Shawn L. Bird

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

poem- breaking March 9, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:49 pm
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For Danielle, with love

.

Breaking heart

Taking future

Making mockery

I doubt the happy start,

wrapped in a painful ending,

rending all I believed,

feeling deceived

by the life we’d conceived.

Paths onward wending,

sending me,

setting me free.

Taking me,

creating me,

letting me

be,

Breaking past,

Taking a stance,

Making me dance.

 

 

 

 

 

poem-wear January 8, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:20 am
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Remember how you’d mock him

tell us his weaknesses, laugh about him.

Remember how you voiced your petty irritations

in every letter or conversation?

He would never utter a word against you,

as you wore him down, year after year.

Water on stone.  Cutting through bedrock.

And now she writes constant words of joy in him,

gushes over him like a waterfall,

and he pools around her with pleasure.

It’s a relief to see his happiness, someone appreciating him.

I watch and wonder whether you wish you’d chosen

better words, or whether you savour being alone?

.

.

.

I could have written this about so many people I know or know of.  It’s such a common pattern.   One sows seeds of one’s own destruction.

 

poem-loveless April 4, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:42 pm
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Oh, you said the words

“This one appreciates me for me!”

and I wonder what you call

that twenty-five years of steadfast devotion

that you tossed.

The weasel face beside you now

does not look like a fair trade

for the pain you caused.

You said those words once before,

if I recall, so perhaps he’ll taste the bitter tang

of your boredom someday.

In the meantime,

we really should just let you go,

and welcome the joy that’s possible

now the wounds have healed.

.

.

http://www.napowrimo.net prompt for Day 4- a love poem without the cliches or a break up poem.

 

poem-flames February 7, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:52 pm
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She’s caught between the flames

of inferno and ice

Accusations of blame,

of who’s not playing nice.

She’s caught between the fury

of defeat and aggression,

For neither is sorry

and all leads to depression.

She’s caught between love

crushed between hate

a magician’s dove

that is stuffed then must wait.

She’s caught between threads

stuffed up their sleeves

’til she’s dangling her head

beneath the nearest trees.

 

 

poem-voyageur January 26, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 4:44 am
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So you packed your canoe,

left a good man,

gave away that puppy,

you’d given to

those good boys,

those sweet little boys,

and rowed off to find yourself

on a river of their tears.

I hope the discovery

proves worth it

in the end.

 

poem- wasted day October 2, 2014

On this day

I remember a ghost anniversary,

the day in 1976

when my sister was married.

My 12 year old figure was

encased in my mother’s girdle

beneath a hideous rust bridesmaid gown.

I sported a new Vidal Sasoon bob,

felt bold and grown up with

my uni-brow plucked.

I remember my father’s scowl

when a groomsman with waist length hair

obeying rattling spoons, bent to kiss me,

and the resulting blush.

The marriage lasted four years.

My daughter wore the hideous dress

when she was twelve.

She called herself a princess;

rust suits her.

Too bad my sister

never saw it.

.

.

.

You know, that whole girdle thing is really weird.  I was not a pudgy child by any reckoning.  I probably weighed about 95 lbs around the time of this wedding.  I recall it was my idea, so I must have been self-conscious of a little paunch, which at 12, was not paunch at all.  Very strange how girls are, isn’t it?

.

I looked for the wedding photos in the album, but it looks like I took them out of those photo eating ‘magnetic’ glued albums, and who knows where I put them.  Sorry!

 

 

poem-daggers July 30, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 5:31 am
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If you think

the new guy

loves you for you

perhaps it’s just that

he hasn’t noticed yet,

who you really are?

Have you sliced him yet

with those word daggers,

eviscerating his affections,

hacking out his heart,

and bleeding out

years of devotion?

Have you belittled him

in front of family,

friends, and children,

torn him into pieces,

crushed his spirit,

and pushed him to despair?

Not yet?

We’ll give it time.

Eventually

he’ll know you

for the daggers

in your smile.

.

.

.

.

“Where we are, There’s daggers in men’s smiles: the near in blood, The nearer bloody.”

MacBeth  II.iii.

 

poem-karma July 4, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:29 am
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You told the kids

he was useless, stupid, weak.

You bullied him

into believing it himself.

You kicked him

out the door, and mocked his

adoring devotion to you.

You didn’t deserve him

and now someone better

has discovered a treasure.

So while you sleep

from man to man,

like the good Christian woman

you always claimed to be,

your kids now see what

you had blinded them to.

That kind, loving man

is finally getting the relationship

he deserves.

.

.

,

Just heard yet another story of some woman abusing her kind-hearted man, and I had a flashback.  Excuse the rant.  (cough).

 

poem-seen June 9, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:36 pm
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There is a gentleness

and a comfort you’re wearing now,

so unlike the anger

and anguish that was your shield.

We’ve seen you change

from besieged warrior to

confident ruler of your world.

We have seen

and we are glad.

 

She’s gone October 17, 2010

Filed under: Poetry,Pondering — Shawn L. Bird @ 6:33 pm
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Today I’m thinking about all those times when we don’t hear what someone is saying to us very clearly, because we have our own agenda. Hearing the full truth may open a door we don’t want to open, but glorious things may be inside if we have courage to accept difficult changes.

.

She’s gone this time

And it’s for good.

Don’t beg.  Don’t cry.

Because it’s good.

I know you can’t

See past your pain

And you wish all

Could be the same

She’s gone this time

And it’s for good.

Don’t beg.  Don’t cry.

Because it’s good.

.

You’ve tried before

To re-arrange

A month or two

You make a change.

But if it’s about

Getting her back

You’re never changing

The greatest lack.

She’s gone this time

And it’s for good.

Don’t beg.  Don’t cry.

Because it’s good.

.

Quit loving her

And love yourself

Take your fragility

Off the shelf.

See who you are

And learn to be

The best you can

So you can see

She’s gone this time

And it’s for good.

Don’t beg.  Don’t cry.

Because it’s good.

.

You’re better when

You’re not with her

With all the anger

In the air.

She wants to be a

Better self

And that’s why

She repeatedly tells

She’s gone this time

And it’s for good.

Don’t beg.  Don’t cry.

Because it’s good.

.

It’s time for you

To push, to grow

It will be hard

Change is, we know

You’re worth the pain

You will endure

You’ll transform for you

And not for her.

She’s gone this time

And it’s for good.

Don’t beg.  Don’t cry.

Because it’s good.

.

When you can smile and

See your strengths

And understand you’re worth

All the lengths

that others take

to make you see

You’re worth who you

Are bound to be.

When freed from all

Toxicity

That brings you down

And poisons you

And blinds you to

What’s really true

She’s gone this time

And it’s for good.

Don’t beg.  Don’t cry.

It’s truly good

For both of you.

.

.

Here’s another blog post that reflects this theme beautifully.  When will the message get through?  http://deadpoet88.wordpress.com/2010/10/21/the-art-of-longing

Oh wow.  We got a blog poetry award from the Thursday Poetry Rally!  How cool is that?

 And although this was posted in October, somehow we received an Honourable Mention for September…

 

 

 
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