Shawn L. Bird

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

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.

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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,

and it’s overflowing,

and dripping on her floor.

 

Poem-Plumbing Depths June 14, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:24 pm
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This well is dank and dark,

Though they have promised from the depths

She will see stars,

so far, it’s darkness all around.

She only feels

a giant on her chest squeezing

joy, until tears squish dripping out.

She’ll fill this well with grief;

the only escape may be

floating on surface sorrow

until it floods over the wall

with all the sadness she can carry.

 

poem- Worshipping anger April 15, 2019

Your pain bursts out the barrel of a gun

punches holes through community

explodes small town security.

Neutrality’s a liar.

And in world news:

Notre-Dame Cathedral is on fire.

.

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My own photo, detail around the main entrance of Notre-Dame. Paris, 2011.

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My own photo. Notre-Dame tower details. Paris. 2010

 

A poem should stand on its own merits, but I feel like a bit of clarification this time.  There was a shooting in my small, Canadian town yesterday.  Two people were shot in their church; one died. Our community has been reeling from this shock, and now another tragedy.  The loss of life. The loss of a building.  Can you compare the two?

 

poem- tossing April 4, 2019

Filed under: Poetry,poodles — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:24 am
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I toss.

You race.

You leap.

You flip.

You pant.

You return

on a joy-fueled frenzy

for the fun of the chase.

To vicariously share your bliss,

I toss.

.

.

(Just in from a supremely athletic game of fetch- with a Chuckit Flying Squirrel. Now a happily exhausted poodle is at my feet.  I once saw a Ziggy cartoon that said he just wanted to go to dog heaven and toss balls for eternity. I sometimes feel like that is already my prime raison d’etre according to Kiltti!  How about you? Do you play a lot of fetch?).  

 

 

poem- him December 14, 2018

Yes, there is laughter;

I see it sparkling in those eyes,

twinkling in the crevices of his face.

I see it dancing,

in those jaunty steps,

off-kilter, long-legged ramblings.

I see it in the shaking shoulders,

heaving joy, hard embraces.

There is laughter through that body,

whether we hear it

or not.

 

 

poem- drifting December 10, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:09 am
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Snow flakes drift by,

washing the world white.

Cold drips down my neck,

scarf scratching,

steps slipping,

breath billows in small clouds,

miniature factories.

Trudge through the flakes

filling the sky,

painting a picture of

a world wiped clean.

 

 

 

 
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