Shawn L. Bird

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

poem-then they peeled back their faces November 5, 2020

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:00 pm
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then they peeled back their faces

Read this
you said to me.
I poured over words
with the focus of any girl
trying to impress her crush.
Oh, how the story spoke hidden horror!
Everyone in disguise.
No one revealing their true selves.
Forty years meditating on those masks.
2020! Society in masquerade!
Kindness, care, concern: all fake.
The true horror’s been revealed.

 

Poem- It’s NOT about the shoes? October 1, 2020

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:27 am
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sometimes it’s ALL about the shoes.

‘Cause daring to wear those shoes

is daring to celebrate your self

your passion

your individuality.

I wear wild and funky shoes

because it’s about me in the shoes

and what they tell everyone else.

It’s definitely about the shoes.

Believe it.

.

.

(and that is the whole premise behind the Nikki Knox stories! Check the link above if you love great shoes, too!)

 

poem- identity June 4, 2020

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:50 am
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Your name drips heavy irony:

joyful, playful, desirable.

Was that a youthful you

I never knew?

What carved through

who you were meant to be

and left such an antipode

behind?

 

poem-they’re all the same May 6, 2019

Filed under: Poetry,Teaching — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:15 pm
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Pick up any yearbook

any place

any year.

Turn the pages,

you will recognize them.

That one:

always so friendly.

That one:

forever in trouble.

That one:

so cool.

That one:

Oh! The music!

That one:

skipped more than attended

That one:

kept you up nights,

worried about wise choices

safe places.

Any yearbook,

familiar faces,

each so unique,

every one the same.

 

poem-next April 8, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:30 am
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This moonlit night,

snow glowing with

luminescent memories,

I stroll along the old paths

thinking of the mystery you

made of me.

Identity molded like play dough

childhood laughter

leaching from the cracks of yesterday.

I can’t say anymore

who I am.

.

(another character perspective poem about Lydia & Dustin)

 

 

poem- poem vs ink December 8, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:50 am
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A poem, found in the comments of NUDGE. By Shawn and Chris

.

Your mind, has to be much better.

You ‘re not getting shock treatment too?

Are you?

Not electro-shock, at least

They’re trying to make me look crazy.

Every time i go to the hospital

Strapped to a bed…

You may be fine, but

perhaps the drugs are crazy?

Drugs are how i am…

Where does one end and the other begin?

Is a place ahead

separate from that identity?

desired?

willed?

(Is this a poem?)

No,

drugs are part of the poem

Life is the poem;

drugs are just your ink.

 

poem-new February 20, 2017

The shape of this idea

is new,

resolving conceptually around

a

round

never-ending

novelty

what the mirror reveals of me.

The shape of this idea

greets daily astonishment

as “You can be” turns out to be true.

Who knew?

 

poem- believed me January 20, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:55 am
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I believed me

when I told myself I couldn’t do it.

I believed me

when I told myself nothing could be done.

I believed me

when I told myself nothing could change.

I believed me,

but I was wrong.

 

poem-naming January 7, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:18 am
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In throes of passion

he never screams her name

and she wonders whether

he is ravishing secret loves

in his mind.

 

poem-identity October 23, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:39 pm
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Daughter, wife, mother, student, teacher

each role I embrace in the search for myself

poet, writer, dancer, seamstress, preacher

constrained by expectations, trying to excel,

battling responsibilities, expanding my reach.

Stop.

I’m tired of being caught in this box!

I need to be free of these responsibilities;

I need to find me.

I don’t fit in this box, in this space or this place,

where I have been a chrysalis.

Now,

I    a  m    o  u  t  s  t  r  e  t  c  h  e  d,

gossamer wings unfolding from this abyss of my history,

from what they said I had to be–

what I thought I had to be–

I am embracing destiny;

accepting all the facets of my identity,

I have discovered

me.

 

 
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