She stepped from
behind the mystery
enveloped our
complicated history
Buried us in
the depths of her mercy
unravelled the strings
of our worry,
spun us in from
exile at the periphery,
and celebrated our
joyful new liberty.
poem- swirl January 16, 2014
Reality spins
into imagination
awakening dreams
long forgotten.
Reality whirls
through intimations
of what seems
downtrodden
Reality curls
into foundations
revealing themes
all new again.
poem- silence January 12, 2014
In response to a poetheme prompt on Twitter, a micropoem:
.
My silence is my power
A weapon of contemplation
& distillation
The weapon of a sage,
enraged.
poem-potentially January 2, 2014
He is
-potentially-
all he
is.
.
She is
-essentially-
all she
is.
.
They are
-exponentially-
all they
are.
poem- reminiscence November 2, 2013
.
The rain on this sky light
makes me long for
pattering on the tin roof,
a warm wood stove,
old friends
from then.
.
.
Ah. Our lovely acreage house when the kids were little, life was simpler, and close friends were near.
Oh look! It was for sale again! http://pglistings.ca/buy/17360_Woods_Road Wow. We purchased it for $126k in 1993. I personally tiled that fireplace and hung that (very dated!) oak towel ring in the upstairs bathroom. Lots is new though- from the beige everywhere to the wood floors and the side deck (built just as we’d envisioned it). I miss the stairs at the front of the deck to the front door- it’s weird to only have the back stairs! We also planted several dozen baby pine trees that are now 20 feet tall across the front and along the drive way. I wonder where their living room furniture is? >>sigh<< Such a beautiful place. Sometimes I still dream of this house.
poem- pondering holiness October 16, 2013
Sanctum sanctorum
Holy of holies
Peeled from decorum
Whipping up follies
Shredded and tore them
Fighting for soul ease
Making good for him
Striving to fill peace
Sanctum sanctorum
Wholly ’til holy.
poem- distance does not change the feelings September 26, 2013
The distance does not change the feelings.
the reeling,
wheeling,
squealing of my soul,
no longer whole.
The space between us stretches
and in the distance you grow small
and old,
But time has folds
in dreams I hold
you close
My soul finds healing.
Though space and time change feelings,
you haven’t changed at all.
.
.
.
,
First line compliments of
Captain T @capt_blueson Twitter
A chorus line July 1, 2013
Two horses, white and bay
stand companionably
munching their lunches.
Atop the bay,
upon each vertebrae,
perches a bitty bird,
observing the world:
A small flock aligned
along an equine
telephone line.
The white mare, back bare,
munches, and muses
on popularity’s
winners and losers.
.
.
Coming home from work the other day, I looked into a field and was amused to see this sight. I wish I’d had my camera with me, but since I didn’t, here’s a picture made from words for you. 😉
need a poem March 10, 2013
(Read this one aloud, in slam style)
.
I need a poem.
I need to feed on bones of poems.
To seed strong reeds that groan like bones and sound like poems,
I need to lead the words that alone clone more poems.
I need a poem to seed, to grow.
I need a poem to read, to know.
Beyond fat groaning tomes I need the brevity of poems.
To be complete, to seek, to speak,
I need a poem.
Shawn L. Bird 