Shawn L. Bird

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

poem-living September 20, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:38 pm
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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- I remember February 22, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:26 am
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Some prompt poetry today:

.

I remember

yellow days,

sun bright on daffodil hills,

air stained with smokey forest pyres,

golden nights.

I remember

empty room,

first promise you failed,

fear.

I remember

twinkling eyes

hope

belief in forever.

I remember

.

.

.

Prompts from my 123 prompts for Writers & Poets book, a yellow day, a moment that scarred you, someone you value.

 

poem-flashes February 8, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:26 pm
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I’ve forgotten your name,

but one glance at the back of a pear-shaped girl

in a tight striped top and jeans,

brought you sailing through the years.

Short, feathered hair.

Acne scars.

Knock-kneed shuffle.

Booming laugh.

Where did I know you?

Whoever you are,

I hope you’re happy today.

I hope your life has been all you dreamed.

 

poem- flash December 31, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:11 am
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Just like that

you were back.

A flash.

Years had disappeared.

Your hair glistened in the light of the theatre,

our laughter and the crunch of popcorn on the air.

A flash.

Grief seeped through me,

sucking me back to the day they said

you were gone.

.

.

RIP Lloyd. 1964-1997 No one is truly dead until they are not remembered any more.

 

poem- hockey night at our house April 20, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 4:44 pm
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I turn on the TV:
Hockey commentary.
I am ten again.
Dad’s in the family room.
Whooping
Groaning
Arguing with the ref.
I feel a rush of nostalgia.
Turn the channel.

 

poem-next April 8, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:30 am
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This moonlit night,

snow glowing with

luminescent memories,

I stroll along the old paths

thinking of the mystery you

made of me.

Identity molded like play dough

childhood laughter

leaching from the cracks of yesterday.

I can’t say anymore

who I am.

.

(another character perspective poem about Lydia & Dustin)

 

 

poem-boxes January 9, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:20 pm
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Boxed up

memories, wrapped carefully

in torn tissue paper,

worn over years.

Boxed up

histories, revisited annually-

unwrapping melancholy,

tying it on a tree.

 

 
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