It was to be a small thing
a little something,
a useful token,
a stylish bibelot,
but it is a large thing
engendering greater
gratitude.
poem-wishes January 4, 2015
She wishes
he were the sort of man
who wears a fedora
with his jeans,
but has learned not
to expect so much
from a farm boy.
poem- heard August 29, 2014
Her words
weren’t heard
His dreams
were empty screams
Her wishes
were lost in riches
His sight
was bathed in light
Her trials
left her reviled
His loneliness
was his holiness
Their relationship
let sensations slip
They tightly gripped
their well-worn scripts.
haiku- flying words May 1, 2014
The words have been
manipulated, twisted, and set.
Now they fly.
.
.
.
Sent off a collection of 4 poems this week for the CBC Literary Awards, squeezing under the wire at the last minute. It’s a huge national competition, and I don’t have any expectation, but nothing ventured, nothing gained! The pieces must never have been published or performed, so they’re a secret. That was the hardest thing: having to write daily for the blog, and compose something distinct for the contest. It’ll be months before winners are announced, so don’t hold your breath. I’m not! 😉 (But feel free to send some positive vibes my way!)
poem-expectations January 3, 2014
“We’re not going to a show,”
he said. “They’re too expensive.”
“Oh,” she said, nodding sagely. “Right.”
They’d travelled all that way
to a sleepless city of lights.
Shows every night.
Wild crazy sights.
She’d packed for a night out.
“I get it,” she said,
smirking to herself.
She waited for his
inevitable surprise,
as he took her for
long walks in daylight
until her beautifully shod feet ached.
Then he napped.
She smiled at his
preparation for a late night
and she practiced her
astonished expression.
First night.
Second night.
Last night.
She gaped at him,
heading to an early bed.
Surprise!
There really is
no surprise.
poem- choose pink December 7, 2013
“No, honey!” the mother said
reaching across that table and plucking
a crayon from her daughter’s hand.
“The sky isn’t pink. Here,
use this blue crayon.”
The little girl blinked tears.
The teacher leaned over,
and studied the picture.
“What a beautiful sunset
you’ve drawn!” she said.
.
.
For Charlotte, who is teaching crafts at the art gallery, and is amazed at some parents.
poem- grey November 2, 2013
Seven days
since you promised,
the grey cloak
over the hills
offers no warmth
for my wishful heart.
Poem-soap July 20, 2013
Sitting on a soap bubble
floating in sunshine
reflected glare on the surface
of my seat
blinds me.
I rise on
the iridescent
clarity
of the emptiness
that is my only
safety
from the
inevitable
bursting
fall
cocooning March 30, 2013
I am wrapping myself ,
Twisting into taut threads of myself.
Coming in
Closing out
Excluding all.
No gatherings
No natterings
No blatherings
I am pulling the strings
and waiting
for wings.
.
.
The last couple of weeks I have felt many pressures to meet expectations, complete tasks, go along with plans, take charge of things, etc. I have a number of large professional obligations ahead this month, and I need to focus. I don’t want to be distracted by what other people think I should be doing. I want to be left to the work I need to do, in my own time, with the ‘down time’ I forge that is actually the time when the creativity is simmering on the back burner, working for me.
Do you find other people get in the way of your goals? How do you deal with it? Have you learned to say no to extended family expectations and imposed obligations to do what you need to do, whether or not they approve? How does it work out for you?
Shawn L. Bird 