Periwinkle sky
In the eaves trough tinkle the trickles
of melting snow.
Hope for spring
burst by tomorrow’s
forecast.
poem- lost February 18, 2020
The tireless effort
wire wrapped embraces
stone heart.
She longs for something
someone who will repay
the tireless effort,
Some soul
to respond to her
wire wrapped embraces,
Anything to touch her,
to re-awaken her long
stone heart.
(another Cascade poem)
poem-disembodied February 12, 2020
Trees are ghost outlines,
frost coated.
Far off, along the lake, the train
hoots a melancholy call.
My feet crunch on a path
that was soft yesterday.
I cannot see the sun,
but it is there.
Perhaps things will be brighter
tomorrow?
poem-change in the wind February 10, 2020
Each day I arrive here
Look around
and notice it feels less like home.
Remember laughter,
feel their dreaming,
it’s all still here,
but where are my desires leading?
Could this all be coming to a close?
Are talent, skills, and luck
coalescing into
something new?
poem-white February 5, 2020
The lake is gone
The sky is gone
The ground is gone
The world has faded into monochrome
I weary of winter.
poem-the old fridge died February 4, 2020
You,
the mechanical miracle worker,
refuse to accept extermination.
Armed with Youtube videos
and an amp metre
you search for solutions,
find the secret place
frozen peas hide,
discover three decades of debris.
Determination pays:
You sit back, satisfied,
when hum and chilled air,
declare life.
Death defeated.
Obliteration blocked.
Cold box immaculate in revived vitality.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
(ignore any ads placed here by WordPress. I do not endorse them).
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
poem-so like us January 31, 2020
Remember
the necklace you gave me.
Four golden strands I wanted to love
for your sake.
Every time I wore it,
it turned into a tangled disaster,
wrapped up in itself.
So like us.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
(please ignore any ads placed by WordPress. They are not authorized by me)
.
.
.
.
.
..
Poem-spies January 30, 2020
A Facebook found poem, with thanks to Liz.
.
Seven magpies
lined up on the roof
across from my office,
watching me.
Creepy.
They are not a poem.
This is not a poem.
Not at all.
Creepy magpie
spy
poem.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
(ignore any ads placed by WordPress. They are not endorsed by me)
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
poem- Minus 26 degrees January 13, 2020
The moon lingers in blue sky,
listening to Styrofoam™ squeaking boots
on crispy, cold snow.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
(ignore ads added by WordPress)
.
Poem- Buried January 10, 2020
You are small
boisterous
black
bouncing
excitement,
eager for the ball,
but
the snow is deep
and when you chase
you
disappear
into a crystalline abyss.
Such gleeful eyes
burst from the bank
and shake off
that which buried you.
Shawn L. Bird 