Shawn L. Bird

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

poem- time travelling July 6, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:18 pm
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For my eighteenth birthday

He wrote me a song.

Flutes and strings danced

in my honour,

a musical farewell,

recorded on cassette.

I filled the rest of the tape

with a treasury of captured moments:

His playing, my laughter,

melancholy dreams.

All synthesized on

The Lost Tape.

.

Years of wondering where it went.

.

Today.  My birthday

I picked up an empty cassette case,

and it was not empty.

The case showed my face,

listed harp tunes by me, but inside

not me:

Ancient history.

A birthday present

from eighteen year old me

to middle-aged me,

magnetic taped

memories,

for time-travelling.

..

.

I feel inclined to add a photo, which I probably will remove later, so enjoy it while it’s here.  The composer of the song, compiler of the cassette, my grad escort.  Me at 18.  (I had just been swimming, excuse the hair). 😉

grad-sat-backs

 

poem- wishes

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 7:08 pm
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She likes a bad boy.

She likes the attitude,

the tats,

the danger,

the rebellion,

the dissatisfaction.

She likes that he’ll cheat

on his wife with her,

plan their future,

dream with her.

That woman doesn’t

deserve him, she says,

while she wishes.

That woman doesn’t

understand him, she says,

while she wishes.

He embraces her,

briefly.

When he leaves her

pregnant,

crushed,

jaded,

she’s surprised,

by all he’d revealed

to her before,

and she thinks it’s

his fault,

she’d wished.

.

.

.

.

Another sad example of, “If you keep doing what you’ve always done, you’ll keep getting what you’ve always got.”

 

poem-circles

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 5:02 am
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one quarter century

one half century

one century

blood linked

chain,

a circle

of life.

.

.

.

Happy birthday to me, in a rather auspicious year in our family.

 

poem- modern inconvenience July 5, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:23 pm
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The panorama of lake and hills

lies peacefully before me.

The  susurration of wind

the patter of rain on

leaves and pine needles

is mountain music.

Heaven on earth

marred by

that incessant RV A/C.*

.

.

.

*Recreational Vehicle Air Conditioning

 

OMG it just turned off!   (and the very next minute the music started.  Sigh).

 

poem- Oh Christy

Filed under: Poetry,Teaching — Shawn L. Bird @ 7:59 am
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Oh Christy,

who was the teacher

who provoked you?

Who was the teacher

who shredded your confidence,

made you feel powerless,

alone,

stupid?

.

Who?

.

For surely somewhere,

you sustained a deep hurt

that is still a festering wound,

that causes you to lash out

like an injured dog,

irrationally,

deflecting your pain with today’s power.

Some time ago,

there was a hurt,

that we are paying for.

.

Christy,

A counselor

would be cheaper.

.

.

.

It’s just a theory.  But it would explain a lot.

 

poem- there July 4, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 4:24 pm
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Who you were there

eyes lit

smile glistening

passion sparkling

walking hand in hand

through the summer rain

fueled poetry

and wishful thinking.

Who you were there,

who I was then,

both left behind.

 

 

poem-planning

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:28 am

There is a plan before me

laid out step by step

But too much sits between

the steps for simple rising.

It seems so easy from a distance,

but closer to,

while the run is clear

the rise is high

and requires diligence

to climb.

.

.

.

.

(a little grumble about my current WIP.  It may have been laid out with ridiculously thorough pacing and all key events and turns, but those bones require a great deal of flesh and sometimes I forget what I’m doing!)

 

poem-karma

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:29 am
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You told the kids

he was useless, stupid, weak.

You bullied him

into believing it himself.

You kicked him

out the door, and mocked his

adoring devotion to you.

You didn’t deserve him

and now someone better

has discovered a treasure.

So while you sleep

from man to man,

like the good Christian woman

you always claimed to be,

your kids now see what

you had blinded them to.

That kind, loving man

is finally getting the relationship

he deserves.

.

.

,

Just heard yet another story of some woman abusing her kind-hearted man, and I had a flashback.  Excuse the rant.  (cough).

 

poem- nerves July 3, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 4:36 pm
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When

You sat beside me

I couldn’t find the gears

on this car I drive every day.

Your half drunk bottle of water

has become the  holy relic in a

 smile bestowing, mobile shrine

to your presence next

to me.

 

poem- tears

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:10 am
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Her

howling,

stomping,

tearful

tantrum done,

the sky is blushing

with embarrassment.