Shawn L. Bird

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

memory- This One’s for Shawn August 9, 2013

Earlier this week, Diana Gabaldon dedicated her Daily Lines to me, and sent out to her 250,000 fans on Facebook and Twitter the message #ThisOnesForShawnLBird.  I was just remembering another time when my heart was warmed to bursting by a dedication from someone I looked up to.

Once upon a time, when I was 15 or so, a boy I adored worked once a week as a Disc Jockey on a late night radio show in Calgary.  Some nights, even though I lived 650 km away on the other side of the Rocky Mountains,  I could listen to him on the skip that happens when meteorological conditions were good.  One night I called him up to say I was listening, and he dedicated this song to me.  I have the dedication on tape, and when I hear it, it still chokes me up!  If you have fond memories of your first love, you may want to get out a handkerchief.

“This one goes all the way out to Kelowna, BC.  This one’s for Shawn…”

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(I sing “Share this thought with me” as “You shared the start with me”  Hmm.  Either way!

How about you?  Do you have fond memories of a very public dedication you received from someone special?  Tell us about it!

 

haiku- on the journey August 8, 2013

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:23 pm
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Gentle jade waters

leap in frothy white tutus

and wear down mountains

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As I was driving to Calgary today over the Rockies, I passed all sorts of lovely waterfalls with the prettiest pale green water.  As I drove along, of course I composed a poem!

 

poem-storming August 7, 2013

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:17 am
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Whitecaps roiling

Water boiling

Waves pitching

Whirlpools spinning

Pull out the spoon,

Sit down, drink up

the storm you’re stirring

in your cup.

 

poem- today August 6, 2013

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:27 pm
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Today

I know what is right

Today

I have seen weakness

Today

I have seen strength

Today

I have seen courage

Today

I have seen tenderness.

Today

I have seen evil

Today

I have seen good

Today

I have seen you

Today

You have seen me

Today

you know who I am

Today

I know who you are

Today

Amid your warlike screeches

I am nestled in peace.

 

poem- alliances

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:12 am
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You never know

it a small town

just where things lie.

That silly one might

be the daughter of the

richest man in town.

That sweet quiet one

might be carving up the

neighbour to feed to the cat.

The kid you bully

might be the teacher’s pet

or the principal’s kid.

Or both.

The athletic one you praise

might be a wash out tomorrow.

The artsy one

might become the town’s

favourite son.

The know-it-all nerd

may buy out your business.

You might decide

how people in town

should behave,

and spread gossip far and wide

but be warned.

In a small town,

you never know

who is connected

to whom,

you might be the one

who burns in the inferno

of your words.

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When we moved to a small town, I learned quickly that almost everyone is related to everyone else or has known them forever.  The world of social media is turning the entire planet into a small town, and this becomes truer than ever!  There is no anonymity on the internet.  But the interconnectedness is like the yarn basket after the cats have been playing.  You just never know where the strings lead.  

 

 

 

poem- flash and substance among sparrows and peacocks August 5, 2013

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 7:09 pm
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The sparrows are insulted

by the peacock’s brilliant tail,

Yet a peacock can not change itself

and sparrows are just dull.

Sparrows sing a gentle song

Peacocks bray loudly when they call

If sparrows are affronted, t’is

not the peacocks’ fault at all.

So if sparrows are insulted

they’ll find their own dull space

while peacocks enjoy themselves

with other bright, loud mates!

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Sparrows are insulted by

the crows’ great intellect

When problems need resolving

sparrows just don’t get it.

While sparrows stew in vapid pools

the crows make out a plan;

they analyse, they study,

they get in that garbage can!

Sure sparrows will gang up

and drive a crow away

but the crow will just think harder

and devour them the next day.

.

Those sparrows are a feisty lot

though they lack imagination.

Peacocks and crows are the impressive

ornithological creations!

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My father-in-law, a former biology professor and an award winning naturalist, kept a sparrow trap in his farm yard when he retired from U of C.  He considered sparrows an over populace species that stole the nesting boxes of the desirable more endangered species that he was trying to encourage- i.e. Purple martins, Western blue birds, Goldfinches, and the like.  I often wondered what the poor, dull little birds thought as they hopped around in the trap (which was a good size- about 5′ cube) waiting to be gassed.  (Humane deaths, all).  I often wondered what they thought of the more ‘exotic’ species that were able to explore his yard with impunity on the other side of their sparrow concentration camp.  What would they have made of the peacocks our friends keep, do you think?   The crows would come by the trap and try to figure out how to get in and have some sparrow dinner, but the opening was too small.  I’m sure the sparrows felt safe, but they were still the ones who were gassed in the end!  (Poor sweet little birds)

 

haiku- After the rain August 4, 2013

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:32 pm
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DSCN0616

 

my first video poem- Dear Sam Heughan

Filed under: OUTLANDERishness,Poetry,video — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:14 am
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It took a whole lot longer than I expected, but I managed to record a video, despite the objections of the dogs, the fact that apparently there is not enough light in my house to film a video at midnight for some reason, and the fact that YouTube no longer believes I am who I am, so I had to make a new channel!

I’ve been meaning to do this for ages, so I’m feeling quite accomplished!  Today we were at a wedding, and I’m still a gilded lily, so what better time, right?

Since the most popular poem on my blog (by a LONG shot) is Dear Sam Heughan that is where I began. (If you haven’t read it you may want to.  The Twitter debate at the end is entertaining).  Anyway, here I am, in all my animated splendour!  

Oh- sorry about the hair flipping.  I didn’t realise I do that quite so much! 😉  I’ll try to tone that down next time.

Also- YouTube offered me three options of mutated zombie type versions of myself for the thumbnail you see below.  I apologize that you have to see this.  Rest assured, the other two were worse.

Addendum: Diana Gabaldon made me feel like the most honoured person on the planet when amid a fire storm of the bizarre she dedicated her Daily Lines to me on August 5th.  I read those hashtags and positively GLOW!

 

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necessity, the mom August 3, 2013

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:51 am

Shawn L. Bird's avatarShawn L. Bird

Topic #137: What invention, as in something not yet invented (jetpack, teleportation ring, time machine) do you most need right now?

The fall that I started Grace Awakening, I also started a high interest low vocab novel I called #8. When Grace took over my life for six months as she told me her 150,000 word story, #8 languished as an outline and one chapter. When Grace was finished, I set to work on #8. I’m aiming for it to be completed at 15,000 words, so it’s a tenth of Grace’s size. You’d think it would have taken a tenth of the time- say eighteen days instead of 180, but no. For all its brevity, #8 has sat with ‘something’ not quite right for almost two years. Every once and awhile I pull it out and add a paragraph here, a chapter there, fine tune a paragraph…

View original post 239 more words

 

poem- modern illiteracy August 2, 2013

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 7:37 pm
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Each day she enters the library

trailing behind her friends to sign out a book-

one they suggest or something near that’s fat

and impressive.

“I could never read a book that thick!”

“I heard that author is great!”

She settles into her seat, and

during silent reading

she opens to the middle and  flips pages

occasionally looking at the cryptic shapes

arranged on the page to find words she knows,

but mostly her eyes are elsewhere as she turns

the page, stealthily,

wondering what others see when they read

wondering if they are pretending,

wondering if anyone notices.

At the end of each class,

its mysteries too deep to decipher

she drops the book into the library bin.

“Are you done already?”

“Yes. It was really good.”