Two identical
blazing logs
are ramming together
shooting sparks
with every shot,
neither aware
that they will set the
whole forest on fire
if they do not
stop ramming
and begin rolling
toward the cool waters
of understanding.
poem- together November 2, 2014
His scowl bounces off the walls
and she knows what kind of bounce he needs
but their inconvenient visitor
incites invible depression
so there is no undressing
for decompressing
As Ben Franklin would say,
“Fish and visitors stink
after three days.”
poem-either way October 29, 2014
Your gift
My heart
Your time
My money
Your devotion
My desire
Either way
Us.
poem- Sunday October 26, 2014
Dirty clothes piled in the bath room,
Plates and projects in the living room
Books piled in the dining room
Clean laundry 4 feet high in the dressing room.
Everywhere there’s work to do
and I just want to cuddle you.
poem-destiny October 13, 2014
It weaves around the sky
like jet streams tying ribbons
of air,
entangled trust
entwining wishes,
entrusting time
twisting you and me
into a braid
of mist.
poem- rumbling October 7, 2014
She arrives home exhausted.
“Ooh,” he says, nose curled.
“Those pants are terrible.”
She stares at him, deposits groceries on the counter,
heads down the hall,
and collapses into bed, too tired
to discuss appropriate comments,
respect, and positive encouragement.
She sleeps.
Hours later, she awakens, hungry,
makes some toast.
He comes upstairs. “The kid is out,” he says,
heading to the bedroom.
Ah, she thinks. That’s code for ‘Apology sex.’
Wise of him.
She bathes, listening to him preparing
in the other bathroom.
She climbs into bed,
to find him snoring.
She wishes she had eaten beans,
cauliflower
and cabbage for dinner.
She ponders delivering a two footed
kick to his backside, propelling him out of bed,
and into the wall.
(An easy task, since now she probably outweighs him).
Instead, she rolls over,
and sleeps.
poem- perfect October 2, 2014
We are 1-0:
tall and short
quiet and verbose
slender and round
scientific and artistic
Together we are
perfect.
poem- looking (an #Outlander poem) September 29, 2014
“I want to look,”
she says.
Finger outlining
the focus of
her attention,
she walks
a slow, studious circle
of analysis
and inevitable
appreciation.
.
“Fair’s fair,”
he says,
stepping back
with a glint in his eye,
joyfully
thankful for circumstance
that made her
his.
.
.
.
Another poem based on Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander; this one based on Ron Moore’s TV series, specifically episode 107, “The Wedding.”
poem- suspended September 22, 2014
I am
caught
between breath,
hovering within a moment,
alive in every cell,
dying a small death
until I’m inhaling
you
me
infinity.
poem-lying September 21, 2014
I wake
to feel you lying
stretched along
the length of me.
I reach out my hand
and find not flesh
but fur.
You have been replaced
by canine devotion.
.
.
.
.
This is an interesting example of ‘living poetry.’ People ask how I can come up with a poem every day, and I say I see them everywhere. This morning, completely dazed with sleep, this happened, I muzzily composed this poem as I reflected on the surprise, and then fell back to sleep. When I finally got up, there it was, ready to share.
Shawn L. Bird 