Arms are
the consolation
the comfort
the consideration
arranged around artifice.
Arcing constancy.
poem- for Brian #Outlander April 27, 2015
Brian Dubh
They miss you.
Shredded hearts pile blame
Lash out from pain
They’ve lain you in your grave,
Brian Dubh,
but while they grieve
still you live
in them.
.
.
A little Outlander poem today, in honour of ep 112 Lallybroch. Dubh is pronounced “Doo”. It means ‘black’. Jamie Fraser’s father was known as “Black Brian” for his colouring. If you’re only meeting these character through the TV series, you may not know this.
poem- perhaps April 26, 2015
Perhaps when
. you are dead
I will find a cache
. of hidden love letters,
. diaries,
. poetry
all proclaiming your passionate
. yearnings,
your adoration recorded
. day after day.
Moments captured on paper
. trapped filaments of bliss
. flashes of us through your eyes.
Perhaps
I will find a cache.
Perhaps
. not.
poem- NaPoWriMo- Rush & Hurry April 18, 2015
Today’s NaPoWriMo.net prompt in honour of the Midnight Ride of Paul Revere is a poem on a theme of rush and hurry.
(and today I was delighted to discover I am the Day 18 featured poet for yesterday’s social media poem. How lovely!)
.
.
When it’s true
there’s all the time in the world.
Slow down.
.
They say
“Marry in haste, repent in leisure.”
.
I remember seven months
when time stood still
and you were the air I breathed.
.
In haste, married,
then filled a house with babies.
Now they’re gone, but you’re still here
Our leisurely repentance
is luxurious reward for our haste.
.
.
Happy 30th engagement anniversary to my love. (4 months after meeting and 3 months to the wedding!)
poem- riddle me this April 13, 2015
I am a question in disguise.
A taunting phrase
turned red herring, am I.
You’ll groan at me
while you roll your eyes.
So, I query you, dear: what am I?
.
Today’s prompt from http://www.napowrimo.net is to write a riddle, in keeping with the mystery of 13. Not suffering from triskaidekaphobia, I offer this, with my tongue FIRMLY in cheek. 😉
.
poem- palms March 29, 2015
A moment of celebration
raise your hands, wave the palms
Palms together, clap your hands,
No palmistry to understand
when they raise you up
they’ll drop you down.
Get ready to sup and pray some.
Silver’s exchanged for a soul
just thirty little pieces.
The whole world pivots around
this moment of celebration,
before the coming devastation.
But after grief,
Relief. and
Peace.
.
.
A little Palm Sunday poem for you.
poem-dance
The music echoes through her bones
throbbing heart beat,
quivering quavers,
filling feet with rhythm.
Eyes scanning for possibilities,
Whose arms will encircle her?
Will he be the one to enfold her,
entwine their bodies,
make her sway
under his percussion?
She watches and wonders,
Shall she dance?
.
.
.
(Inspired by Richard Gere and Jennifer Lopez tonight)
poem- betrayal March 26, 2015
Do not leave him unsupervised,
For those flames in his eyes
are burning for the stranger
he’s been dreaming of.
Leave him unsupervised
to throw away your history.
If his eyes burn for her,
he doesn’t deserve your
unswerving devotion.
Reading Jodi Picoult’s novel Mercy. Feel like screaming, so I wrote a poem.
poem- burning March 23, 2015
The label on the bra
reads “Keep away from fire.”
Is this a warning against
flames of excessive passion,
self-immolation, or
metaphorical representations
of feminist independence?
.
poem- raining March 22, 2015
We’re home, and it’s raining.
Vacation sun hidden
Blue skies masked by grey
I didn’t ask you to say
anything. I waited.
Too late.
We’re home, and it’s raining.
Shawn L. Bird 