Snow falling outside the window
Snow falling on the venues at Sochi
While I watch winter,
I dream of hot water:
Olympic bath time.
(They don’t offer a medal for shivering
and that’s my best winter activity).
poem- wishes February 17, 2014
The togetherness
stretched between
man-cave and girl-zone,
in dutiful words
and sharing kisses on the stairs.
The silences
listen for the echoes
of footfalls
and wonder
what togetherness
means.
poem- parents and child February 16, 2014
What you wanted to be
Everything you wanted to see
Was it you who lied?
Or was it me?
What dreams did you hide
in the tears you cried?
Was it you who lied?
Or was it me?
When your mother sighed
When your father denied
When you tried to foresee
Was it you who lied?
or was it me?
Were we lacking in pride?
Why could you not confide?
We simply could not see
so was it you who lied?
or was it me?
poem- listening February 15, 2014
Gather closely
ask the questions
hear the stories
translate
interpret
synthesize
listen
poem- card store holidays February 14, 2014
Florists
and card stores
declare a forced affair:
“Purchase a card and dozen roses
or your affections are suspect!”
I prefer
memories carved
each morning from
all the days before
in a collection of kisses
stretching back through
years of anniversaries
Memories of Mister and Missus.
(Though notes are nice,
and I like roses, on sale).
poem- hoarder February 13, 2014
She hoards memories
In books and art.
She hoards accomplishment
In clothes and fabric
She holds tightly
Against insecurity
Things are a bulwark
Against uncertainty.
She creates a
measure of control
against anger, anxiety
and angst.
When she is safe,
Secure and satisfied
The barriers may
Be burnt, but for now
She clings to what was.
poem- sick February 11, 2014
Snuffling with fuzzy head,
her frigid feet
in search of heat,
she creeps, shivering between the sheets.
Piled high with fill from sheep and geese
duvets do not suffice to thaw her feet of ice.
As her teeth tremble a timpanic tintannabulation
of unsympathetic vibrations
She seeks cessation of sensation
in the oblivion of sleep.
poem- lit up February 10, 2014
You read
lit up,
laughing.
You read
looking
into the depths.
You read
seeing beyond
what is
to what can be.
You read
lit up
and light me,
too.
.
.
.
(In praise of my wonderful editor, Vikki, who looks at the messes I get myself into, and asks all the right questions to help me find my way again).
poem- what are you saying? February 8, 2014
The dress is tight
and youthful.
You beam, when people say
“You look great!”
But from a distance
they observe
the bulges from
the botched cosmetic surgery,
and the fake parts glued here and there.
They sigh how sad it is
that you feel you need to try so hard
to be a plastic doll
instead of you.
True beauty is not
about artificial expectations
it’s about being confident
as you are
and celebrating
that your uniqueness
is beautiful.
poem- alone February 7, 2014
Alone
in the spare bed
preserving the sleep
of the regular bed mate
thankful for the heat of
canine companions
who don’t complain
when I cough.
Shawn L. Bird 