That was way too much
. cheesecake, Valentine.
This queasy belly surges
. with regret.
We may love chocolate, but
. a little is better than
. a lot.
Your love is sweet enough,
. perhaps.
poem-cheesey love story February 17, 2024
poem-cold memories January 16, 2024
When Pluto was a planet
You cleared your neighbourhood
Scooped all the negativity
Flung it to far reaches
You spun in your orbit
So well rounded.
We wanted to come along
But your journey is long
and oh, so cold.
Where you are looking
impacts what you see.
I’m looking at you.
You’re not looking at me.
Now Pluto’s a dwarf planetoid
because it doesn’t bring friends
on its journey,
like staying along is what a
far out, cold planet wants.
Remember when Pluto was a planet
and there was a we.
poem-As Once Agreed January 5, 2024
I will write you a poem
full of emotion
. overflowing with good words.
Do you feel it? All I mean
. to say?
Words of longing–
. Oh! The passion!
. Woe. The loss.
I will write you a poem
. then I will hide it
. deep within, where all the
. best poems
. linger.
Poem- A potato fork poem August 23, 2022
A POTATO FORK POEM
(for Brenda)
.
Fellow forks, beware!
Do stay away from here!
Brenda takes us
then she breaks us.
Oh tremble! Feel fear!
Come only if you dare!
.
Digging rocks and boulders
(Putting bodies in the ground?)
Brenda will abuse you
Aggressively use you
Your handle’s snapping sound
Means you won’t get older.
.
Forks, do NOT come near!
Get the fork out of here!
poem- it’s raining May 6, 2020
I’m chilled to the bone.
I wish for a wood stove:
that crackle and flash,
heat that sinks in deep,
defines cozy comfort,
makes me want to sleep.
I can hear my mother,
If you’re cold, put on a sweater!
I want a wood stove:
the summer scent on logs,
I want
warm feet on a hassock,
hot cup of tea,
well-written mystery.
Fine, Mother.
I’ll get a sweater, too.
poem-falsifying March 10, 2020
Oh false friend!
Yesterday, blue skies smiling sweetly,
warm sun embraces,
led to
short sleeves and picnic tables.
Today, an inch of new snow tops the table
and sky is full of malice,
tiny shards of ice,
stabbing the heart of spring.
Winter wins another round.
poem- prep July 14, 2018
Beneath a cloudless blue sky
I feel the storm coming,
black clouds gathering.
Could they reflect black shirts?
I ponder,
seriously,
if I should be building false walls
to hide those who will be escaping tyranny.
I wonder,
if I am far enough from a border to avoid
occupation.
A century ago,
they didn’t understand the signs,
but now we do.
Those who read are the first removed
when the evil rises.
Do all those kids who demanded,
“Why do we have to learn this?”
remember that their teachers said,
“So you’ll see the signs.”
“So it will never happen again.”
“Remember, they elected Hitler;
“they heiled and fell for his lies,
“because they wanted to believe their superiority,
“wanted a scapegoat for their troubles.”
There can be no excuses.
Shall I buy bricks or drywall?
Where will I construct false bottoms?
Where will we hide in the resulting rubble,
when the jack boots stomp through?
Another cristelnacht, this time in New York?
The hammock swings its consolation:
It can’t happen here.
It won’t happen here.
How many said those words a century
ago?
How many grew to knowing the meaning
of fear?
poem-when? April 1, 2018
Oh winter!
Release your tenacious grip!
Quit dripping this mix
of snow and rain,
that piles up in my yard.
It’s making me insane!
It’s April now, and white
should be from blossoms,
not snow falls; this isn’t right!
Oh, winter, we’re through with you here;
go visit the Southern hemisphere!
NaPoWriMo 2018 #1
poem- sheets February 11, 2018
The sheets are clean,
fresh outside,
brought in,
crisp newness,
start again.
Wait for you,
to dint the pillow,
breathe deeply in sleep,
inhale promise,
clean sheets.
poem-interpretation February 6, 2018
The Lord of All Knowledge,
Gatekeeper of Truth,
says the poem means this.
Generations of readers bow
before this wisdom,
even though they don’t see it,
can’t believe it,
they just accept it.
When the poet reads
the critic’s piece,
she laughs and laughs
at the irony of such arrogant
assumptions!
Oh, student!
Good reader!
There are no errors
of interpretation in poetry!
Your experiences show you a meaning,
and if you can find lines to support,
your responses are just as valid as any critic’s.
(So the famous poet said to me,
and he should know).
Shawn L. Bird 