Shawn L. Bird

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

poem- fog December 11, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:09 am
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The fog is thick today

both hovering over the lake

and in my head,

rendering me slow-witted,

dull,

fatigued.

Does the lake feel the same?

 

poem- limited visibility December 8, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:28 pm
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The lake is there,

just over the hill. Our view is

stolen by lilacs.

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View from our living room window. In the winter, we can see the lake. Just barely. Darn lilacs.

 

poem-slice December 4, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:55 am
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What invisible edge

slit skin on finger tip,

inserted pain into this day?

Blood dripped.

Every typed word

reminds me

danger lurks everywhere.

I face the consequences

alone.

 

 

poem- solo December 3, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:02 am
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One

.

tiny

.

perfect

.

snowflake

.

falls

.

through

.

empty

.

sky.

.

Intrepid?

.

or harbinger?

 

 

poem-weeping December 2, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:56 pm
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He, loved filled,

would be caught weeping.

The first time,

graduation.

The second,

over broken relations,

feeling her pain, worried

she’d be okay.

Later,

from loneliness,

from frustrated, infirmity,

he would weep, “Please come!”

I’d wrap my arms around him,

sit beside him,

share those moments of fragility,

so thankful for love,

so thankful for him.

She’s never shown a tear.

Year after year,

muttering,

grumbling,

no personal responsibility,

dark heart.

Her rages

call for no sympathy.

At least,

from me.

 

poem- wishes November 25, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:50 am
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She used to see him everywhere

He wove into every conversation

‘All roads lead to…’ they joked

Now the roads go new places

Wind through wishful thinking,

blissful realities

settle comfortably in what is

for what it’s worth.

 

 

poem- baking tomorrow November 22, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:39 pm
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She is gone

traditions will be different in her absence

I am a poor substitute.

May our Christmas cookies

and your memories

be sweet.

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