Shawn L. Bird

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

poem-contemplating September 25, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:59 am
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I’m wondering

about the tension between your eyes.

Those two deep, etched furrows

creased vertically above your nose

that appear when you smile

that tight lipped smile

below eyes that do not laugh.

You say,

you can’t help the furrows;

they happen every time,

and yet

look:

in the moments when your mouth is agape,

grinning widely,

when laughter is visible,

erupting from your face

see

the furrows are absent.

I wonder,

why you hold yourself back from laughter,

why your eyes show only tension,

that you plough into your forehead,

when you could be planting joy.

I wonder

what hurts.

I wonder

whether I can guide you back

to joy.

 

poem-cure May 26, 2017

The demons are hiding around corners

lurking in the shadows

watching you.

I know you feel the weight

of their gaze

hear the clink of their weapons

every day.

On the sunny days,

you outrun them

find smiles to return to those

around you

in their circles of care.

Other days,

smiles are barred growls,

the glow of sinister eyes pacing

around you,

squeezing life and hope

as their circle crushes in,

suffocating you.

Your demons on their unwitting backs

Your demons in their unwitting smiles

Your demons on their unwitting feet

Your demons in their expectations

Your incessant demons

invisible to others,

writhing,

circling,

just

there.

 

 

 

 

 

poem-blood and stone May 10, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:47 am
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They say

you can’t get blood from a stone,

but there you are

grinding

and bleeding from the effort.

There you are

releasing your hard heart

and weeping change.

Oh sure,

 

it hurts to be stoned

It’ll kill you, if the impact

hits the right place,

but a bloody stone

is only a reminder

of your strength.

Stones were once mountains

Worn by time and pressure

your mountain has become a stone,

and from your tight grip

drips

blood.

 

poem-wings November 23, 2016

Creeping along, devouring everything in sight,

unsatisfied,

wrapped up in strings of your own making

wound up in yourself

chrysalis

waiting for wings.

Patience is a virtue.

You break free, stretch,

the new you quivers with discovery.

You fly,  fill life with sweetness,

bring joy to those who watch you

waltz with the wind

until

you fall life-less.

The core of you crumbles,

but the breeze captures the wings left behind

and carries them,

curling and flipping

to the sky.

 

 

poem-sigh June 21, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:11 am
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Your world is a place of melodrama.

Teacups can’t contain the tempests that turn around you.

Moles man earth movers making mountains.

Stop.

Breathe.

There are so many bigger things in the world,

like poverty, war, disease.

In the scheme of things, that she looked at you funny,

or he didn’t return your tweet,

is worth less than a shrug.

Truly, if you live in a land at peace,

your life is sweet.

 

 

poem-blackbird tree March 19, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 6:59 pm
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The tree is heavy with red-winged blackbirds

like early black fruit,

strangely silent gathering

before the territorial grumblings begin.

 

poem-waving September 20, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:33 am
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Between the slats of the Venetian blinds,

I see outside the window, to frenzied frolicking

blue spruce bouncing

pine tree pirouetting

maple making waves

beneath a grey sky

dancing in time to my wind chime’s tune.

 

poem- heat June 18, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:36 am
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Summer bakes us all

we glisten, basted,

glossy, full of scent

on the beach coconut

on the track athletic musk.

The dog lies panting

collapsed in a cool for now spot

We long for air conditioning

and winter ice.

 

 

poem- symphony of agony January 11, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 4:27 am
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This pain is a discordant symphony.

Percussion throbs a bass in the bone.

Piccolo dances of sensation up and down the leg.

Trumpet blasts explode out from the ankle.

Bassoon wails all along the incision site.

Kettle drum beats defiantly deep in the ankle bone. Dum. Dum.  Dum.

Oboe whines a strident screech, vibrating muscle.

Cello squeezes, squeezes, squeezes low notes of agony.

Oh pain, go away; return my body to harmony.

 

poem- winter sounds November 26, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:43 pm
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The

rasping

scraping

roaring

splattering

of the snow plow

going past,

wakes me rudely

to awareness of

winter’s arrival,

as I slept.