Shawn L. Bird

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

poem- sovereign treochair September 23, 2022

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:16 pm
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Majesty
Such service you have given
Commonwealth family.

Those corgis
Standing as the hearse went by
Give for love’s sake, happily.

Gratefully
Crowds gather to say farewell
Long service in sovereignty.
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A treochair is an Irish poetry form. Triplet stanzas have an A, B, A rhyme scheme and 3, 7, 7 syllable count.

 

poem-split September 18, 2022

Broken heart,
How has this child crushed hope,
Torn relationship apart?

You’re a ghost.
They don’t give a damn these days;
Occasional text at most.

Maybe time
will heal whatever lies here,
Give grace, pass this pantomime.

This is a treochair poem. The triplet stanzas have an ABA rhyme scheme, a 3, 7, 7 syllable count, and alliteration.

 

poem-before your death September 3, 2022

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:17 am
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Lasting smile
lingering
memory.

You and I
lakeside walks
sunset dreams.

What once was:
happiness.
Now a void.

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A tricube: 3 stanzas of 3 lines with 3 syllables each.

 

poem- Daddy’s sweater December 17, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:29 pm
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I am zipped up in Daddy’s green sweater.
Mom knitted, purled, cabled together
some semblance of love.
He wore it with joy almost every day,
telling all admirers how it was made with love.
It’s wrapped around me,
but it’s not his firm arms,
not his smell (which wasn’t peppermint
or aftershave, but just him),
not his whisper in my ears,
Love you so much.
How can another year have past
without him? How can a sweater
be both so full
and so bereft of him?

 

playgrounds and graveyards May 31, 2021

The elders told you.
Trembling voices.
Feathers clutched for courage.
They told you of their sisters, brothers, and cousins
who did not come home.
Those who crept out at night and
walked through wilderness to return home.
Those who got sick and died.
Those who were beaten.
Those who were broken.
Those who were battered.
So many buried.
The elders told you how truth had been buried, too.


So many lost children.
Now 215 have been found.
Their bones are proof to the elders’ words.
Who is surprised?
Children buried in unmarked graves.
See what is also buried there:
Denial. Shame.
Voices rise in sorrow.
Now what will be done
to bring peace to the children who survived?
Grown with a burden of brokeness. Grief swallowed.
How will the elders’ trauma be relieved?

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This poem references the discovery of the mass grave of 215 children on the grounds of the Kamloops Residential School. Read an article about it here: https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/british-columbia/tk-eml%C3%BAps-te-secw%C3%A9pemc-215-children-former-kamloops-indian-residential-school-1.6043778

 

poem-outside April 29, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:53 am
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(Napowrimo day 29 is about describing a scene out a window, but this morning I was standing in a doorway observing, so I’ll use that moment).

This morning outside my door,

cacophony of small birds

catcalling to the universe:

Oooh baby! Look at me!

Our place! Get away!

Twittering spring tumult

screeches and titters.

The world persists,

though you have ceased.

 

poem- are you singing now? April 27, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:38 pm
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in the end

you had to sing the hymns in your head

fill your mind with the music

that could not escape

in the end

she held your hand

entwined your fingers

listened to your last breath

in the end

angels embraced you

brought you into their choirloft

and left us all bereft,

at your beginning.

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NaPoWriMo Day 27.
A bit of an elegy. This April has been full of poems of grieving. *Another* dear one died yesterday. (5 precious souls lost to us in 10 mos, 3 in April alone!) His glorious voice is now raised with the angels, but oh how we will miss it here on Earth. RIP Randy
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ignore ads following

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poem-carvings April 26, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:45 am
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Outside my window: blue sky, new green.

Promise and potential

A future of fecundity.

Inside my heart: fog, ice

You are gone

The planet is too joyful

for such a day.

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NaPoWriMo Day 26.
The prompt today was for a humorous parody, but as I received the news of the death of another dear person in my life this weekend, humour is not on my mind. 4 great losses in 10 months. What a wearisome year this has been.
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Ignore any ads following

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poem-Counting Crows April 8, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:00 am
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Saturday
seven crows: silent
vigil. We
come, one by
one, say sorrowful farewells.
On Sunday: eight crows.

One crow mourns with us
as a lifetime leaves her house
in boxes.
Memories
lost, unless known to
eleven crows.

An allusion, of course, to the traditional rhyme:
Counting Crows
One for sadness, two for mirth;
Three for marriage, four for birth;
Five for laughing, six for crying:
Seven for sickness, eight for dying;
Nine for silver, ten for gold;
Eleven a secret that will never be told.


For NaPoWriMo day 8, this poem is a 6 line shadorma, with a reverse shadorma in the second stanza. The syllable count is 3/5/3/3/7/5. The shadorma was introduced with the fib form yesterday, but I wanted to play with both.

 

poem-spring? March 28, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:15 pm
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Geese call
mournful fly past.
The year is reborn
Why does my heart
hear autumn’s sorrow?

 

 
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