Shawn L. Bird

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

poem-preservation June 10, 2019

We need to be respectful

of tender psyches, mental illness,

all the agonies of existence.

We need to be respectful

of our own tenderness

and pained existence.

When being gentle of their tender troubles,

makes aches worse for ourselves,

who needs to respect whom?

Draw battle lines,

or at least find a bastion

against cries

calling you to your destruction,

dragging you to drown in the moat of their fragility.

Be respectful of your own precious sanity.

 

poem-should it be that way? May 10, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 5:23 pm
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It was a suicide.

Two weeks have passed.

“The funeral is today.

Or. Not a funeral.  A celebration of life.”

Matter-of-fact voice.

How many times had intention

shown him this path?

That prescription the only protection

against this road.

“Would you like me to come with you?”

Translation:

Let me watch you in this crowd.

See if I can read your mind.

“No. I’m going to stand. It’ll be crowded.”

Did he know,

so many people would want to be there?

Did he know,

so many people cared?

Or was he counting on them,

covering for him when

he wasn’t there?

Two paths forking off this road,

wives watching the journey,

or buried by it.

 

 

poem- celebration April 21, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 7:40 pm
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Gathering

pretend belonging

watch for signs of genuine affection

play the game,

be the same,

absorbing affectations

whispered longings

Gathering

connection.

 

poem- roots December 19, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:35 am
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And what of you?

Do dark mornings creep around your heart

Reaching through night

Pushing past sight to wrap you tightly

In tomorrow?

What of you?

Your lonely walk, your feet tapping

On cobblestones in ancestral towns,

tripping on the roots of the family tree;

calamity or peace?

I see the dream

That’s you.

 

poem- My daughter says July 8, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:55 pm
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My daughter says

.   my hair’s too long;

.   it drags my formerly too round face

.   down.

My daughter says

.   my car’s too girlish;

.   pastel seats and butterflies

.   are frivolous.

My daughter says

.   my voice is too strident;

.   her ears are are hurt

.    by their happy cadence.

To my daughter I say

.    life’s too short to be

.    a fuddy-duddy*

.    before you’re thirty.

.

.

*fuddy-duddy: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fuddy-duddy

 

poem- circles June 7, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:34 am
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Spinning circles

mother

daughter mother

daughter

father

son father

son.

.

Apples falling

from apple trees

.

Same old punches

Same old stories

Same old shouts

Same old glories

.

Grandmothers,

  mothers, daughters

grandfathers,

fathers,  sons

.

No one steps out of the centrifuge

Spinning in

generations.

 

poem-baby April 2, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 7:17 pm
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Baby

you’re far away.

Maybe

you’ll come home with me.

Maybe

it will be.

Baby

I just wanna say

if someday you’re here with me

You’ll be my only baby

and I’ll love you

unconditionally.

.

.

(There might be a poodle puppy in my near future.  He needed a poem.  Maybe his poem should have been “One of these things is not like the others” because like me, he stands out in the group!  Guess which one?)  😉

 

 
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