Shawn L. Bird

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

poem-preservation June 10, 2019

We need to be respectful

of tender psyches, mental illness,

all the agonies of existence.

We need to be respectful

of our own tenderness

and pained existence.

When being gentle of their tender troubles,

makes aches worse for ourselves,

who needs to respect whom?

Draw battle lines,

or at least find a bastion

against cries

calling you to your destruction,

dragging you to drown in the moat of their fragility.

Be respectful of your own precious sanity.

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poem-cure May 26, 2017

The demons are hiding around corners

lurking in the shadows

watching you.

I know you feel the weight

of their gaze

hear the clink of their weapons

every day.

On the sunny days,

you outrun them

find smiles to return to those

around you

in their circles of care.

Other days,

smiles are barred growls,

the glow of sinister eyes pacing

around you,

squeezing life and hope

as their circle crushes in,

suffocating you.

Your demons on their unwitting backs

Your demons in their unwitting smiles

Your demons on their unwitting feet

Your demons in their expectations

Your incessant demons

invisible to others,

writhing,

circling,

just

there.

 

 

 

 

 

poem-point of view May 5, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:39 am
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So often

what I think is a conversation about me

you think is a conversation about you.

My feelings

aren’t just feelings, they’re an attack.

But they’re not.

They belong to me

and they’re allowed to be

what they are.

I long for you to acknowledge

how I feel

what I wonder

what I want

isolated from your sense

of inadequacy.

I’m tired

tired

tired of your issue

always overshadowing

any of my concerns.

Mental illness

is annoyingly

narcissistic.

Please consider other points of view.

It isn’t always about you.

Really.

Sometimes it’s about me.

 

poem- quivers October 6, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:54 pm
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Your anxiety

ripples the air

pushes and pulls me,

threatens my calm.

I’d breathe you my peace

but you inhale all I have

then you rustle and quiver,

vibrating me

into your distress.

The airlines say,

put on your own oxygen mask first.

I need my air.

 

 

 

poem-leave September 25, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:57 am
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The dog pulls you down the street.

Your eyes are hazy,

Your hair is wild.

Your beard’s unkempt.

Your steps thud awkwardly like you’ve forgotten how to walk.

If the outside reflects the inside,

you definitely need some time

to regain your health again.

 

poem-lonely May 20, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:24 am
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I do not know what to do

about your screams.

It seems you plunge

to unplumbable depths

and I do not know

how to swim.

The mists of melancholy

shroud the waters,

coat you in agony,

fog reason, and

I fear I am not lighthouse

enough to guide you home.

 

poem- startle May 18, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 4:31 pm
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No sneaking

No whispers

No clandestine act

Engine patters

Garage door rumbles

Back door slams

Yet a happy greeting yields hours of anxieties.

Something is not working here.

 

 
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