Shawn L. Bird

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

poem- computer woes November 24, 2017

 

You ask me for my email address

When given, much to my distress

You claim it’s already registered.

Why yes!  I tell machine, that’s me, for sure!

You ask me for  user name and password

But when I type them, you claim I’m invalid.

Oh, you passive aggressive machine,

You’re not acting like part of this team!

Inside the circuits of your brain

you’re plotting how to cause me pain.

I can hear your fan blade snicker,

as you plot to raise blood pressure.

Oh computer, use your power for good,

and work like the techies claim you should!

.

.

(Another day, another frustrating encounter with technology!)

 

 

poem-point of view May 5, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:39 am
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So often

what I think is a conversation about me

you think is a conversation about you.

My feelings

aren’t just feelings, they’re an attack.

But they’re not.

They belong to me

and they’re allowed to be

what they are.

I long for you to acknowledge

how I feel

what I wonder

what I want

isolated from your sense

of inadequacy.

I’m tired

tired

tired of your issue

always overshadowing

any of my concerns.

Mental illness

is annoyingly

narcissistic.

Please consider other points of view.

It isn’t always about you.

Really.

Sometimes it’s about me.

 

poem- walk for refuge February 8, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:32 pm
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During the election

we heard some American folks joke

If he wins, we’re moving to Canada!

and we laughed.

But

four hundred and ten

have really done it.

Last week alone

twenty-two

walked for frozen miles

in minus twenty Celsius

to cross the border

to freedom in

(really?)

Manitoba.

They lost fingers and toes to frost bite,

but not their lives to the sound bites

of a xenophobe.

.

.

http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/manitoba/refugees-emerson-border-manitoba-1.3923747

http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/manitoba/refugees-frostbite-highway-75-winnipeg-1.3923430

 

poem-irony March 22, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 6:36 pm
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I saw four bald eagles today:

Three in Canada. One in USA.

 

poem- Tech Lament February 11, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:22 pm
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Once more our tech is down;

Our secretary wears a frown.

Without access to the school network

Her computer has a little quirk:

It’s become a desk decoration

So she delivers colourful oration

On the difference it has made

To get these awesome tech upgrades.

We can not print. We can not copy.

We miss the days when disks were floppy!

We can not file. We can not type.

Improvements? Man, that’s all just hype.

They haven’t improved our telephone

It still works ‘cause they left it alone.

While twiddling our thumbs at least we’re paid

To celebrate these tech upgrades.

 

This year has been remarkably frustrating for us.  Our school district has ‘upgraded’ its technology so everything runs through a network- all our DVD players, copiers, printers, projectors, and computers.  This would be fantastic if the network was stable, but it’s not.  At least half a day each week, and often two or three days, the network is down and we can’t do *anything.*  Students can’t access their work.  No one can research.  We can’t access our presentations.  We can’t show a movie.  Our photocopiers run through the network, so we can’t even copy a paper if we have it in our hand.  We are BEYOND frustrated with these ‘improvements’ and wish they’d just left us alone.  Last year, every thing worked!  We have a innovative school doing amazing things, except when the network shuts us down.  >>>sigh<<<

 

poem- surprise November 6, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:30 pm
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You cannot make me do this work!

This class is dumb and you’re a jerk.

I will not hand in a single paper

You cannot make me do it later.

Hey, our report cards have arrived

HE FAILED ME? (insert dramatic sighs)

I hate this school!  Look at this report, see-

how all the teachers clearly hate me!

Don’t tell me that they can’t give credit

unless there’s work for them to edit.

Don’t tell me if I don’t show what I can do

then they have nothing to give them a clue.

None of this is my fault, you shrew!

I’m quitting school, so screw each and every one of you!

.

(This has terrible scansion.  I apologize)

 

poem- matchless October 15, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:53 pm
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“I want a wood fire,” she sighed.

“Go light a match on the porch,” he said,

“and never say I don’t support

your dreams.”

.

.

.

Oh, the sarcasm!  But since they don’t have a fireplace in their house, I guess this is the best that could be managed.

 

poem- amazing? October 14, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:45 am
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When you said my outfits are always amazing

did you mean they cause great surprise?

or that they leave you in wonder

or that you find them astonishing?

I’m not sure it’s good that you think I dress

in ways that are astonishing, astounding,

surprising, stunning, staggering, shocking,

startling, stupefying, breathtaking;

awesome, awe-inspiring, sensational,

remarkable, spectacular, stupendous,

phenomenal, extraordinary, incredible,

unbelievable; mind-blowing, jaw-dropping;

or wondrous.

Was your comment verbal irony?

or have I tipped the scales into weirdness?

I’m sure I’m not really so startlingly impressive.

But if you truly think so,

Thanks.

I guess.

.

.

.

Someone I admire made this comment at an event, and while I took it as a compliment, I pondered that one can disguise true opinion in the flexibilities of English!  What is irony but a twist of meaning?  With thanks to the Google dictionary for this one.

 

#Outlander poetry- Jamais etre pris vivant October 8, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:54 am
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Jamais être pris vivant,

for to be martyred to a great cause

is man’s greatest achievement;

a sacrifice of love,

so say the rolls of honour,

and the government never lies.

Jamais être pris vivant,

for to return from horror

is to revisit it in dreams,

to sacrifice freedom of mind

and peaceful sleep.

Jamais être pris vivant,

for the love waiting for you

will not tolerate your absence,

will battle with the darkness

will pull you into light.

Jamais être oublié vivant,

for a life embracing love

triumphs despite nightmares,

for hope defeats death.

.

.

I just finished viewing the whole 2nd half of Outlander season one today, and then flipped back to “The Watch.”  The French army toast “Never be taken alive!” seemed particularly poignant in light of Claire’s efforts to pull Jamie back from the brink, hence this poem.

 

poem-anxious sovereignty March 4, 2015

You and I are independent souls.

I move through the house;

You rest comfortably in contented sovereignty.

You do not need to dog my heels

to glorify each moment at my side

or expect me to worship at your feet.

You ignore me for hours,

sleeping in peaceful, self-sufficiency.

We are independent souls,

until the moment I step outside the door,

and calamity explodes in barks and whines.

It pants, scratches, and pees displeasure

at this, your desperate circumstance,

wailing at the injustice of loneliness,

vomiting up fathomless grief.

For the hours I am present, I do not exist;

for the hour I am absent, I make your world

a cavernous void.

Dog ironies

amid anxieties.

,

,

OJ is not doing well since Dusty went to the Rainbow Bridge.   We’ve tried swaddling as per Thundershirt.  We’ve got the Rescue Remedy.  He’s in his safe, contained space.  We fill the Kong with goodness.  Still the dog thinks the world is ending when I walk out the door.  Got any other suggestions?  Except a new dog companion.  Hubby imagines a dog-free household in our near future.  (I’m allergic to cats, so that’s not an option either).

 

 
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