Shawn L. Bird

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

poem-song June 6, 2020

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:25 am
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It is my mother’s second

dying day.

I awaken, heart heavy,

to the house finch’s

happy song.

An accompanist,

as a spirit dances its


into eternity.


poem-ending December 2, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:51 am
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So many questions I’ve wondered

Who was your first love?

Why did you make this decision?

What do you wish?

What have you learned?

What do you advise?

But you have always said,

each person takes his own journey,

what you learned was for you alone,

and so you’ve kept your secrets,

and soon I will be asking questions

to the wind.


poem- alienation September 18, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 7:00 pm
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She speaks of the alienation of senses.

vision fades

hearing lies

touch hurts

taste dulls

smell empties

What remains is the acute sense of memory

and occasionally a sense of humour

at the irony

of it all.


poem-what they said September 23, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:54 am
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While he was dying

the nurses at his bedside

chatted with one another.

When he came back to life

he told them what he heard

and they could not

meet his eyes.



(true story)



poem-dying June 27, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:53 am
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One tumour

one bed

two hands clasped

four walls

five chairs

eleven shallow breaths a minute

twenty-four  syringes of pain meds

counting down now

four days since you ate

five days since you spoke

how many hours

of life?




Good bye Auntie Linda

who passed away at 10 p.m. June 26, 2014

apparently moments before I wrote this poem.

I’d been with her at 9 p.m.




poem- half a year June 14, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:07 pm
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Six months ago

you were fighting to play pickle ball

laughing on the small court

stretching your racket to hit the ball

stumbling and crashing onto the court,

filling your head with

flashing white fireworks,

exploding star bursts.


you are fighting for two more weeks

laughing with guests in the small room,

stretching your life to see your children

stumbling and crashing against time

filling your belly with fluid,

flashing white pain

imploding your life




For Auntie Linda


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