Shawn L. Bird

Original poetry, commentary, and fiction. All copyrights reserved.

poem-tenaciousness March 11, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:52 am
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He walks with a personal cloud

dulling his world, blurring his perceptions.

Walling him in, between tendrils of fog

freezing him in place to avoid falling off the precipice.

Her arms are open with devotion and she calls to him,

but her voice bounces off rocks and mist.

Their mutual affections miss each other

in the haze, but both are sincere and will still be there

when the fog lifts

(or he goes over the cliff).

 

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poem-three March 8, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:21 am
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twelve

one

two

three

o’clock.

This hotel room is absent of you,

No lovers’ talk,

just me,

myself,

and seven o’clock is coming far

too soon.

 

 

 
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