Shawn L. Bird

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

poem-unrecognizable January 24, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:06 pm
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You don’t even look like

the person I used to know, any more

I don’t know what’s happened.

Did you get taller somehow?



We don’t do that

when we’re this age.


poem-promise September 29, 2015

Those childish promises

made with fervent belief

prove the power of intention:

Fealty sworn with hooked pinkies

in confident conviction.


poem-flames February 7, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:52 pm
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She’s caught between the flames

of inferno and ice

Accusations of blame,

of who’s not playing nice.

She’s caught between the fury

of defeat and aggression,

For neither is sorry

and all leads to depression.

She’s caught between love

crushed between hate

a magician’s dove

that is stuffed then must wait.

She’s caught between threads

stuffed up their sleeves

’til she’s dangling her head

beneath the nearest trees.



poem- silent November 13, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:42 pm
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You sit


staring  at your lap.

Your face

reflects sorrows

you will not describe.


is your

only safe



poem-listening October 12, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:37 pm
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Last night,

screeching tires,

spinning in the intersection

racing engines roaring up

and down our hill

Luckily no catastrophe

except the community




(an irony- post 1-666 about local hellions!)


poem-smells like teen spirit June 6, 2014

Filed under: Poetry,Teaching — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:34 am
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In response to my comment

she gives me a look

like I am covered with manure

and am suggesting she join me

wallowing in a pig pen.

Nose flared, forehead creased,

like she has scented

something foul, she raises a brow

and turns away with a scowl,

still here in body, but not in spirit,

while her friends chatter and giggle

pleasantly with me.


video- wonderful start to Christmas November 24, 2013

Filed under: fun,video — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:26 pm
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This is absolutely delightful.  Florence Baptist Temple in Burlington, Kentucky, USA sure put on a great show for their Singing Christmas Tree! These young men are quite awesome.  In honour of the beginning of the Christmas season: Enjoy!



poem- lesser children September 21, 2013

Filed under: Poetry,Teaching — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:15 am
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For Max


They come

each year

the lesser children:











You look upon each one

and tell him

he is more

she is more

Be the best


you are the best!

You say it

and you mean it

and bit by bit

what was lesser


and they believe

they are more

than their weaknesses

they are more

than society’s expectation

they are more

than their labels

They drink your words

lips tightly closed at first

but sip by sip they are filled

until they swim in the belief

that they can


their best.

They leave



Because you


they are.


Mothers’ tears April 20, 2013

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:36 pm
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make your

mother cry.



bring tears

to her eye.



force a

melancholy sigh



make her

sacrifices lie.



make your

mother cry.


she’s blessed,

and tears are joy

wept dry.


interviews & changing times September 27, 2012

Filed under: Pondering — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:41 am
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Today a group of my students were interviewed for an upcoming documentary about living in a small town.  It was interesting to hear their feedback after the experience.  They wondered if the interviewer was trying too hard to ‘connect with the youth of today’ by “dropping f-bombs in every sentence” and telling them that she and her friends had taken acid in the 90s.  They weren’t impressed.

In the staff room the other day, we were commenting about the kids in the smoke pit.  At our school, it is an area about eight feet square, marked by cement barricades a couple of feet high off to the side of our entry, just outside of the parking lot (and therefore, presumably not technically ‘on school grounds’).  There are maybe a dozen kids who hang out there off and on over the course of the day, though I’ve never seen more than six at any one time.  There are around five hundred students at our school.  The teachers were discussing how ‘once upon a time’ the smoke pit was packed, and it was full of cool kids.  Now, the kids in the smoke pit are the losers, generally looked at with disdain by the other kids.

I can remember teaching in Prince George, where probably a hundred kids stood in minus twenty, being cool, and smoking.  Once, they watched a moose wander past, and then get shot by conservation officers.  The smoking area was always lively and crowded, murdered moose, not withstanding.

Not these days.  It seems that kids are getting the message about healthy living.  They smoke less than their parents and grand-parents.   Since according to experts in the workshops attended by my ex-social worker spouse, the real ‘gateway drug’ is tobacco, does this decrease of activity at the smoke pit mean kids are less likely to graduate to harder drugs, and therefore less likely to find themselves popping acid by the train tracks like the interviewer, who’d attended this school a decade ago?

I don’t know, but I hope so.  I’m really happy they weren’t impressed by her stories and foul language.  Whoever says youth are getting worse isn’t keeping their eyes open.  Personally, I like what I see.


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