Shawn L. Bird

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

poem-traditionalists December 18, 2020

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:19 pm
Tags: , , , , , ,

Someone has to care enough

to do the grunt work.

Haul up the tree

Heave. Grunt.

Whip up the shortbread.

Beat. Grunt.

Dig out the toboggans, drive to the hill.

Wheeee! Grunt.

Cook the turkey. Shop. Wrap the presents.

Grunt

Grunt

Grunt.

Some years the off-stage magicians are silent,

but this year you can hear us

grunt.

 

poem- gang aft a-gley December 17, 2020

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:18 am
Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

Those best laid plans

family coming from afar

creating traditions, warm hearts,

remembering those lost this year.

Everything is ready here, gifts piled up

waiting for wrapping.

Public health says stay home.

We must be lonely holiday islands.

There’s no time for parcels to arrive by the

assigned festive day

amid the mail delivery crisis.

No one to gather around our table.

So everything will be different.

We must make something new, a Zoom festivity?

Re-thinking that nativity when a stable had to do,

just like for the Holy Family, things don’t always go

according to

our best laid plans.

 

Poem- choking December 1, 2020

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 7:12 am
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

Tonight amid the Christmas decorations

grief is hanging on our tree;

loss pummels

hopefulness.

Sadness hollows out my chest,

crushes my shoulders,

lodges in my throat.

Longing overwhelms.

There is no comfort

here, only more memories

of what is gone

who is gone

when is gone

where is gone.

Tonight is too much to bear,

so I’ll climb into bed and

trust tomorrow brings

solace and that much lauded

peace of the season.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

 

poem- we turned on the Christmas lights November 22, 2020

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 6:19 pm
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

The dog stares mesmerized

past the old bulbs wrapped around the blue spruce, those steady, dependable glass bulbs that have illuminated twenty Christmases,

to the lilac bushes where the new micro-bulbs change from white to colour, fade, flash, flicker, urge us to celebrate with their “Party on!” dance,

but this year, putting them out

used all the energy we have,

and there’s no irony in the number of blue bulb strings wrapped and draped around the door.

 

poem-putting up the Christmas lights November 8, 2020

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:19 pm
Tags: , , , ,

We’re going to wrap the outside tree.

Just round and round

says he,

but these are different colours

we should go up and down to mix,

she suggests too tentatively.

So now the tree is half one

half the other.

Divided territories,

instead of blended harmony.

.

.

.

(Just a poem about what went on today as hubby and I put up the lights, and suddenly I’m reading it now and seeing it as a rather profound metaphor- also- where the heck did that rhyme come from? >shrug< Poetry, eh? It does its own thing!)

.

.

.

.

.

 

poem- baking tomorrow November 22, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:39 pm
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

She is gone

traditions will be different in her absence

I am a poor substitute.

May our Christmas cookies

and your memories

be sweet.

20191123_161525.jpg

 

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

 

poem-boxes January 9, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:20 pm
Tags: , , , , ,

Boxed up

memories, wrapped carefully

in torn tissue paper,

worn over years.

Boxed up

histories, revisited annually-

unwrapping melancholy,

tying it on a tree.

 

poem-gifts December 20, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:47 pm
Tags: , , , , ,

Downcast eyes,

a tentative

I made this for you.

Whatever it is

wrapped by hopeful hands,

holding you with a glistening gaze,

There is only one response:

It’s lovely!

Crumpled paper,

unfathomable art,

shapeless, tasteless garment,

Made it for you means

I love it.

I love it

means

I love you, too.

 

poem-Christmas Eve December 24, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:53 am
Tags: , ,

It’s Christmas Eve and you’re not here,

There’ll never be another year

when we will feel your warm embrace

and look upon your loving face.

It’s our first Christmas without you

No wonder I am feeling blue.

 

 

poem-burnt December 22, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:11 pm
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

She’s fuchsia

purple

royal blue.

She’s wine,

emerald,

turquoise.

Everyone knows it.

But you gift burnt orange

despite having heard years

of disgusted mutterings

about orange and yellow and olive

from childhood.

Burnt orange.

Burnt.

Orange.

She ponders

Surely there is a message here?

and wonders whether you would be offended

if she dyes your gift

more than she’s offended

by burnt orange.

 

 

 

 

 
<span>%d</span> bloggers like this: