Once again
the adage’s proven true,
when you point at someone,
three fingers point back to you.
What you’re calling out
is probably your issue, too;
the louder you shout,
the clearer the cue!
poem- leaving the keys for the new owners October 15, 2020
The house echoes.
Drapes she made hang on the windows,
the last pieces of her here,
except
the lingering scent of bread baked
months ago, as
her last messages of appreciation,
her last independent acts.
poem-rainy reminders October 11, 2020
Something is missing from my life:
the crack of the ax
winter’s firewood piled high
wood smoke rising from a chimney
the snapping from the grate
heat sinking into the bones
live fire, primordial comfort,
on a cold night, its golden, spitting light
shadow painting a picture of all we
require.
Poem- Stinky socks cinquains October 2, 2020
(These were fun demos written with my students as we worked through some poetry devices on “Poetry Friday-the Wednesday edition”)
Super stinky socks
So easily knee socks crease
Stinky socks stick to my shoes
They slurp when I pull them out.
But say! My socks still rock!
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Socks are mittens for feet
Comfort like a warm fire in winter.
My wooly socks hug my feet
My silent shout of happiness
declares my stinky socks the finest perfume in the world.
I like my socks.
(Can you find assonance, alliteration, consonance, hyperbole internal rhyme, metaphor, onomatopoeia, oxymoron, personification, simile, and understatement?)
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Poem- It’s NOT about the shoes? October 1, 2020
sometimes it’s ALL about the shoes.
‘Cause daring to wear those shoes
is daring to celebrate your self
your passion
your individuality.
I wear wild and funky shoes
because it’s about me in the shoes
and what they tell everyone else.
It’s definitely about the shoes.
Believe it.
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(and that is the whole premise behind the Nikki Knox stories! Check the link above if you love great shoes, too!)
poem- walk on a foggy day September 30, 2020
The clouds have come to Earth,
obscuring our panorama
narrowing the perspective
until the view is simply you and me:
this nebulous emergence,
hope and mystery.
poem- first flight September 25, 2020
A leaf grips tight
to where it sprung,
all through the summer storms.
But when autumn comes,
a leaf’s released,
to discover sky and more.
poem- hollow September 21, 2020
I can hoo-hoot in the empty rooms
a lost owl listening to an echo
where there used to be you.
poem-Emptying my mother’s house September 7, 2020
I tell myself,
In the process of creation,
her art fulfilled its purpose.
If the family has chosen what to keep
Freeing the rest to the universe
is just extending its mandate
not a betrayal to her
memory.
Shawn L. Bird 