Shawn L. Bird

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

poem- picking light August 30, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:10 pm
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For Jordie

 

She sees it on the floor

reaches for the white spot:

light.

Three times the lights calls her.

Three times she reaches.

Three times she rolls her eyes.

She doesn’t need to pick up light,

it already glows within her,

touches everyone she knows.

Her light is kindness,

and it’s overflowing,

and dripping on her floor.

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poem- bad days November 29, 2018

When it’s a bad day,

the pain is there with waking.

Constriction or stabbing,

nausea or aching;

it fills the head until there is nothing in the world

but the hopeless frustration,

that I will never be well again.

When it’s a bad day,

there are no conversations,

no outings or errands,

only holding the head,

taking another pill,

and praying tomorrow will be

a better day.

 

poem- headphone man May 16, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:39 am
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Hey, headphone man

with your head cast down,

I drive past you each day as you soldier on your way,

Always in the same place, unless you are late,

or I am early.

I try to catch your eye, but you march with determination

toward your destination.

I want to share our small connection, give a wave, or smile,

but you just stare at the ground, absorbed in the sound in your head.

Hey headphone man!

Look around!

.

.

I’ve been working on this one for ages, as I do pass this guy every day on my way to work.

 

poem-interpretation February 6, 2018

The Lord of All Knowledge,

Gatekeeper of Truth,

says the poem means this.

Generations of readers bow

before this wisdom,

even though they don’t see it,

can’t believe it,

they just accept it.

When the poet reads

the critic’s piece,

she laughs and laughs

at the irony of such arrogant

assumptions!

Oh, student!

Good reader!

There are no errors

of interpretation in poetry!

Your experiences show you a meaning,

and if you can find lines to support,

your responses are just as valid as any critic’s.

(So the famous poet said to me,

and he should know).

 

poem- I want to know June 6, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:22 pm
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What I want to know

is what the magical ingredient is.

What’s that essential something

that makes this kid go “WOW!”?

Not just this kid, but that kid, too.

You know how some will not be moved,

never seem to find their groove?

I want the magical ingredient for them all,

so when they’re pushed from their nests

they don’t fall, they aim for the skies with eyes

open to opportunity, head full of curiosity.

Every time I think I know the secret

I see another one sneaking by,

not willing to try or

afraid

to try?

What’s broken their curiosity?

Taught them to close out possibility?

It hurts me.

I want to know if that kid

is going to move to his groove later.

Will he save his curiosity to ride a wave

at twenty instead?

I want to see it now,

but late is better than never.

I hope when it happens,

I’ll know.

 

 

 

Poem-Weed June 4, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:19 am
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What’s the difference

between a weed and a flower?

It’s an old one

and a new one.

A blue bell, dandelion yellow one.

A weed

is flower seeding in an inconvenient place.

It just takes its space to put down roots.

It stretches its sights to the sky.

A weed has petals for joy,

nectar for bees,

and pollen for sneezes.

A weed is a flower in an inconvenient place,

Weed is just a label.

It doesn’t alter the beauty, the scent, or the colour.

Flower is just a snooty torment of summer name games.

Let the flowers be free!

Let their promise fly like weeds on the breeze!

Let’s be free of our labels,

be enabled

to bloom through the gloom.

What’s the difference between a weed and a flower?

Perspective.

Indeed.

.

.

(With thanks to Sheri D Wilson who asked the question, and Blu Hopkins who offered an old line)

 

poem- compensations November 4, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:06 am
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It’s a grey day

frost in the air,

but at least I’m greeting it

in a great pair of shoes.

 

 
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