Shawn L. Bird

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

poem- imagination trumps reality April 26, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 6:19 pm
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“How can you write

about being drunk

if you’ve never been drunk?”

the boys ask, grinning.

I shrug, and hand them some papers.

“You tell me.  Did I do it?”

They read,  groan, gasp and sigh.

“I didn’t see that coming,” one mutters.

Finally they look up at me with muted faces.

“Well?” I ask

“Oh, yeah,” one grunts.  “You did.”

The others nod and grunt in agreement.

“But how?” asks another shaking his head.

“I could imagine what it’s like to be drunk,

and so I never needed to drink.

I could have fun without needing to dull my senses

or find artificial courage.

I don’t drink.  I’ve never done drugs.

I don’t need to, because

I have imagination.”

“Huh,” they say,

and class begins.

.

.

.

I know that my experience is not at all common.  My parents were social drinkers, but I never saw either of them intoxicated.  I didn’t like the taste of alcohol, and felt no need to drink to be cool.  If I went to a party, I was disgusted how the drinkers all turned into idiots.

My high school friends didn’t drink. We went out together, had a great time, and the next morning we remembered what happened and we didn’t have a headache!  We had a remarkable amount of common sense! 😉

I have addicted relatives.  They are also a good lesson of how lives can be destroyed.

I am routinely astonished by students who have never met *anyone* who doesn’t drink.  They think all adults drink.  Many of the adults in their lives only socialize in an inebriated stupor and they don’t know there is another way to interact with people. I have never tried marijuana or other recreational drugs either.  I don’t need to medicate my emotions or do weird things.  I need all the energy I have, so I can’t afford to send my motivations up in smoke!   I can’t imagine just taking some pill off someone at a party.  That’s not fun, that’s just stupid (and dangerous).

I don’t presume to tell anyone else what to do, and I actually support legalization, to remove the criminal component. I consider it a health issue.

One thing about my clean life style- it frees up room in the budget for my Fluevogs! 🙂

PS. I’ve linked to the snippet that they read.

 

haiku- course work April 25, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:39 pm
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This academic paper

is boring me to tears

Sorry, professor.

.

.

#poetrynotAPA

(my hashtag when I am fed up with citations).

 

haiku-farewell

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:41 am
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You speak gentle words

parting with empty promises.

Our dream has died

 

poem- reading a historical mystery April 24, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:01 am
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Small gawky boy

Nose like the beak of an eyas,

I pass a glance to his hands

bronzed and thin upon the table

and find myself time travelling.

Immersed in visions of those hands

Stroking keys, coaxing music,

Mesmerizing me. Those hands

On other arms years ago.

I blink back to now and stare as he stumbles,

Endearingly uncoordinated, into a wall.

I watch him in a crowd, catch the flash of his smile

And am transported into that smile

Gleaming at me in another time

from another face.

Wondering at my sanity,

I check his files,

Find the name I know from long ago

and understand:

History is written in our blood

And carved upon our bones.

The tilt of our heads,

The rhythm of our laughter

The angle of our shoulders,

the shape of our souls,

Are revealed in the genetic mystery

That can be read through time,

by those who see the story.

 

poem- tonight

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:25 am
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Tonight

walking to the mailbox

I am stalked by mist

The lights blink through

the neighbours trees:

stars above,

down town below.

It’s so black between the lamps,

I expect deep quiet,

beneath the rustle of new leaves,

but the highway hums in the distance.

Trucks travel with an insistent drone

that climbs the hill to my house,

and silence suffers

in the hustle of their incessant transitions.

 

 

 

poem- 11710 April 23, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:12 am
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I dreamt of you

for eleven thousand

seven hundred

and ten nights.

You spoke in

waking dreams.

You whispered

in the blackness,

called across the miles:

Hold on.

I’m here for you.

Stay.

You have commitments.

But after

eleven thousand

seven hundred

and ten nights

you called

to tell me

those words did not

apply to you.

Hold on.

I’m here for you.

Stay.

You have commitments!

I said to you,

but it was too late by then.

I dreamt of you

for eleven thousand

seven hundred

and ten nights,

until I learnt that

you weren’t really there

at all.

 

 

 

3 dimensions of art April 22, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:59 pm

I love the way this black out poem is formatted, so I’m reblogging so I can find it later! So nice!

 

poem- opinion twist

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 4:21 pm
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I thought

t’was so simple:

It’s not like that;

It’s like this.

But I’m reading

and discovering,

there’s information

I’ve missed.

It’s quite a bit

like that, surely

but it’s also

like this.

That’s a problem

with learning

one cannot dismiss,

Neither black, nor white,

it’s one

great

grey

abyss!

 

 

 

poem- expansion April 21, 2014

Filed under: Poetry,Pondering — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:44 pm
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We grow

to fill the space we have.

Over time, each room fills

with things that we could live without

but gather like memories.

If the deadline is far away

we stretch to fill the time,

break the project into small parts

or forget about it until the final moments

We should expand

into our opportunities

while we have time and space

to grow.

 

poem- and

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:00 pm
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She saw it in his eyes

and

tilted her head modestly

hiding her smile

while he tried desperately to

catch her attention.

.

She saw it in his eyes

and

extended her left hand

to accept the ring,

the sign of promise.

.

She saw it in his eyes

and

handed back the ring

letting him go

no regrets.

.

She saw it in his eyes

and

welcomed him beside her,

his fears conquered,

stood at the altar,

moved into the future.

.

She saw it in his eyes

and

held the babies close

while he gushed

about the woman he admired

.

She saw it in his eyes

and

let him grieve the loss

as they left behind

wishful thinking

.

She saw it in his eyes

and

embraced their passion

commitment

longevity.

.

She saw it in his eyes

and

each time he was broken

she brought out the glue

to piece him back together

held him tightly

.

She saw it in his eyes

and

let him be,

let all enfold,

and

it was

fine.