Shawn L. Bird

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

poem-dust October 29, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:50 am
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Dust is sparked:

becomes a miracle

of tears and laughter,

a long journey back

to dust.

 

poem- balance October 28, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:37 pm
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Life is balanced

on a pinpoint.

Home, food, health, connections, work, meaning

sway precariously.

If one is pulled,

all is impacted:

Rocks and

Tips.

.

.

.

I’m thinking today of an extended family member who was in a serious car accident recently.  One moment, all is well, the next some guy isn’t watching the road, jumps a meridian, and you’re in emergency.  If you’re sole support, and you’re off work for a year of recovery, how does that impact everyone around you?

 

poem- I’ll remember October 7, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:01 am
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There’s a string around my finger.

The groceries are bought.

The mail is collected.

The birthday cards are mailed.

The appointments are made.

The kids are picked up.

Nothing’s forgotten.

There’s a string ’round my finger

for remembering you.

 

 

poem- sliced 2 October 2, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:48 am
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I was numb,

but I felt the gentle line you drew

across my skin, blade slicing deep.

You stretched me open,

revealed my patched bones,

unscrewed the metal holding me together.

Oh, you sewed me back together,

taped over the black sutures,

and here I lie, propped up against realities,

hoping for the best.

.

.

.

It sounds so lovely and metaphorical, but it’s literal.  🙂 Successful surgery this week to remove the plates and screws that repaired my broken fibula last January.  The screws were working out on their own and causing a fair bit of pain.  Looking forward to returning to regular, pain-free mobility very soon!

 

poem-vampire August 25, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:19 pm
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I hadn’t noticed before, but you’re a vampire.

You charm people, but when they get close to you

you suck the life out of them.

A succubus eating through relationships,

and now you’re clinging to that child

as a tool to make that old man stay

while you drain him, too.

I’m glad some of them got away.

 

poem- Jenga January 9, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 4:34 am
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Our lives are Jenga towers:

intricate stacks of circumstance

that in a moment can

collapse around us.

.

 

poem- hockey players November 23, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:28 pm
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One by one

the hockey players walked past

assorted young men in suits

older men in team jackets

family and friends trailing behind.

The Chicago Blackhawks lost to

the Vancouver Canucks tonight.

There was no celebration in the lobby

as they filed by.

Some people were excited,

but since I don’t watch hockey,

they didn’t impress me.

They were just well dressed young men,

less well dressed older men

and dejected friends and family,

hanging out in the hotel.

 

poem- were November 1, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:37 pm
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It was woven

like light

dappling between the leaves

of our maple tree,

your voice, soft in memory,

searching for the heart of me.

 

It was woven

like lithe

subtleties between the grease

of our maigre feast,

your voice, lost in murmurings

purging forth our history.

 

It was woven

like life

sampling between the griefs

of our marble stele

your voice, wafts in every

yearning it exhorts of me.

.

.

I may be stretching your vocabulary with this one!  Here’s some help:

maigre- religious diet without the flesh or juice of animals

stele- pillar, marker, tombstone (pron. like STEEL-y)

 

poem-lost gift July 25, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:50 pm
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Family and friends

gather for funeral to

tell stories:

laughter

tears

admiration

appreciation.

I hope she knew

she touched this many.

that they’d have to

bring in extra chairs,

though she was a newcomer

to this community.

When cancer is found,

why not call everyone

to celebrate the life

while the body is there to hear?

Why not send her off for chemo

with these stories of love,

respect, and support?

Why wait to gather

when she’s not here

to receive the blessing?

.

.

.

Memorial today, packed house to celebrate Auntie Linda.  I just kept wishing she’d been here to know how many lives she’d touched.  

I was reminded of a send off my friend had for her husband when he was heading south for radiation, bone marrow transplant, etc.  Relatives came from afar, friends packed the building.  We sang, we told stories, we laughed, we sent him off with blessings for his young family, knowing in his heart how he’d inspired people.  When he passed away a few months later, we gathered  all again with sadder hearts, but that time together lifting him up has stayed with me as a very precious occasion to support a young family in a time of tragedy.

 

 

 

 

poem- blood February 5, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:22 pm
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She smells the metallic tang

iron

copper

inhales the essence

life

death

dreams the future

rock

paper

scissors

blood.

.

 

 
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