Shawn L. Bird

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

poem- My daughter says July 8, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:55 pm
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My daughter says

.   my hair’s too long;

.   it drags my formerly too round face

.   down.

My daughter says

.   my car’s too girlish;

.   pastel seats and butterflies

.   are frivolous.

My daughter says

.   my voice is too strident;

.   her ears are are hurt

.    by their happy cadence.

To my daughter I say

.    life’s too short to be

.    a fuddy-duddy*

.    before you’re thirty.

.

.

*fuddy-duddy: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fuddy-duddy

 

poem-mother January 27, 2015

Grade eight.

Horror.

Mother is her substitute teacher today.

“Do not

acknowledge

that you know me!” she hissed.

But when her name was called for

attendance, and teacher-mother

looked around for

whichever student would raise her hand,

she glowered,

unhappy

with anonymity.

 

 

poem-fathers October 5, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:23 pm
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I grew up

a pampered princess

a late life arrival, long desired.

I felt my father’s

fondness every day-

a travelling salesman

who never missed a moment

of my active life.

But you

lost your father

along the way, lost sight

of him over the barriers

your mother built between you.

What was it like to find him

as he was dying, knowing

he had never stopped

loving you, though you

were equally lost to him?

Once you found him,

he slipped into eternity.

As I watch you, so

polished at your work,

on this career high,

I wonder,

Are you still a lost boy?

Or did the chance to embrace him

at the end of his life,

to know how proud he was of you,

help ease the sorrow

as you set him free to fly?

I forgive you

for not meeting me for tea

And I wonder,

what kind of father

will you let yourself be?

.

.

(For S&D)

 

 
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