She fills the sky
with a rainfall of words,
a hurricane of syllables,
a thundering of sentences.
She brews a storm,
but he stands impermeable
in silent eloquence
amid her eye.
poem-glad July 7, 2014
She searches
for
words,
music,
assurances.
His tongue
writes
her poetry
and she sighs
on the harmony
of their song.
poem- there July 4, 2014
Who you were there
eyes lit
smile glistening
passion sparkling
walking hand in hand
through the summer rain
fueled poetry
and wishful thinking.
Who you were there,
who I was then,
both left behind.
poem- grandma June 28, 2014
I have lost her words
The narrative spun away
across the void of time.
I no longer hear her voice
echoing through my mind.
But here
a grocery list
a flash of history
Though mostly she is lost
to time and left
a mystery.
poem- greedy June 24, 2014
I want
sun on your shoulders
breeze in your hair
speed in your feet
you with
me.
poem- demon hunting June 21, 2014
You don’t believe in God
but you know demons,
up close and personally.
The ever present haunting,
sometimes out of sight
but never far,
is a billowing storm cloud,
black and ominous,
waiting to pour down upon you
waiting to wash out your roads
waiting to carry you away
too rife with hopelessness
to thrash against it.
A demon rides your shoulder,
its claws clinging to your skin,
its fury held at bay by
an umbrella of medicaments,
a pharmaceutical shelter
from the storm,
inadequate against a
demon’s tempest.
poem-laughter
You toddle over,
your two tooth grin wide.
When tapped
upon your button nose
you burst with
belly laughs.
.
.
I met Iona today. Iona is little, and doesn’t speak yet, but she oozes personality!
poem-sun June 20, 2014
The mahogany marbling
of my arms betrays
my desire to remain indoors,
out of the burning glare.
Strange times, when
we are forced under sun.
Instead supervising exams
we direct lost tourists
to the Info Centre
(Google, your map is wrong,
like this government).
So many metaphors
and all day in the sun
to appreciate them.
.
poem- love sick June 16, 2014
The dog has been slurping in the toilet
He saunters down the hall,
water dripping from his muzzle,
stops beside me, gazing adoringly,
and kisses my arm with long wet strokes.
As he flops to clean his privates,
I go off in search of soap.
poem- nestled June 15, 2014
I crawl between clean sheets,
inhaling crisp scent.
You snore softly on your side,
then reach out and pull me
against you, our ankles entangling,
fingers weaving together
your snores still filling the
dark, dancing with me
in your dreams.
Shawn L. Bird 