Shawn L. Bird

Original poetry, commentary, and fiction. All copyrights reserved.

poem- wild geese November 8, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:58 pm
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In half a V,

a line of five geese flies to the lake.

Moments later,

another half, line of eight

flies from the lake.

I’m waiting for the perfect V of twenty

or thirty birds, but times have changed

and half the flock

must choose to take the bus

these days, or perhaps, to walk.

 

poem- distant November 7, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 7:45 pm
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It didn’t touch in the right places.

It didn’t curve to the swells.

It didn’t dive into the depths

And yet it filled him up,

devoured him,

made him whole.

 

commentary- On an educator Prime Minister #1

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:39 pm
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#JustinTrudeau #cdnpoli

During Canada’s recent election campaign, the Conservatives denigrated Liberal leader Justin Trudeau because he had a degree in literature and was a drama teacher.  (He also taught French and Math).  They thought that made him incapable of running a country.  I have taught Drama and French.  I have a degree in literature.  I smiled, because I truly believe that if you can manage a high school drama class, you can manage a country.  If you were a good teacher, you’ll be able to manage that country with consideration, respect, and intelligence.  As I see them, I will point out how PM Trudeau’s teaching experience is making him a good leader.  These posts will be in addition to my daily poetry, so you won’t miss out.

Reason #1 why it’s great to have an Educator PM:

On the first day of session, Trudeau went to welcome all the MPs to Parliament Hill.  He told reporters this would set the right tone, that regardless of party affiliation, that each MP is in this together, working for Canadians.

This is precisely the policy of teachers, who on the first day of school (and days subsequent, of course) stand at the doors of their classrooms to welcome students, judge their frame of mind, and set the tone of cooperation and connection within their class.

 

poem- surprise November 6, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:30 pm
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You cannot make me do this work!

This class is dumb and you’re a jerk.

I will not hand in a single paper

You cannot make me do it later.

Hey, our report cards have arrived

HE FAILED ME? (insert dramatic sighs)

I hate this school!  Look at this report, see-

how all the teachers clearly hate me!

Don’t tell me that they can’t give credit

unless there’s work for them to edit.

Don’t tell me if I don’t show what I can do

then they have nothing to give them a clue.

None of this is my fault, you shrew!

I’m quitting school, so screw each and every one of you!

.

(This has terrible scansion.  I apologize)

 

poem- hopping November 5, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:10 pm
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Eyes hop

Butt hops

Head hops

Legs hop

Attention hops

School is difficult

for rabbits.

 

poem- prophecies November 4, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 6:35 pm
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Dear Magic 8 Ball:

You made me some consistent assurances.

But you lied.

Magic 8 Ball:

Do you suck?

“Yes. Definitely.”

You say.

So NOW you tell

the truth.

 

poem- beautiful November 3, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:20 am
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If

I am not beautiful

to you,

I am not the one whom you should wake next to.

you should not woo;

Lest you regret your nuptial day

and prove untrue with

someone who

is

beautiful to

you.

 

poem- time change November 2, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 6:37 pm
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It’s black outside

the dog does not believe

the clock.

 

poem- addressing memories November 1, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:30 am
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Turning pages in the address book

cross a line across another entry.

Turning pages

studying the names crossed out

A memorial of friends and family gone

Greetings sent in murmured prayers

to rest in peace.

 

poem- butterflies October 31, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:54 am
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She remembers long ago

when she’d catch his glances like butterflies,

flitting, fleeting, flickering glimpses,

darting from above a smile

of surreptitious wistfulness.

She’d swallow his longing

so the fluttering was within her,

and gaze back,

captivated, until they

trembled together

in the net.