Shawn L. Bird

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

poem-Dusty July 16, 2014

Filed under: Poetry,poodles — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:04 pm
Tags: , , , ,

Little brown

Dusty dog

shadow at my

feet

Your blind eyes no

longer help you  pick a ball out of the air

leaping four times your height

cookies tossed at your mouth

now bounce off your nose.

Your sore hips

aren’t stable enough

for you to beg

or dance

or roll over

any more.

But still you follow

whenever I leave the room

attached to my ankle

just to be beside me,

my little brown

love

shadow.

.

.

.

When this little brown poodle pup came to live with us, his name was MacBeth.  As a family we debated whether to call him Dusty (after the Dusty Strings harps, since he’d be the only Dusty I could afford) or Shadow.  He became Dusty, but he was always Shadow.

 

 

poem-stitching

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:07 am
Tags: , , , , , ,

So long ago

sewing tiny pearl beads

around a gauzy net

to form a bridal halo

stitching dreams together.

Drops of crimson

from pricked fingers

drip upon the silk flower crown

white for purity

red for courage

blood for

hope.

.

.

.

Anniversary approaching.  You can see the veil in question on an older post here.

 

poem-drowning July 15, 2014

Filed under: OUTLANDERishness,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:21 pm
Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

Word came

that the ship was lost:

No survivors.

Her beloved

perished amid a storm

In her dreams

she sees him

swimming

swimming

swimming

swimming

swimming

swimming

swimming

sinking

sinking

sinking

drifting

drifting

drifting

on her

tears.

.

.

.

.

.

.

I suppose this could be about Echo in the Bone by Diana Gabaldon, but in fact, it came from listening to The Lost Wife by Alyson Richman.  It also reminds me of a family story.

My grandfather was a ship captain on the St. Lawrence Seaway.  One day, a knock came on the door, and my grandmother was told gravely that his ship had sunk, and he was lost.  This would no doubt have been far more traumatic, had grandpa not been sitting in the living room at the time. 

 

poem-extensions

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:16 pm
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Gifts of

more time or

instantly

lengthened hair:

Signs of desperation

somewhere.

 

 

poem-trysts

Filed under: Poetry,Reading — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:45 am
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

In quiet corners

obsession lingers

eyes stuck tight

while passion flames.

Wrapped in arms,

stroked, caressed,

paper thin

each moment savoured

with lingering longings

until with sighs,

the last

page is turned.

.

.

.

(Always so sad when a great book comes to an end)

 

poem-tolls July 14, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:16 pm
Tags: , , , , , , ,

He pays the toll

peck east

peck west

She’s the vehicle for

this journey

over-heavy for the road

burdened by billboards

Her engine rattles,

clanks,

thuds

down the road.

The convoy carries on

taking

a toll.

 

poem-dawn

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:03 am
Tags: , ,

Morning

doesn’t come until

she gets here.

 

poem- not tree July 13, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 4:35 pm
Tags: , , ,

T h i s   i s   a

t

e

e

.

.

.

(Snicker.  Sometimes I do things just to amuse myself.  Ignore me).

 

poem- tree

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:34 pm
Tags: , , , , ,

T   h  i  s     i  s     a

t

r

e

e

.

.

(with apologies to Joyce Kilmer, who’s right, ’cause it isn’t as lovely as the real thing)

 

poem- dancing

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:23 am
Tags: , , , , , ,

She wouldn’t dance.

But still

he spun her in circles

twisted her arms

flipped her over

spun her again

’til she was dizzy.

And yet

she wouldn’t dance.