Shawn L. Bird

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

poem- tossing April 4, 2019

Filed under: Poetry,poodles — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:24 am
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I toss.

You race.

You leap.

You flip.

You pant.

You return

on a joy-fueled frenzy

for the fun of the chase.

To vicariously share your bliss,

I toss.

.

.

(Just in from a supremely athletic game of fetch- with a Chuckit Flying Squirrel. Now a happily exhausted poodle is at my feet.  I once saw a Ziggy cartoon that said he just wanted to go to dog heaven and toss balls for eternity. I sometimes feel like that is already my prime raison d’etre according to Kiltti!  How about you? Do you play a lot of fetch?).  

 

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poem- profile then & now January 12, 2019

Filed under: Friendship,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:12 pm
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(for Nikki)

.

I see joy.

See how you have expanded

until you’re exploding with all

that you’d held tightly

contained, buttoned up?

I see confidence.

See how what was timid

and tentative

now twinkles with the knowing

that you are amazing?

I am so proud

of who you’ve made,

you.

 

poem- him December 14, 2018

Yes, there is laughter;

I see it sparkling in those eyes,

twinkling in the crevices of his face.

I see it dancing,

in those jaunty steps,

off-kilter, long-legged ramblings.

I see it in the shaking shoulders,

heaving joy, hard embraces.

There is laughter through that body,

whether we hear it

or not.

 

 

poem- no fantasy? no romance? December 1, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:21 pm
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It is so sad

that you eschew fantasy and romance in your world.

Without fantasy, where is imagination? Where is spark? Where is possibility?

Without romance, where is connection? Where is life? Where is compatibility?

You, ‘realist’ are deluded.

Facing reality means seeing above, below, beyond, and through.

Recognizing the power of the metaphor.

Feeling the electricity of a touch, when your love has gone.

Celebrating what may be.

It means believing in hope.

A realist is a dead shell lapped upon the beach,

while a great ocean signs beside it and carries whales

and sailing ships off over the horizon.

You can still be sensible,

and see the magic of the world.

 

poem-reality June 21, 2017

Eventually

Reality has to intervene.

You’re not destined for the NHL

Or the corps de ballet

Your voice will not sell

A million records.

Simon sends you packing.

 

Reality can suck.

But if playing hockey

Brings you happiness

Why stop just because you’ll never hoist the Stanley Cup?

Dance like nobody’s watching

Sing until you’re smiling.

 

Don’t let reality rob you of the joy

Of the activity itself.

The rush of a beautiful pass and goal.

The beauty of a perfectly formed pirouette.

The harmony than hums in your ear.

Celebrate those moments for ten thousand hours.

 

They say ten thousand hours yields excellence.

Perhaps you’ll need twenty.

Or thirty.

Embrace the joy.

Share in a community of like minds.

Perhaps after forty thousand hours

Your reality will change

And if it doesn’t,

At least you’ll nurture your soul.

Like reality,

Success has many faces.

 

poem-pebble July 10, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 4:09 pm
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I am but one pebble on the beach of your memory,

but oh how I remember the tides of you,

lapping across the surface of me,

making me shine for a moment,

glinting in the sunlight refracted by your ripples,

toppling me in your surf, ’til I clattered like applause

as you went back out to sea.

 

 

poem- light December 4, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 7:35 am
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She is light.

She glows with gentle radiance

that touches everyone she meets with her warmth.

She is peace.

In her calm presence you are comforted

simply by being near her serene heart.

She is whole.

She does not need anything from anyone,

for she has found the font of her strength within herself.

She is love.

 

 
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