I am
caught
between breath,
hovering within a moment,
alive in every cell,
dying a small death
until I’m inhaling
you
me
infinity.
poem- time travelling July 6, 2014
For my eighteenth birthday
He wrote me a song.
Flutes and strings danced
in my honour,
a musical farewell,
recorded on cassette.
I filled the rest of the tape
with a treasury of captured moments:
His playing, my laughter,
melancholy dreams.
All synthesized on
The Lost Tape.
.
Years of wondering where it went.
.
Today. My birthday
I picked up an empty cassette case,
and it was not empty.
The case showed my face,
listed harp tunes by me, but inside
not me:
Ancient history.
A birthday present
from eighteen year old me
to middle-aged me,
magnetic taped
memories,
for time-travelling.
..
.
I feel inclined to add a photo, which I probably will remove later, so enjoy it while it’s here. The composer of the song, compiler of the cassette, my grad escort. Me at 18. (I had just been swimming, excuse the hair). 😉
poem- after June 25, 2014
After he came to her bed
she threw out her make up,
grew her hair over her face,
and zipped up a blubber suit.
After he came to her bed
she faded into a gossamer ghost,
hidden in plain sight.
poem- unfinished Canadian joke June 5, 2014
On the side of the highway:
a body of thick fur and flat leathery tail.
Why did the beaver cross the road?
I guess we’ll never know.
poem- eviction May 28, 2014
The ospreys
have reclaimed their
towering nesting boxes
evicting squatting
Canada Geese.
Their raptor eyes
study the horizon
and I wonder
if they raptured
over goose eggs.
.
.
A corollary to an earlier post:
One commenter was concerned about goslings hurting themselves falling out of the nesting platforms. That was the least of their worries, apparently.
poem- last May 27, 2014
You are the quiet voice
who never asks for help.
You struggle to work it out while
the loud kids,
the needy kids,
the busy kids
demand the teacher’s time.
You never cause a stir
so you are rarely served
when funding’s cut
and more needs surround you.
The teacher will
always get to you last
if she can get to you
at all.
We’re not okay with that.
But the government
says teachers
are just greedy.
poem- mowing stereotypes May 26, 2014
The skinny old lady,
grey hair twisted into a bun,
leathery skin, artfully wrinkled,
roars around her yard
in her bikini top,
mowing in the rain.
poem- sign May 22, 2014
Out front the high school
Each morning,
A man stands,
Bearing above his head a
One word pronouncement.
Watching parents leaving
Their children,
Teachers driving in,
He tilts his sign to catch
All eyes.
Morning after morning:
PRAYER.
Each day I ponder
His cryptic word.
Is it protest
or encouragement?
Prayer ?
for kids
to be attentive?
to do their homework?
to embrace their learning opportunity?
to have supportive homes?
Prayer for staff
to be patient?
to be available?
to see what needs to be seen?
to do what needs to be done?
It’s not such a terrible reminder,
for anyone,
whatever the motivation.
poem- change May 15, 2014
I would name you
Summer Sun,.
gift you with warm days,
laughter,
joy.
I would take away your darkness,
fill you with light,
give your words flight,
embrace hope
in your future.
poem- duck! May 2, 2014
The men blaze the trail
boldly go forward
willing to risk
to achieve the destination.
And so today
mallard male zips across the highway
boldly flapping, barely
missing the VW missile
travelling 100 km/hr.
Not so fortunate his lady friend
flapping five feet behind.
Ladies
sometimes it is unwise
to blindly follow your mate.
Shawn L. Bird 