The crows auk auk their condolences
The finch assures that life goes on.
My mother is now spirit in the breeze,
(or the stiff head-wind,
’cause she was stubborn like that).
poem- crossing over February 14, 2020
(A cascade poem)
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I waited for you
wishing for a miracle
on that long night
so long ago, and yet
I live in that moment still;
I waited for you,
holding your hand,
counting your breaths
wishing for a miracle.
Hospital bed,
The click of knitting needles,
on that long night.
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The form of a cascade is to create a free verse first stanza, and then repeat subsequent lines of that first stanza at the ends of the following stanzas, cascading the lines from the first stanza throughout the poem. This form was created by Udit Bhatia.
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FWIW- we did get the miracle, and four more years.
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(Ignore the WordPress added ads.)
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poem- baking tomorrow November 22, 2019
She is gone
traditions will be different in her absence
I am a poor substitute.
May our Christmas cookies
and your memories
be sweet.
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poem-living September 20, 2019
You drive away after a visit.
“He got his licence back!”
“That’s great for 101!”
“No! He’s 105 now!”
“and blind!”
Oh, dad.
Thanks for stopping by
to make me laugh
in dreams.
poem- light July 11, 2019
Your smile has no illumination,
no dancing twinkle draws the eyes.
What lies will you tell today, when someone
asks if everything is okay?
poem- later July 10, 2019
I expected
in my youth
a natural ending.
You railed against presumption.
Never!
Always!
Hyperbole spun us out,
Now our orbits can’t intersect.
I was okay with that,
until I wasn’t.
We’re not supposed to break promises,
even irrelevant ones.
Curse nostalgia.
poem- didn’t say July 9, 2019
He didn’t say it.
Not on the day
or the day after, when he used to remember.
No more embers. glowing.
Not hanging on the threads anymore, I just realized.
How strange when forever
truly dies.
Poem-Plumbing Depths June 14, 2019
This well is dank and dark,
Though they have promised from the depths
She will see stars,
so far, it’s darkness all around.
She only feels
a giant on her chest squeezing
joy, until tears squish dripping out.
She’ll fill this well with grief;
the only escape may be
floating on surface sorrow
until it floods over the wall
with all the sadness she can carry.
poem-another day May 12, 2019
Reverberating agony
extruding writhing beasts
into the world.
Succubi at the breast,
wails in the night.
Small shrieking terrors
racing up corridors, escaping
in department stores.
Feed them. Mind them. Hold them.
Love them. Drive them.
Pimple popping, attitude rocking,
trouble stalking.
Feed them. Love them. Release them.
Celebrate them.
Wait for them.
Wonder what
went
wrong.
poem- Worshipping anger April 15, 2019
Your pain bursts out the barrel of a gun
punches holes through community
explodes small town security.
Neutrality’s a liar.
And in world news:
Notre-Dame Cathedral is on fire.
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My own photo, detail around the main entrance of Notre-Dame. Paris, 2011.
My own photo. Notre-Dame tower details. Paris. 2010
A poem should stand on its own merits, but I feel like a bit of clarification this time. There was a shooting in my small, Canadian town yesterday. Two people were shot in their church; one died. Our community has been reeling from this shock, and now another tragedy. The loss of life. The loss of a building. Can you compare the two?
Shawn L. Bird 