The gummy smile
stretches wide across the chubby cheeks
and the belly jiggles
when baby giggles.
Mothers’ tears April 20, 2013
Never,
ever,
make your
mother cry.
Never,
ever,
bring tears
to her eye.
Never,
ever,
force a
melancholy sigh
Never,
ever,
make her
sacrifices lie.
Never,
ever,
make your
mother cry.
Unless,
she’s blessed,
and tears are joy
wept dry.
Boston April 2013 April 17, 2013
Legs ache
mile after mile
hour after hour.
Grasp gasping.
Aim: medal.
Ahead: Finish
Smoke and
Noise
and
coloured paper falling
like ticker tape.
Metal.
Collapse coughing
Pavement slick.
Legs ache.
I don’t know you April 13, 2013
I don’t know you
and now I never will.
I wanted to.
.
Now you’re gone forever
and I will never
know you,
love you.
.
But I will grieve
for what
might have been.
Found on the WordPress blog roll April 8 April 8, 2013
A warm wind invites much lingering
Rain like a spectator listening
to the gold geometry
where my heart used to be.
Finding myself in Italy,
all I ever wanted to be.
I’m not broken:
shattered iris,
experience of sensuality.
You would be here
under the silky shield.
Stifled tremblings,
a flock of hardy souls
haunting the spaces.
Today I am deep purple,
written in the ink of my tears,
staring at the tea.
.
Second verse, same as the first! Single lines collected from poems on the blog roll from between 1:25 and 2:25 PDT April 8, 2013 and turned into a found poem. If you recognise a line from your poem, please link to your poem!
Found on the blog reader April 7 April 7, 2013
Poetry echoes with vengeance,
Bifurcated lamentations against mortals
Full of dirty melt water.
You tuned the whippoorwills,
we felt larger than life,
huddled together under the blustery illusion.
There’s no exit,
infinite stillness;
weighted gates have slammed rusted shut.
Catch the tears of a sinful angel
ominous beauty
with subtle return.
The waves can’t reach you.
.
This is a found poem.
As I scroll through the WordPress blog reader a few moments ago, certain phrases or lines jump out at me, so today I scribed them, and then re-arranged the bits to make something new and interesting. The challenge is that I can only use the bits I found. What do you think?
I’m coming home March 26, 2013
I’m coming home
From far flung flings
and flailing things
like starfish arms, gripping rock, torn by tide.
.
I’m coming home
to truth tuned tightly
and played upon my harp
like melodies that echo in the wind
from unplucked strings.
.
I’m coming home
in isolated indigo tiptoeing
in Indian moccasins, like flocks I’ve seen
in creeping dreams.
.
I’m coming home
only you will know me
dancing past in dazzling light
and carried on the breeze
but you will know
when I am home.
need a poem March 10, 2013
(Read this one aloud, in slam style)
.
I need a poem.
I need to feed on bones of poems.
To seed strong reeds that groan like bones and sound like poems,
I need to lead the words that alone clone more poems.
I need a poem to seed, to grow.
I need a poem to read, to know.
Beyond fat groaning tomes I need the brevity of poems.
To be complete, to seek, to speak,
I need a poem.
inkless poems February 11, 2013
You do not write
love poetry in ink.
You write me
love poems
with wrenches,
screwdrivers,
and snow shovels.
You are
a breathing
love poem.
encircling silence July 30, 2012
This silence is a circle.
Mine says,
“wrap me with warm words!”
Yours says,
“huh?”
So silence encircles,
Mine says,
“compassion is in companionship.”
Yours says,
“shh.”
Silence circles.
Shawn L. Bird 