Shawn L. Bird

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

poem- warrior woman September 30, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:49 pm
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Warrior,

stands, raised hand

answer every question

to bring justice to a depraved land.

Warrior stands

warning of the beast eager to devour.

tells how it mauled,

and it whines, growls, evades

responsibility.

The beast does not know it is a beast,

but the warrior knows.

The warrior warns.

As the beast prowls and pretends

to be a kitten, a puppy, an innocent thing.

The warrior knows.

The warriors know.

Are you listening?

Or will you open doors and invite it

to devour you?

 

 

poem-what has changed September 29, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:25 pm
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Since “me, too!” has spread,

What has changed

is that I see you differently.

I see me differently.

I hear, “She does that stuff; I’m working”

and I’m filled with fury at yet another man

who does not see what work is,

how everything he is able to do

is because his wife carries him on her back.

and I say, enough.

If we are going to be beasts of burden,

let us be more than mules with bits in our mouths.

Let us be more.

Let us be the partner who is heard.

Let the children be his concern as often as they’re ours.

Let the pink jobs and blue jobs become purple jobs

as they swirl in a kaleidoscope of

our jobs.

Our mutual obligations.

I’m glad you do the laundry and clean the kitchen,

because I hate those jobs.

Thank you for agreeing that poetry

and winding words are more important than dusting.

When your words reflect a patriarchy, I will remind you

who I am.

When my words cut, you may wrap your arms around me

and remind me that you have feelings, too.

Let’s stand as role models that being a man does not give

you rights over anyone else,

anyone else,

anyone.

Listen men, to what she says.

Keep your hands to yourself

(and other pokey bits, too).

If she says no,

Channel your unwanted urges

into art.  Wash them away in

cold showers of reality.

Let your futile frustration seethe

like generations of women seethed.

What has changed, boys?

The very air you breathe.

 

 

 
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