There is nothing more
he said.
This is the end.
While they watch the line
vanish into mist,
the curlicue twists
and something more
ensues.
Today’s napowrimo.net prompt is to write a palinode: a reversal of opinion, essentially.
poem-doing March 11, 2015
You are amazing.
You are worthy of love.
You are valuable.
You have something to offer.
What are you doing?
poem- really? March 9, 2015
I thought I knew
what was coming next,
but all I know
is nothing is what I expect.
.
.
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www.shawnbird.com/poetic-diversity-project
Please consider sharing a poem or a link on the theme of SHARING SPACE and helping me with my grad school course!
poem- limping March 5, 2015
The physiotherapist
rolls, stretches, and manipulates
my ankle joint.
Push here.
Pull there.
Between parallel bars
re-learn to walk:
roll from the heel,
flex that joint.
Let go.
If you rely on the supports
and are too tender with the joint
you’ll continue to limp.
Your body will think it must,
even when the joint is healed.
How many other ways
am I limping in my life?
How many other ways
should I re-learn to walk?
.
For Jody and Anita
poem-proximity February 23, 2015
Once,
next to my hair salon of choice,
there was an amazing jewelry store.
Before an appointment,
I’d peruse the sparkling wares,
and occasionally I’d be captivated,
to leave a great percentage
of my pay cheque there,
in exchange for lasting, glistening baubles.
Now,
next to my hair salon of choice,
these is an amazing chocolate store.
Before an appointment,
I peruse the creamy, sweet wares,
and always I am captivated,
to leave a small percentage
of my pay cheque there,
in exchange for momentary ecstasy on my tongue.
poem-step February 22, 2015
She moves one
tiny foot in front of the other,
embracing her future,
present and past.
poem-stretch February 18, 2015
This joint needs stretching.
Lean into the pain,
just a little push.
Hold there,
on the edge of the agony.
Relax back.
Lean again; push
just
a little
further.
Stretch the joint;
flexibility is necessary,
when you may need to run,
eventually.
Poem- Once January 14, 2015
Once upon a time
when someone was laid up
visitors would send cards
friends would deliver flowers
your buddies brought balloons
until the sick room was transformed
into a jolly place, papered in good wishes.
Now,
the wishes are all virtual
and the distraction is digital.
If only the pain was, too.
poem- dishes December 15, 2014
She’s
dishing out the gossip,
spreading the news,
telling tales
He’s
wagging tails,
reading the clues
washing dishes, cutting his losses
poem-dust December 10, 2014
Yesterday
this was everything.
Novelty exploded
and now we’re only
dust.
.
.
.
(Oh, those poor children. When you’re 14, everything is hyperbolic)
Shawn L. Bird 