Shawn L. Bird

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

poem-Wednesday September 13, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:30 am
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I woke to my alarm’s

jaunty greeting, lay lulled, wondering where you were,

until I found the sense of you, pressed against my shoulder blades.

I lay, enjoying the warm weight of you,

until the alarm started up again.

It meant it this time.

So, regretfully,

I pulled away from you,

buried my face in your warm belly,

said farewell as you stretched and smiled up at me.

Wednesday will be a long day apart,

but I will return,

and you’ll be waiting,

eagerly.

.

.

.

(a little homage to my canine companion!)

 

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poem-thinking of you September 3, 2017

Filed under: Friendship,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:23 pm
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Today, I’m thinking of you,

new friend, met for a weekend,

those intense moments of stretching

ourselves into expectation,

birthing pains.

I find your words here,

between the pages,

and hear the anguish of your loss.

I remember our late night conversation,

the smile you fought for as you shared.

I’m thinking of you,

and wishing you lightness,

today.

 

poem-in praise of grey clouds March 26, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:57 am
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You’re overcast again,

a nearly perennial state,

but I have a colourful umbrella

for contingencies,

and I’m safe from sunburn.

Blue sky is beautiful, of course,

but the texture of tangled

shades of grey offering drama

has some appeal,

in small doses, at least.

 

 

poem- night music August 25, 2014

I was the lone

talentless one

in a room of musicians.

As each took his place,

at his instrument

I turned on the cassette

recorder, determined

to capture the moment.

I collapsed onto

the couch, in

blurry eyed reverie

as the music tangled

in my brain, filled the

basement, bounced

off the ceiling tiles.

The pianist glanced

into my starry eyes

and grinned.

The others teased

between their strings,

but words fell away

in the fog of my euphoria.

His lips curled upwards

on one side

as his eyes twinkled at mine.

When he packed to go

I rewound the tape.

I heard the

mangled mess of a

damaged tape.

Devastated, I

blinked through

tearful eyes.

Everyone  laughed,

but he draped an

arm around my shoulders

and guided me up the stairs.

As his ride arrived

he whispered,

“Don’t worry.

I’ll make you

more music.”

And

he

did.

.

.

.

(Is it any wonder I wrote a book about this? lol  Tonight, I had a flashback.  Thought I’d share.)

 

 
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