Shawn L. Bird

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

poem- looking April 3, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:19 pm
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Year after year

smiling faces under glass.

So many smiles only a whisper of memory:

oh yes. I remember that one

and that one

and that.

But so many others

slipped out of mind,

phantoms who haunted our rooms.

Are they still hovering ghosts

watching life happening around them

or are they finally

corporeal?

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poem-decisions November 10, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:59 pm
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Silent chatter

clattering through her mind,

shouting thoughts,

whispered shrieks,

speaking do

don’t

do

don’t.

Can it be?

Will it be?

Should it be?

Yes.

No.

Make it so.

Stuttering possibility

silently.

 

poem-this moment November 6, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:27 pm
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This is not a test.

One chance.

One.

It all counts.

This is it.

Go.

 

poem-listen to your voice April 2, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 6:24 pm
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I wrap my arms around this dream and squeeze.

I unfold expectations, unwrapping a gift of discovery

What am I?

He wraps his arms around her dream and squeezes.

She unfolds expectations, unwraps discovery

What is she with him?

What is he with her?

What are they in their dreams?

You wrap your arms around your dream and squeeze

Unfold your expectations, unwrap your gift.

What are you?

You are

the gift.

 

NaPoWriMo #2 playing with voice

 

 

 

poem- December 24, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:20 am
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Some of us

have more to contain

to be little rays of sunshine,

day to day,

but that doesn’t mean

it doesn’t do us more good

to be sunshine

than for us to complain

about our rain.

 

poem- poem vs ink December 8, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:50 am
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A poem, found in the comments of NUDGE. By Shawn and Chris

.

Your mind, has to be much better.

You ‘re not getting shock treatment too?

Are you?

Not electro-shock, at least

They’re trying to make me look crazy.

Every time i go to the hospital

Strapped to a bed…

You may be fine, but

perhaps the drugs are crazy?

Drugs are how i am…

Where does one end and the other begin?

Is a place ahead

separate from that identity?

desired?

willed?

(Is this a poem?)

No,

drugs are part of the poem

Life is the poem;

drugs are just your ink.

 

poem-shed February 21, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:48 pm
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The plan

erodes

corrodes

implodes

as you stare at the wreck

you must live in.

But maybe

all is not as it seems,

maybe this is only the wood shed

and there’s a mansion

waiting for you

around the corner.

 

 
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