Shawn L. Bird

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

poem-outside April 29, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:53 am
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(Napowrimo day 29 is about describing a scene out a window, but this morning I was standing in a doorway observing, so I’ll use that moment).

This morning outside my door,

cacophony of small birds

catcalling to the universe:

Oooh baby! Look at me!

Our place! Get away!

Twittering spring tumult

screeches and titters.

The world persists,

though you have ceased.

 

poem- are you singing now? April 27, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:38 pm
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in the end

you had to sing the hymns in your head

fill your mind with the music

that could not escape

in the end

she held your hand

entwined your fingers

listened to your last breath

in the end

angels embraced you

brought you into their choirloft

and left us all bereft,

at your beginning.

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NaPoWriMo Day 27.
A bit of an elegy. This April has been full of poems of grieving. *Another* dear one died yesterday. (5 precious souls lost to us in 10 mos, 3 in April alone!) His glorious voice is now raised with the angels, but oh how we will miss it here on Earth. RIP Randy
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poem-carvings April 26, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:45 am
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Outside my window: blue sky, new green.

Promise and potential

A future of fecundity.

Inside my heart: fog, ice

You are gone

The planet is too joyful

for such a day.

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NaPoWriMo Day 26.
The prompt today was for a humorous parody, but as I received the news of the death of another dear person in my life this weekend, humour is not on my mind. 4 great losses in 10 months. What a wearisome year this has been.
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poem-Counting Crows April 8, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:00 am
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Saturday
seven crows: silent
vigil. We
come, one by
one, say sorrowful farewells.
On Sunday: eight crows.

One crow mourns with us
as a lifetime leaves her house
in boxes.
Memories
lost, unless known to
eleven crows.

An allusion, of course, to the traditional rhyme:
Counting Crows
One for sadness, two for mirth;
Three for marriage, four for birth;
Five for laughing, six for crying:
Seven for sickness, eight for dying;
Nine for silver, ten for gold;
Eleven a secret that will never be told.


For NaPoWriMo day 8, this poem is a 6 line shadorma, with a reverse shadorma in the second stanza. The syllable count is 3/5/3/3/7/5. The shadorma was introduced with the fib form yesterday, but I wanted to play with both.

 

poem- He’s sitting there beside her March 9, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:59 am
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I sit down across from them

meet his melancholy eyes,

give him a sad smile, whisper

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

He nods, glancing longingly at his wife

before I remember,

he’s the one

we lost.

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(RIP Rob. Thanks for the dream visit).

 

poem- Poetic Ballet March 7, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:51 am
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Our words

are legacy.

Our hopes, fears, and

dreams pirouette on pages

They jeté into hearts and minds

even after we’ve returned

Á terre.

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(In memory of poet Patrick Lane who left us one year ago today. A lesson I learned from him, “Use specificity in your poems. Don’t just dance, tango!”).

 

poem- This Valentine’s heart February 18, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:30 pm
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Plugged.

Beats stop.

He drops.

Brain dies.

One heart broken

So many hearts grieve.

A Valentine’s Day massacre of our joy.

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RIP Rob

 

poem-After the fatal accident January 11, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:13 pm
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There is your name

on the attendance list.

Absent: excused

Parents called in.

 

poem-Emptying my mother’s house September 7, 2020

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 5:54 pm
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I tell myself,

In the process of creation,

her art fulfilled its purpose.

If the family has chosen what to keep

Freeing the rest to the universe

is just extending its mandate

not a betrayal to her

memory.

 

poem-grey June 8, 2020

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:20 am
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The first day

my mother did not see

dawned grey and heavy

with dew.

But still the finch greeted me

with its joy at waking to

the new.

 

 
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