Shawn L. Bird

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

poem- not conservative, just not living August 29, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:19 pm
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Outside the change room,

she looked into the mirror.

Lovely,

polished,

dynamic,

and classy

in the pale blue duster jacket.

Perfectly suited her colouring.

Stunning.

“I love this,” she sighs.

“I love these on other people.  I just know that I would never wear it.”

I am aghast. “You could wear it to the grocery store!”  She could wear it anywhere.

But no.  She left in an orange dress,  that made her complexion blotchy.

I have no business being sad, that she put away a pale, blue jacket, that suited her,

because of fears I’m imagining for her.

“Do you imagine I’m conservative?” she asks.

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” I shrug.

But she looked damn fantastic in that blue duster jacket.

 

poem-road June 23, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:18 am
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Win win you think

and she knows your thoughts,

that you don’t imagine

hers differ.

They do.

She wants you, coming and going.

Sit beside for both parts of the journey,

find moments of connection

have those conversations

that are skipped in the day to day.

Those too rare times when you’re together

with nothing to do but hear each other.

She wants words and laughter and plans.

You leave early.  A note on the counter:

meet you there.

She puts her foot on the gas pedal

and travels lonely,

as usual.

Win?

or lose?

 

 

quote- Desmond Tutu on writing May 23, 2017

Filed under: Quotations,Writing — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:35 am
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If you want to be a good writer, you are not going to become one by always  going to the movies and eating bonbons.  You have to sit down and write. Which can be very frustrating, and yet, without that, you would not get that good result.

-Archbishop Desmond Tutu in The Book of Joy.

 

poem- obliviously December 14, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:38 am
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Max and Jenn were in our grade eight classes

and our grade nine classes,

but then, they were not.

Where are they? asked the teachers.

Whispers replied to one another in the back rows,

I saw them outside The Royal Anne.

They’re turning tricks.  Doing drugs.

We blinked at one another that our peers

would make such choices,

muttered, How terrible.

We slowed down our lives to peer into the

accident scene of their lives

from a safe distance,

but did any of us go downtown,

and offer them a different option?

.

.

.

This is a forty-year old memory.  Where are they now, I wonder?

 

poem-Elizabeth October 31, 2014

Filed under: Poetry,Writing — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:14 am
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Today

Your Snow White beauty

Is cut with a sharp edge of

Street smarts.

You’ve seen

Too much.

Tomorrow

Will the visions

Scar your face with darkness,

Cigarette creases

And add black anger to your eyes,

Aging you with

Exponential bitterness?

Or will your words

Poured out upon a page

Erase the stresses

And sculpt your beauty

Into timelessness?

 

anecdote-overheard in the classroom October 15, 2014

Filed under: anecdotes,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:05 am
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“I know this guy

who chopped off all his fingers in a blender.”

What?  Was he intoxicated? drunk? high?

“Nope.”

You’re kidding.  Why would he do that?

“Well, you know, he wanted to prove he could touch

the middle of the chopping part without getting hurt.”

But he couldn’t, apparently.

Shrug.  “I guess not.”

Huh.

“Yeah. People from Calgary are stupid.”

.

.

.

Sometimes, I am very afraid for the youth of today.

 

 

poem- wishes July 6, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 7:08 pm
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She likes a bad boy.

She likes the attitude,

the tats,

the danger,

the rebellion,

the dissatisfaction.

She likes that he’ll cheat

on his wife with her,

plan their future,

dream with her.

That woman doesn’t

deserve him, she says,

while she wishes.

That woman doesn’t

understand him, she says,

while she wishes.

He embraces her,

briefly.

When he leaves her

pregnant,

crushed,

jaded,

she’s surprised,

by all he’d revealed

to her before,

and she thinks it’s

his fault,

she’d wished.

.

.

.

.

Another sad example of, “If you keep doing what you’ve always done, you’ll keep getting what you’ve always got.”

 

 
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