My gaze settles
on a dimpled grin
eyes laughing
amid the crowded din
Your eyes find mine
grow hooded,
and your smile
stretches languidly.
The din disappears
as we spin a web
between us.
Who is spider?
Who is fly?
poem-echo September 6, 2014
These words
are echoes of all
the words you’ve said before
and they still
hurt my ears.
poem-here September 5, 2014
Here
every time I pass this place
I smile, remembering you
right here
with me.
.
.
(WordPress says this is my 1600th post on this blog)
poem-pudding on the premier September 4, 2014
“Who stole the bowl of pudding
I made for dessert?”
“He did!” said the chocolate coated child, pointing at
her baby brother, quietly kicking his feet in the jolly jumper.
“.
“Who is stalling contract
negotiations?”
“They are!” said the chocolate coated premier, pointing
at the teachers quietly carrying their pickets.
.
Some lies
are easier to spot
than others.
.
(Seriously Premier, why would anyone forfeit thousands of dollars of salary unless it was for something of tremendous value- like defending The Charter of Rights and Freedoms? We’re not going to give up our rights under the law! We won twice at the Supreme Court! We won’t sign a clause that says if you lose again, you won’t have to follow the justice’s decision!
poem-stone September 2, 2014
I lean against stone
eyes closed
longing for what was
or what will be,
what was lost without
reason or rhyme.
I lean against stone
and in dreams,
see time.
.
.
.
An Outlander themed poem
poem-smoke September 1, 2014
You are smoke
You wind your lies
Through the crowds
Til they are choking and gasping
Then you fade away and
blame the sick
that they are ill.
.
.
.
Just in case you’re tired of my Teachers’ Strike posts, here’s one that, while I know is about the strike and the misrepresentations of government spin doctors, at least it seems as if it could be about a variety of situations. 🙂
poem-closer August 25, 2014
Some days
I can’t get close enough
to you.
I want to wrap
your skin around me
and hear our hearts
beat, blood bound,
against each other.
poem- night music
I was the lone
talentless one
in a room of musicians.
As each took his place,
at his instrument
I turned on the cassette
recorder, determined
to capture the moment.
I collapsed onto
the couch, in
blurry eyed reverie
as the music tangled
in my brain, filled the
basement, bounced
off the ceiling tiles.
The pianist glanced
into my starry eyes
and grinned.
The others teased
between their strings,
but words fell away
in the fog of my euphoria.
His lips curled upwards
on one side
as his eyes twinkled at mine.
When he packed to go
I rewound the tape.
I heard the
mangled mess of a
damaged tape.
Devastated, I
blinked through
tearful eyes.
Everyone laughed,
but he draped an
arm around my shoulders
and guided me up the stairs.
As his ride arrived
he whispered,
“Don’t worry.
I’ll make you
more music.”
And
he
did.
.
.
.
(Is it any wonder I wrote a book about this? lol Tonight, I had a flashback. Thought I’d share.)
poem-shapely August 22, 2014
I was a line
a squiggly line
a wiggly line
that grew
and grew
into a sphere:
a bubble floating
a tire rolling
I bent elliptically
under pressure,
curves contained
in shapely strain.
Shawn L. Bird 