I regret
giving you
the last
ice cream
treat.
poem- stand up June 19, 2014
“Why are teachers even bothering to picket,
when you aren’t getting strike pay any more?”
he asked.
I told him it was because teachers are moralists
who are defending democracy
and fair working & bargaining conditions
against a corrupt government:
A government that ignores the court rulings
spends billions of tax payers’ dollars appealing
judgments by the Supreme Court
and the United Nations saying they
are WRONG to steal from our kids.
It will pay billions for a stadium roof,
but will not pay for educating its children.
I told him that in such a war,
pay is a small thing.
We will fight, because if our government
succeeds in destroying OUR union
then every other working person in this province
is in peril.
If OUR contracts can be shredded with impunity,
so can YOURS!
We are fighting for YOUR rights
and for our students’ right to a properly funded education
against a government with an agenda
to destroy public education and the middle class.
We’re fighting for YOU! I told him.
“Oh,” he said.
poem- change May 15, 2014
I would name you
Summer Sun,.
gift you with warm days,
laughter,
joy.
I would take away your darkness,
fill you with light,
give your words flight,
embrace hope
in your future.
poem- 11710 April 23, 2014
I dreamt of you
for eleven thousand
seven hundred
and ten nights.
You spoke in
waking dreams.
You whispered
in the blackness,
called across the miles:
Hold on.
I’m here for you.
Stay.
You have commitments.
But after
eleven thousand
seven hundred
and ten nights
you called
to tell me
those words did not
apply to you.
Hold on.
I’m here for you.
Stay.
You have commitments!
I said to you,
but it was too late by then.
I dreamt of you
for eleven thousand
seven hundred
and ten nights,
until I learnt that
you weren’t really there
at all.
poem- story girl April 14, 2014
The narration of your life
reads like a psychological thriller:
danger around every corner,
tension ramped to pain,
each character a potential villain
set to betray you,
and you’ve been betrayed, I know.
You’ve built your fortress
high and wide
and peek over cautiously
in your dark camouflage,
searching for the enemy
ready to defend
the small safety zone
you’ve carved for yourself.
You will survive,
because the protagonist
must overcome.
On the power of your words,
your resilience will rise
above the tormented tragedy
of your history
and you will embrace the destiny
that awaits your discovery.
I believe in your joyfully
mundane denouement.
poem-duck advice April 10, 2014
Duck:
observe the legato ease of
geese relaxing in their Vs,
or eagles, reaching out their sides
to slice the skies,
even the tiny wren flies
from tree to tree efficiently,
but you,
you flap
over-happily
like a rattlepated,
frenzied drunk,
Duck.
poem- Hello! April 7, 2014
Well, hello there deer!
What are you doing in the middle of my lane
on the TransCanada Highway?
Deer belong in forests.
Get off the asphalt
before you die.
.
.
A little surprise on my way to work this morning: a large mule deer (I think) right behind the school where I work. He headed into the trees of the river valley after I stopped for him to carry on. Such is life in Canada!
poem- march away! March 5, 2014
Winter
marching
heavily through spring.
Winter
march
away,
and take
all this falling snow
with you.
.
.
Heavy snow today, making the highway treacherous. Fun drive to work. We’re ready for less white and more warmth in the air!
poem-exploding you March 4, 2014
Oh, belligerent woman
at the gas station.
You know you are wrong.
You see the arrows.
Instead of backing up
You drive forward,
and make obnoxious remarks.
The other ten of us
can follow directions.
One of these things is not
like the others.
You’re embarrassed.
I get that.
So apologize, and back up.
Don’t yell at me.
I’m going the right way.
I am an author, though.
So while you rant,
I have the satisfaction
of seeing the bomb
the terrorists have set
that you accidentally trigger
by going the wrong way.
As your car explodes in a fiery
conflagration,
the ten cars that are secure
in our rule following
are protected by our bubble of sanctity.
We smile contentedly
knowing karma is at work,
as the litter of your dissatisfied life
rains from the sky,
bouncing off of us and
our aligned automobiles.
As you back out,
muttering a chastened,
“Sorry,”
I am glad that imagination
trumps aggravation
every time.
.
.
It’s a popular saying, “Don’t mess with authors. They will put you in their novels, and kill you.” Today, I discovered the poetic equivalent. 😉
poem-learning to listen February 25, 2014
A roomful
of opinions
opinions
opinions
everyone shouting
no one hears.
I think!
I believe!
I!
I!
I!
Wait!
Sit.
Listen.
Ask a question.
Listen to the answer.
Really listen.
Hear.
Think.
Learn.
Grow.
.
.
.
Another poem for the very inspiring Robin with whom I teach. So honoured to work in a school full of such amazing masters. So wonderful to watch kids learn how diverse our world is, how full of shades of grey, how their opinions aren’t the only ones in the world. 🙂
Shawn L. Bird 