The hearty souls maintain
their exercise programs
as the temperatures plummet.
–no bad weather
. only bad clothes!
They’ll walk with spike studded boots
. or snowshoes
They slide along on skis
minus five
minus ten
minus fifteen
minus twenty
minus twenty-five
minus thirty
Such dedicated athletes!
I am not so dedicated to fresh air.
I’m dancing in the living room
waving my arms around
sweatin’ to the oldies
getting in my daily steps
while watching warmly from my window
at those hearty cold souls.
poem-winter steps January 14, 2024
poem- summer spectre November 15, 2022
The mountains are a
ghostly presence,
faint phantoms
looming above the lake,
wisps over white paint palette
there
not there
Winter hovers
over misty memories
of summer storms.
poem- When I met his eyes November 4, 2022
(Sometimes the breakdown of a relationship is not a surprise to folks watching from the outside).
.
When I met his eyes
.
I saw into the depths
saw his emptiness
unfaithfulness.
He knew I knew
His fake jokes couldn’t mask
the pain he’d cause.
He looked away,
alarms his charms didn’t sway me.
I could see.
They believed
his false smile
piled on adoration
while he crafted
mutual ruination.
She
has strength beyond
will rebuild,
move along.
poem-seasonal shift October 2, 2022
Yesterday
Leaping into leaves.
Today: snow
.
.
This is a Kelly lune, a triplet poem with syllable count 3,5,3.
poem-less anxious September 16, 2022
Dark dusky sky
Gulls cry
Gliding by, wings wiping at air
Diving down to thieve
Thoughts of tomorrow
Wasting no worries
On what might not be.
poem-peaceful August 31, 2022
Curled up comma, figure in curly fur,
beside me, softly snoring,
my happy puppy dreams.
This is a KIMO poem. The kimo has a single image, no rhyme, 3 lines, with 10-7-6 syllable count.
poem- I saw a shooting star August 29, 2022
I saw a shooting star
.
Last night
while letting out the dog:
a streak across the sky.
The dog squatted in the grass while
A weary traveler burned through our
atmosphere.
My upward glance made me a witness
and I must say, that meteor’s end
made midnight
magic.
poem-heavy December 4, 2020
What is this woodblock in my chest
beyond kilos and pounds to tons (or tonnes)?
Quivering, it vibrates my spine,
my foggy head,
all’s aching weight,
anguish and dread.
poem- pandemic life December 2, 2020
It is a wearisome year
Each new day weighs heavier
than yesterday.
poem- feeling beachy November 18, 2020
Crashing waves
Splashing children
Deep thinking trickles like sand
I’m seeking peace:
waves wash over me.
.
.
.
.
Demo cinquain poem for class today. Kids chose theme of beach, and I wrote a line with a different poetic device in each: alliteration, assonance, consonance, onomatopoeia, internal rhyme. Turns out, it sounds better in reverse, so that’s the version you see here.
.
.
.
.
Shawn L. Bird 