Shawn L. Bird

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

poem-Dear Rachael March 15, 2024

Filed under: Friendship,poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:58 pm
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Dear Rachael,

After years of joy with Jamila Mai

It’s very hard to say goodbye.

Rachael!

making us all grow daring

baring our bellies! Our thighs shaking

like jellies, as we shimmied

our way to a happier day

making laughter priority—

What a joyful sorority!

Flyng veils like full sails,

Sounding zagreets as we’d come

Every week. We dressed up

and had fun. Everyone welcome,

whether younger or older, the shy

and the bolder; we twisted our hips

to long-lasting friendships.

Folks overcame fears because

Rachael was here.

When we are apart, we’ll still zill in our hearts:

“I want chicken legs not chicken wings, buddy.”

‘Til we see you again.

.

.

This poem was performed and presented at Rachael’s last Jamila Mai hafla March 13, 2024. Nearly 20 years of dancing for joy in the Shuswap and she is moving to the Island. It was so sad, but wonderful to see so many dancers from various times through the years could all gather to dance together for another time!

.

.

.

.

.

 

RIP Queen Elizabeth II September 9, 2022

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:01 am
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Royal life’s goals:
-serve
-honor.

Finis.

Elizabeth R
1926-2022


Wordy 30 poem: six 5-letter words.
(I confess, spelling honor without the ‘u’ in this context hurts a bit).

 

poem-Why aren’t you playing? February 10, 2022

Filed under: Poetry,poodles — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:43 pm
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Ramona spent the weekend racing around

The agility arena with her latest training partner,

Sewing personalized dog coats for friends,

Feeding a platoon of poodles

And a concert of birds,

Laughing,

Doing,

Playing.

Ramona didn’t dwell on the degeneration

That made most days painful;

She didn’t focus on the losses,

The quotidian agonies of aging.

I posted a plaintive photo, poor dog begging,

“Play with me, Mom?”

Ramona typed back, “So why aren’t you playing?”

Mere hours later, Ramona left the earth.

Her last words to me ring a challenge

Amid these pain-filled days.  We have just one life to embrace

What brings us joy.  Despite all the grief,

The sun still rises; there are things to do.  Today, find time

to play.

.

.

.

Rest in Peace, Ramona Stirling

 

poem- Daddy’s sweater December 17, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:29 pm
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I am zipped up in Daddy’s green sweater.
Mom knitted, purled, cabled together
some semblance of love.
He wore it with joy almost every day,
telling all admirers how it was made with love.
It’s wrapped around me,
but it’s not his firm arms,
not his smell (which wasn’t peppermint
or aftershave, but just him),
not his whisper in my ears,
Love you so much.
How can another year have past
without him? How can a sweater
be both so full
and so bereft of him?