Isn’t it strange
how what you imagine will captivate you forever
can become stale and disgusting with time?
Like fruit fallen too ripe,
stinking beneath the tree,
time sometimes does no favours
to distant hearts.
poem-preservation January 2, 2016
Distance offered safety
Communication was a precious gift
words in letters to save, tied up in ribbon,
opened and savoured.
Today how do they preserve memories?
poem-seeds January 1, 2016
We are planted
with potentiality;
white blanketed rest bids us wait
until spring gives us the urge to rise
to skies and find our fate.
poem-palindrome December 31, 2015
The end of the year we look back
and look forward
at the palindrome of linear time
and perception.
All that is gone remains.
All that will be exists now.
Time is a railroad
vision rides back and forth.
Sequence offers peace.
.
.
At the moment I have 15151 blog followers, and pondering that on the last day of the year led to this poem for you. Happy New Year to you!
Blog resolutions
Like 2015, I resolve to post a new poem each day.
Additionally, I resolve to share a story or two with you over the course of the year.
Personally,
I plan to submit poems or stories to at least 6 contests or publications.
I plan to eat more vegetables, get out for more walks, and to finish my Masters. Additionally, I hope to have 2 books edited and off to my agent and 2 of my in progress novel first drafts completed.
How about you? Do you have blog or writing goals for 2016?
poem-new December 30, 2015
It’s time:
sublime possibilities await.
Face the gate of the new year
coming near,
without fear.
Can’t wait!
It’s here.
poem-circle December 29, 2015
The year is circling.
The light returns again.
Minute by minute
it’s a new dawn.
Loss is behind us
What’s coming is new,
so welcome beginnings
and good things for you.
poem-wanderer December 28, 2015
Death walks softly
cloaked in invisibility.
You rose from bed,
settled in your chair,
and Death tapped you on the shoulder;
bid you follow.
But you said, “Wait,
I have something to do.”
You closed your eyes, and arrived in my room.
I felt you there, befuddled and lost, and so I told you
To move toward the light,
I told you I loved you.
I told you to say hello to Grandma and Grandpa.
And you tracked the light, through my bedroom door
up through my roof, and I looked at the clock: 8:37
The moment you left for heaven.
poem-Brittany December 27, 2015
So small,
but her voice rings out,
bell-like and true
She holds tightly to the tune.
Iridescent cherry curves of caramel.
Beauty under pressure,
vibrating on my lap
music therapy for what ails me.
.
.
A little metaphor. Here’s the Brittany in question:
Literally true- she keep her tuning amazingly well- I didn’t play for a month and every note was still right! Unheard of in a harp, really. Also, the strings are under nearly a ton of pressure, the soundboard bellies out quite dramatically. (They say a harp sounds at its most beautiful just before it explodes…) My Brittany is cherry wood in the sound box, pillar and harmonic curve, but Baltic birch on the sound board. She’s a very beautiful little harp.
Shawn L. Bird 