Shawn L. Bird

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

poem- profile then & now January 12, 2019

Filed under: Friendship,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:12 pm
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(for Nikki)

.

I see joy.

See how you have expanded

until you’re exploding with all

that you’d held tightly

contained, buttoned up?

I see confidence.

See how what was timid

and tentative

now twinkles with the knowing

that you are amazing?

I am so proud

of who you’ve made,

you.

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poem-then November 20, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:25 am
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When was the moment

that ‘we’ broke apart?

Or did it just wear away?

All those things in common,

yet nothing holds together.

I rocked you in my arms

dreamed of all you’d be.

Never did I imagine you’d be

without me.

Why did you turn away?

We gave you space to grow

and now we don’t know

if loneliness is the price we pay,

when children make their way,

break their way,

wear away.

 

 

poem- vaguely November 15, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:50 pm
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It couldn’t quite be

as obvious as that?

Roped mysteries

hauled to lucidity,

tugged into reality.

Something is vaguely changed.

Weary watching,

sidelong looks,

what happens next?

 

poem-nefarious November 13, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 7:54 pm
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For eighteen years,

each evening when I glance out my kitchen window,

I see my elderly neighbour

at work through his window.

Suddenly, this week,

his drapes are drawn.

What nefariousness is this?

What hidden adventures is this World War 2 spy

up to now, that require such secrecy?

The neighbourhood has become far

more interesting with this mystery.

 

poem-aftermath November 12, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:48 pm
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The day after

the wishes flow,

the possibilities drain away.

Futility crushes the mutibility of dreams,

but tomorrow is another day.

 

 

poem-thou dost protest too much November 1, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:13 pm
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Each act ahead comes

from what’s behind.

We are all walking wounded

trailing bandages

that tangle us,

tie us,

trip us

into our future.

Wear a blind fold:

we cannot look into a mirror to see the pain

etched across our faces.

See the bandages?

Trip over them

leaving the bar.

Scream yourself hoarse,

stamp your feet.

Shout “I’m fine, fine, FINE!” *

Ah. Methinks,

The lady doth protest too much.*

.

.

(*Allusions: In Louise Penny’s wonderful Inspector Gamache books, Ruth Zardo has written a book of poetry where FINE is an acroynym for F*cked up, Insecure, Neurotic, Egotistical. I’d say that applies here, too. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much” is from the play within a play in Shakespeare’s Hamlet).

 

poem-wandering August 7, 2018

It is

It isn’t

Round and round

I can!

I can’t!

You do

You don’t

and trying

trying

trying

doesn’t make it easier

to pull your broken brain away

from turbulance

I don’t know you anymore

I don’t like you anymore

Loyalty keeps me doing

because I promised him

and you can’t help being broken

I know.

It is

It isn’t

Time ticks by

I try

I try

I try.

 

 
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