver trails behind you.
They glisten in the morning sun
like fairy roads on the concrete.
Such light from a creature that looks like dung.
poem- bother August 17, 2016
Fabric on the ground
Measure and pin.
Ah! A helper!
Sit on the fabric
Upset the pins
Give me kisses
Crawl into my lap
Production stops.
Canine cuddles provided,
into isolation you go.
Work resumes.
poem-beaming August 16, 2016
The moon is a street light
dimming the gleam of stars
while amphibian love songs
fill the summer night.
poem- tempest August 13, 2016
Swirling tides roar
Air rumbles and crackles
Bitterness rises
A stomach bent on anarchy.
poem-virtous August 12, 2016
Men waiting outside the fabric store
young men
old men
Sitting in cars, humming to the radio
Standing with a cigarette watching traffic go by
Sitting, eyes glazed.
Leaning, napping.
These are the patient men,
the blesséd men,
who wait while colours are contemplated
drape is determined
possibilities are dreamed.
These are the rewarded later men,
who chauffeur home happy wives,
smile vacantly, and say
“Yes, dear.”
thankful their wives know nothing
about the cost of tools.
Shawn L. Bird 