The day after she turned fifty,
She found four spider veins
She was sure weren’t there
when she was forty-nine.
poem- blinded March 8, 2014
Nearly 100 years old
Macular degeneration stolen sight
Ears failing
trapped in a blurry, muzzy world
When I am his age
will the genetics he passed along
place me in his world?
Will I be able to do what I love without sight or sound?
So I practice
typing this poem without my glasses.
Hoping for the best
like aging.
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.
birthday thoughts July 6, 2013
Today I am half my father’s age.
We creep toward century and half century
No one believes either of us.
Thanks for those genes.
My body is rebelling
against my good nature.
There is a pain in my foot
new since yesterday.
I have no tolerance
for such nonsense.
Beautiful shoes
are essential to life!
Fighting the act of
stubborn hormonal
belly fat with half rations and
gym trips. Getting stronger
but the scale remains
stubborn.
A celebration
is in order.
There are no
crinkles or wrinkles yet.
If my hair is grey,
it’s also blue, fuchsia,
and purple.
The nose I hate
sports a jewel.
Celebrate what you dislike,
turn it around.
Find diamond in coal.
Time to photograph
the evidence.
This is me.
Last year before
a half century pivots.
Dad’s second half was better
than the first.
All I dreamed is coming true.
My second half century
will be euphoric!
.
.
I have a photo shoot arranged for today for some new author photos. I’ll post the results when they’re in.
July 13- click MEDIA KIT and ABOUT SHAWN for some of the shots. A very talented photographer!
June 19, 2010
It’s odd how you can leave a friend for nine years, then feel surprised when he turns up looking a decade older. In fact, you feel betrayed, as if he’s aged you along with him, and personally dragged you a decade closer to the grave. (Ian Weir. Daniel O’Thunder. p. 61)
I chuckled when I read this paragraph.
I suppose it shouldn’t surprise us that our friends and family members are aging as the years go by. It’s always a surprise when some young relative appears to have shot up several inches in height, dropped a voice an octave, or turned from girl to woman. We ponder that we ourselves haven’t changed at all, and yet those kids prove just how much time is going by.
Gathering with old friends also reminds us how time doesn’t matter. We may not have seen each other in a decade, but the relationships are easy and natural. Shared history makes an easy link and conversations are picked up as if they were left yesterday.
Time marches on, but what are we doing with the time? Are we marching closer to the grave without anything to show for our time here, or are we making the most of the years, leaving a legacy for those who follow?
Shawn L. Bird 