Shawn L. Bird

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

poem- flash December 31, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:11 am
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Just like that

you were back.

A flash.

Years had disappeared.

Your hair glistened in the light of the theatre,

our laughter and the crunch of popcorn on the air.

A flash.

Grief seeped through me,

sucking me back to the day they said

you were gone.

.

.

RIP Lloyd. 1964-1997 No one is truly dead until they are not remembered any more.

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poem- laughing eyes April 30, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:17 pm
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A poem for Cheryl: 1964-2018

.

In every photo

you’re focused on those you love:

eyes gleaming,

radiating joy.

You wrap your arms around

grinning little girls,

smother them in kisses,

tackle them with tenderness.

Mother, mother, mother

in every fibre.

And now the children are bereft,

and your laughing eyes

have left the world.

We will look for your smile

in children who will never know you,

and see your laughter through your daughters’ eyes

as they embrace their babies.

 

poem-middle February 12, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:37 pm
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You were middle aged

when we were twenty-seven,

but we didn’t know.

I feel like I am just beginning,

but you have ended.

I can not get my head around

this unexpected cutting

of a thread that should still be winding

through our tapestry.

 

poem- watcher April 18, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:17 am
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I pass the old man

on his balcony.

Huge sunglasses

through which he watches

like a

diurnal owl;

the world unfolds below him.

 

Just like my dad liked to sit.

I don’t wipe away

my tear.

 

poem-toothpaste love March 6, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:22 am
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This was your toothpaste.

The tube still holds the contours of your fist

the last squeeze you gave it.

I wrap my hand around

imagine your grip,

the skin on your hand like satin tissue

squeezing paste to scrub your teeth.

It is a long time before I can remove the lid

and squeeze the paste onto my own brush.

Remembering your hand

holding mine.

 

poem- acid December 7, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:30 am
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Boy hiking out of bounds slips into acidic hot pool at Yellowstone

dies.

Huge flock of snow geese land in an old, acidic open pit mine

well over ten thousand birds

die.

She lands into a relationship, ripe with promise, is tripped

by his acidic wit, and a bit of her

dies.

One never knows when the innocuous will turn

perilous.

.

.

.

http://gizmodo.com/thousands-of-snow-geese-die-after-landing-on-toxic-mini-1789760515

Man Dissolved in Acidic Water After Trying to Soak in Yellowstone National Park Hot Pool

 

 

poem- letting go December 6, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:33 am
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Mother’s fingers

always gripped tightly to your small ones

amid the crowds.

Now she’s letting go

and you wish your grip was tight enough

to make her stay.

.

for Lori.

 

 
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