We could just call them nocturnal birds
The same bouncing soaring as swallows:
Dips,
Dives,
Digesting insects to equal their body weight.
Sleep away the day, just hanging out
Waiting for their night flight,
hand-sized chihuahuas in hang-gliders
amazing mosquito munching moves
Utility belts unnecessary to such cute, useful beasts.
Moon dancers wending wings
rising through summer skies.
Poem: Naah Na-na-na Na-na Na-na Bats, man! March 26, 2024
magnetic poem- Or Maybe 42? September 6, 2022
I have a lot of magnetic poetry kits. I really do need to play with them more. Do you have words on your fridge? What poem is there?
Title: Or maybe 42?
Text reads:
man
you manipulate my world
you judge
this purple dress
ugly
You need people.
discover delicate delirious plot
live by iron sea
ancient forest enormous lake
search the empty vision.
sit chant whisper
explore answer to life
it is easy:
make beautiful moments
dream happy eternity
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(PS. Do you get the allusion in the title and how it relates to the poem?)
poem-Of elephant and blind men July 20, 2021
While you are shouting you’re right.
Check
who else is.
There’s always
more to
know.
poem-letter from the war office November 25, 2020
The first message is a head’s up.
Someone in the building has tested Covid positive and is off to quarantine.
“You will be contacted by an official in the health authority is there is potential that you were in contact with someone while they were contagious. Carry on until then.”
Potential: having or showing the capacity to become or develop into something in the future.
You know, like how two people in a building have the potential to pass one another, greet one another, use the same facilities, sit in the same chairs, use the same keyboards, sit next to one another at lunch, even though you don’t know them and they don’t know you. You’d identify them how?
I think the more accurate message would be “You will be contacted by an official in the health authority is there is likelihood that you were in sustained contact with someone while they were contagious.”
Let’s be real. Potential is everywhere. Give us the hope of less likelihood!
Several hundred people wait in our masks with bated breath, wondering who will be the ‘lucky’ winner of a lottery worthy of Shirley Jackson.
Pandemic adventures as we attempt to surf the second wave.
poem-pity November 23, 2020
Like Red Rose Tea:
only in Canada?
confused identity.
Reindeer
are just caribou.
Who knew?
poem-so like us January 31, 2020
Remember
the necklace you gave me.
Four golden strands I wanted to love
for your sake.
Every time I wore it,
it turned into a tangled disaster,
wrapped up in itself.
So like us.
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poem- Minus 26 degrees January 13, 2020
The moon lingers in blue sky,
listening to Styrofoam™ squeaking boots
on crispy, cold snow.
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poem- That Year October 30, 2019
She loves you
Diamonds in the air
Twinkling in
Street lights’ silence.
Just a snow shovel’s scraping
In the distance.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Leaf buds, bursting hope.
Unfolding pastel visions
Relief.
She loves you
Summer green
Heat hovers in the air
Living breathing furnace.
And you know that can’t be bad.
Golden light illuminates scarlet visions.
I will never say you’re beautiful
I’ll be your friend forever.
Yeah, yeah, yeah
poem- being Charlie Brown November 19, 2018
The football is set, with enthusiastic support,
This is going to be such a great help!
But instead of the football being held at the perfect angle for the kick that sends it through the goal posts,
Lucy has snatched it up again. She shrugs.
You wanted to kick for THIS game?
Oh no! The game you get to kick for is three months from now!
Just hold your foot up until then, will you?
poem-thou dost protest too much November 1, 2018
Each act ahead comes
from what’s behind.
We are all walking wounded
trailing bandages
that tangle us,
tie us,
trip us
into our future.
Wear a blind fold:
we cannot look into a mirror to see the pain
etched across our faces.
See the bandages?
Trip over them
leaving the bar.
Scream yourself hoarse,
stamp your feet.
Shout “I’m fine, fine, FINE!” *
Ah. Methinks,
The lady doth protest too much.*
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(*Allusions: In Louise Penny’s wonderful Inspector Gamache books, Ruth Zardo has written a book of poetry where FINE is an acroynym for F*cked up, Insecure, Neurotic, Egotistical. I’d say that applies here, too. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much” is from the play within a play in Shakespeare’s Hamlet).
Shawn L. Bird 