Shawn L. Bird

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

poem- Minus 26 degrees January 13, 2020

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:18 am
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The moon lingers in blue sky,

listening to Styrofoam™ squeaking boots

on crispy, cold snow.

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Poem- Buried January 10, 2020

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:22 pm
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You are small

boisterous

black

bouncing

excitement,

eager for the ball,

but

the snow is deep

and when you chase

you

disappear

into a crystalline abyss.

Such gleeful eyes

burst from the bank

and shake off

that which buried you.

 

poem-slice December 4, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:55 am
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What invisible edge

slit skin on finger tip,

inserted pain into this day?

Blood dripped.

Every typed word

reminds me

danger lurks everywhere.

I face the consequences

alone.

 

 

poem-time traveler November 1, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:10 am
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Boom box boy

bouncing to the smoke pit

announcing your existence-

loudly.

Stride on

Caught in a lost decade

I’m grateful as that music fades.

 

 

Poem- creativity September 25, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:27 am
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The burn is sizzling

Smoke from nostrils, ears.

Instead, I’m here;

I need to fuel flames,

Tend an inferno.

Blaze brilliantly,

But now I must douse

The burn in reality.

 

poem- shouting trauma September 13, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:00 pm
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Teresa hated her hair-cut

Wore her hat in class.

Held it tightly when the boys wanted to see

What could possibly be so bad.

Ran home in tears.

The next day,

the hat was off, and no one could figure out

what had bothered her so much.

Her hair looked fine.

She just had to get used to the idea of change.

How often are we afraid of something new,

even when it’s innocuous or perhaps

even better than what was?

Half a century I’ve pondered Teresa’s hair.

I still don’t understand,

what she didn’t like.

 

poem- picking light August 30, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:10 pm
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For Jordie

 

She sees it on the floor

reaches for the white spot:

light.

Three times the lights calls her.

Three times she reaches.

Three times she rolls her eyes.

She doesn’t need to pick up light,

it already glows within her,

touches everyone she knows.

Her light is kindness;

it’s overflowing,

and dripping on her floor.

 

 
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