Angry men are glass
When they shatter
Their shards slice:
they destroy what matters.
They cut up lives,
lose the love they amassed.
Poem- Cold Comfort pantoum August 24, 2022
COLD COMFORT
(by Shawn Bird and the 2021 En 11-A class)
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Something burns on a winter night
I smell the smoke and see the fire
Reflections on the snow are bright
The dreams to which I aspire
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I smell the smoke and see the fire
What hopes linger in the dark
The dreams to which I aspire
Rise to the sky in flickering sparks
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What hopes linger in the dark
Cradling cocoa in my hands
Rise to the sky in flickering sparks
My heart longs to dance
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Cradling cocoa in my hands
Warm steam tickling my nose
My heart longs to dance
And waken my frost-bitten toes
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Warm steam tickling my nose
The family encircles the flames
And waken my frost-bitten toes
Relaxing after winter games
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The family encircles the flames
Reflections on the snow are bright
Relaxing after winter games
Something burns on a winter night
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A pantoum is written in quatrain stanzas with lines 2 and 4 of each stanza repeating as lines 1 and 3 of the subsequent stanza until the last stanza, which circles back to the beginning, with line 2 being line 3 of the first stanza and line 4 being the first line of the poem. There are no rhythm rules so line lengths can vary. It is amazing how impactful this repetition proves to be.
If you try it, do post a link to your pantoum in the comment section!
poem- feeling beachy November 18, 2020
Crashing waves
Splashing children
Deep thinking trickles like sand
I’m seeking peace:
waves wash over me.
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Demo cinquain poem for class today. Kids chose theme of beach, and I wrote a line with a different poetic device in each: alliteration, assonance, consonance, onomatopoeia, internal rhyme. Turns out, it sounds better in reverse, so that’s the version you see here.
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poem-they’re thinning the trees November 12, 2020
Pines and spruce tower
ninety feet into the air
a wall of green
a squirrel playground.
Broken by the last windstorm
Branches the size of adult legs snapped,
tangled,
blocking the road,
risking the roof.
With each roar of the chainsaw
years are cut away.
Now, we see the lights of town
glistening below.
Greenery sacrificed for urban beauty.
Our new view
comes with grief for the scent of spruce
in the waving wind.
poem-then they peeled back their faces November 5, 2020
then they peeled back their faces
Read this
you said to me.
I poured over words
with the focus of any girl
trying to impress her crush.
Oh, how the story spoke hidden horror!
Everyone in disguise.
No one revealing their true selves.
Forty years meditating on those masks.
2020! Society in masquerade!
Kindness, care, concern: all fake.
The true horror’s been revealed.
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-growing August 28, 2020
One small change today
One gift of time
One contribution to a cause
One life-lesson contemplated
One old idea reconsidered
One step toward wisdom
won each day.
poem- fade June 2, 2020
Certainty sits in my throat while
rain weeps uneasy farewell
to the ambulance.
She will not fare well.
She is failing, fragile.
Rain washes tenuous existence
down the street in ripples
and rivulets.
It’s all downhill from here.
poem- seeing May 31, 2020
I see a new person now.
The years’ baggage-
so much bitterness and resentment-
has disappeared like lost luggage.
She stands at the Baggage Claim,
befuddled
then teeters down the hall,
oblivious to its loss.
This peaceful creature
is new.
There is no room to hold the past
against her.
poem-flick May 28, 2020
Strike the match;
light that candle;
defeat the dark.
Spark.
Sputter.
That tiny wick
won’t brighten
anyone’s despair.
Spark.
Sputter.
Little wicks are a waste of wax.
Candle melt-down.
Find a wick you can trim
For light that won’t dim.
Shawn L. Bird 