Shawn L. Bird

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

poem-small June 14, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:36 pm
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Onyx eyes,  black beads,

glisten with wishes,

please take the gift,

toss gently, I’ll retrieve.

It’s only time between us;

you are almost all I’ve known of love,

though you may grieve

for what has been before;

I am now, and while I’m still small,

you’re all I want and need.

With time between us,

your love for me will grow.

 

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poem- new sage May 7, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 5:14 pm
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Life

floats nine months,

then makes its way

crushed for thirty long hours,

squeezed from under the heart of things

past the blood red fire, riding the drumbeat

of love into shining

light.

.

.

(For Saige, Martina, & Jared)

 

 

Poem- babies April 17, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:47 am
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Twenty-nine years ago today

I held a baby in my arms,

after 9 months of nurturing her

under my heart.  Reading everything on

growing the best baby, checking off the nutritional

requirements every day,

doing my best to be the best mom.

Dreaming about her future, who she might be.

Today, I hold a baby in my lap,

a black ball of fluff that wags its tail at me.

I studied its pedigree and now,

I watch training videos and imagine the fun we’ll have.

I might be a better puppy mommy?

We’ll see.

.

.

.

😉

 

poem- Jenny August 17, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:03 am
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For Jenny’s mom

.

Jenny,

You are compressed in tender warmth:

moist heat, red tinted scintillance, the beat-beat

beat-beat

beat-beat

of her throbbing love for you.

Silver knife, slice of light;

you are enveloped by gentle hands

that ease you into a gleaming land.

In the mirror your mother’s face beams at

the astonishment in your rounded lips and wide eyes,

as life brings you its first surprise.

Oh!

Jenny,

You are still rooted to

the mysteries of the universe,

branched from blood rich interior monologues,

God’s voice echoing truths,

but this world waits for you.

Your amazed expression reveals your first awestruck impression.

May each day be a glorious gift, for from your birth

your heart was kissed with wonder.

 

quote- babies: possibilities and reality March 16, 2014

Filed under: Quotations — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:15 pm
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My daughter was born on Good Friday, and Easter Sunday found me in the hospital chapel.  The pastor was speaking about change.  I sat in the back and bawled.  I didn’t know exactly why I was crying, but I was overwhelmed with post-partum hormones and the realization that my life would never be the same.  This conversation between characters Claire and Jenny reminded me of that time in my life.

“I’ve thought that perhaps that’s why women are so often sad, once the child’s born,” she said meditatively, as though thinking aloud.  “Ye think of them while ye talk and you have a knowledge of them as they are inside ye,  the way you think they are.  And then they’re born, and they’re different—not the way ye thought of them inside at all.  And ye love them, o’ course, and get to know them the way they are.. but still, there’s the thought of the child ye once talked to in your heart, and that child is gone.  So I think it’s the grievin’ for the child unborn that ye feel, even as ye hold the born one in your arms.”  She dipped her bead and kissed her daughter’s downy skull.

                “Yes,” I said.  “Before…it’s all possibility.  It might be a son, or a daughter.  A plain child, a bonny one.  And then it’s born, and all the things it might have been are gone, because now it is.”              

                …”And a daughter is born, and the son that she might have been is dead,” she said quietly.  “And the bonny lad at your breast has killed the wee lassie ye thought ye carried.  And ye weep for what you didn’t know, that’s gone for good, until you know the child you have, and then at last it’s as thought they could never have been other than they are , and ye feel naught but joy in them.  But ‘til then, ye weep easy.” 

(Diana Gabaldon in Dragonfly in Amber  p. 549)

 

poem-who knew? February 3, 2014

Who knew

when love first entangled

that rapture yields both

blessing and anguish?

Anticipated joy

dashed by disability,

disease, dread,

death.

Watching beloved baby

suffer

and the love that begat

all the suffering

lies so tangled

in anguish

that it’s difficult to

find it at all.

 

Baby boy June 14, 2013

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:17 pm
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Baby boy,

blue blanket tucked into your chin,

Thumb in in mouth, jaw moving tch-tch-tch-tch.

Perfect tiny face,

an animated melon

beneath the blanket,

immersed in the sweet scent of diaper powder.

I blink.

Baby boy,

Body stretched across the mattress,

Toes draped over the edge,

blankets splayed across your waist,

whiskers bristling your chin.

Mouth agape: GRZZZZ-GRRRRZ-GrrrrrrZ

in the pungent scent of sweat.

Baby boy.

.

.

.

(Even when they’re men, their mothers see the babies they once held in their arms.)

 

 
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