Shawn L. Bird

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

Poem- Stinky socks cinquains October 2, 2020

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:55 pm
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(These were fun demos written with my students as we worked through some poetry devices on “Poetry Friday-the Wednesday edition”)

Super stinky socks

So easily knee socks crease

Stinky socks stick to my shoes

They slurp when I pull them out.

But say! My socks still rock!

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Socks are mittens for feet

Comfort like a warm fire in winter.

My wooly socks hug my feet

My silent shout of happiness

declares my stinky socks the finest perfume in the world.

I like my socks.


(Can you find assonance, alliteration, consonance, hyperbole internal rhyme, metaphor, onomatopoeia, oxymoron, personification, simile, and understatement?)

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poem- walk on a foggy day September 30, 2020

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:28 am
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The clouds have come to Earth,

obscuring our panorama

narrowing the perspective

until the view is simply you and me:

this nebulous emergence,

hope and mystery.

 

poem- hollow September 21, 2020

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:24 pm
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I can hoo-hoot in the empty rooms

a lost owl listening to an echo

where there used to be you.

 

poem-special delivery August 31, 2020

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:14 pm
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Two raw hazelnuts on the back deck.
Delivery from a rat? a squirrel? a passing crow?
I guess that’s something we’ll never know.

 

poem- seeing May 31, 2020

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:22 pm
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I see a new person now.

The years’ baggage-

so much bitterness and resentment-

has disappeared like lost luggage.

She stands at the Baggage Claim,

befuddled

then teeters down the hall,

oblivious to its loss.

This peaceful creature

is new.

There is no room to hold the past

against her.

 

poem-flick May 28, 2020

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:51 pm
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Strike the match;

light that candle;

defeat the dark.

Spark.
Sputter.

That tiny wick

won’t brighten

anyone’s despair.

Spark.
Sputter.

Little wicks are a waste of wax.

Candle melt-down.

Find a wick you can trim

For light that won’t dim.

 

 

poem- homunculi May 27, 2020

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 5:52 pm
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Oh, those little men,

stomping about.

Ranting!  Raving!

Poor persecuted poppets

lacking conscience and self-control.

“No! No! No!”

“Mine! Mine! Mine!”

Mothers roll their eyes,

send intractable toddlers

back to bed.

 

poem- it’s raining May 6, 2020

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:25 pm
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I’m chilled to the bone.

I wish for a wood stove:

that crackle and flash,

heat that sinks in deep,

defines cozy comfort,

makes me want to sleep.

I can hear my mother,

If you’re cold, put on a sweater!

I want a wood stove:

the summer scent on  logs,

I want

warm feet on a hassock,

hot cup of tea,

well-written mystery.

Fine, Mother.

I’ll get a sweater, too.

 

 

poem-falsifying March 10, 2020

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:51 am
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Oh false friend!

Yesterday, blue skies smiling sweetly,

warm sun embraces,

led to

short sleeves and picnic tables.

Today, an inch of new snow tops the table

and sky is full of malice,

tiny shards of ice,

stabbing the heart of spring.

Winter wins another round.

 

poem- impatiently February 28, 2020

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:49 am
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If I refuse to wear my boots,

choose a light jacket instead of that coat,

keep my feet on gravel, ignore snow piles,

can I force winter to go?

Beguile spring with my wiles?