Eyes forward
Seeing what he wants to see.
Ears closed to cries or criticism.
Fill out the forms
Check the boxes.
Everyone must fit somewhere,
conformity is the only rule.
Follow the tracks.
poem-lasting January 28, 2016
Don’t be a rose,
be a carnation.
Roses have thorns and
are wilting within a day.
Carnations have character
and they stick around for weeks.
There’s no pomp about carnations
they’re happily frilly and fun.
Rose are high maintenance
and will make you bleed.
poem- butterflies October 31, 2015
She remembers long ago
when she’d catch his glances like butterflies,
flitting, fleeting, flickering glimpses,
darting from above a smile
of surreptitious wistfulness.
She’d swallow his longing
so the fluttering was within her,
and gaze back,
captivated, until they
trembled together
in the net.
poem-curled October 30, 2015
You are landscape:
hills curled around valleys,
shoulder arced over head
thighs a rounded panorama.
You are pushed up against darkness,
it puddles beneath your breasts,
but waken, beauty.
Light lingers on your glistening skin;
dawn caresses your body,
an invitation to fall in love with day.
.
.
I’m admiring the art on my wall again. This poem is written about this drawing: https://shawnbird.com/2015/02/21/poem-the-light-returns/ How thankful I am for Elaine’s skills. The artist in me greets the artist in thee! Namaste.
poem- pickle poetry October 13, 2015
Your jar of pickled poems–
cheek puckering poetry,
sour smiles behind glass–
makes me laugh.
.
.
.
My students handed in their poetry collections today. Among them is a jar with poems written on green pickle shaped papers. 🙂 Bethany wins cutest poetry project. Too bad it wasn’t a contest. (Hmm. Maybe next year?!)
poem- gulf October 4, 2015
The gulf grows wider
as she waits for an apology
he doesn’t know is needed.
poem-waving September 20, 2015
Between the slats of the Venetian blinds,
I see outside the window, to frenzied frolicking
blue spruce bouncing
pine tree pirouetting
maple making waves
beneath a grey sky
dancing in time to my wind chime’s tune.
poem- extra-sensory perception September 14, 2015
I see through poet’s eyes
life recorded in metaphor
ideas dancing with possibilities.
I hear through poet’s ears
the humming of memory
the clatter of change
the sibilance of serenity
I touch through poet’s hands
hard thoughts,
rough realities,
soft dreams.
I smell through a poet’s nose
freshly mown hay of a summer day
leaves burning in an autumn evening
I taste through a poet’s tongue
the sourness of betrayals
the sweetness of hope
The poet has an infinity of senses
that reach into history
and unravel mysteries.
poem- hmm June 27, 2015
What does it mean
that you wander through those hills,
hide between the rocks and burrow under roots?
What does it mean
that you listen to the birds,
head cocked in concentration for their words?
What does it mean
when your eyes turn to the peaks,
houses and humanity left behind your mind?
What does it mean
that spaces stretch to pain,
hubris becomes agony and no one is the same?
poem- string June 25, 2015
I’m stringing together words
connecting us like beads
winding threads
capturing beauty that flashes in the light
I’m stringing us tightly together
knotting now so we can
recreate this moment
when we fear we are unravelling.
Shawn L. Bird 