Shawn L. Bird

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

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.

 

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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.

 

poem- sweeping November 15, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 4:41 pm
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The sky lady

is sweeping

dust plumes at

her lazy husband.

They billow all around him,

but still he snoozes

on his blue easy chair.

 

 
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