It’s a mercy, they say
nodding sagely.
Mercy it may be,
but I’m seeking grace,
for mercy does not
alleviate grief.
poem-next April 8, 2018
This moonlit night,
snow glowing with
luminescent memories,
I stroll along the old paths
thinking of the mystery you
made of me.
Identity molded like play dough
childhood laughter
leaching from the cracks of yesterday.
I can’t say anymore
who I am.
.
(another character perspective poem about Lydia & Dustin)
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
haiku-still March 12, 2018
Diva Winter grips
her sequined white cloak. Clinging,
while we wish for Spring.
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-choices February 10, 2018
You’re right,
of course.
The girl’s got skills.
She works a room with flare,
engages crowds confidently.
You want her in your corner,
unless of course,
she reveals your inadequacies,
tramples your manly ideas,
and overwhelms.
The public thinks she’s wonderful.
The contrast between you
crackles. Can you let her go?
Or should you hold her close?
.
.
A poem for a character, as I’m working on Lydian Mode today. Lydia the artist is too capable by half. Poor Dustin. She is not making his world easy.
poem-flying February 8, 2018
Fleance dreams of flight,
soaring on outstretching wings
into a moonlit night,
No day trips for him, he’s heard things
about flying too near the sun.
Day is for escape, for climbing,
Peaks ascending, journeys begun,
At sunset (it’s all about the timing)
he leaps into red glowing,
falls on moon rise
spreads his wings, catches winds flowing
embraces skies,
Wonders at all he does espy
and murmurs “Fly, Good Fleance! Fly!”
poem-wishful February 7, 2018
Wistful
Wishful
A tank of fish full:
silver darting
Red Sea parting.
Make a way;
say your say.
Wistful
wish.
Full.
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).
poem-touch January 21, 2018
This gripping agony
squeezes me thoroughly.
All that exists are those few
square inches,
shrieking at me.
I see the ripples of this pain
on my brows, crossing vision.
The world has shrunk into a tiny piece
of me.
Shawn L. Bird 