Lasting smile
lingering
memory.
You and I
lakeside walks
sunset dreams.
What once was:
happiness.
Now a void.
.
A tricube: 3 stanzas of 3 lines with 3 syllables each.
poem-before your death September 3, 2022
poem- Daddy’s sweater December 17, 2021
I am zipped up in Daddy’s green sweater.
Mom knitted, purled, cabled together
some semblance of love.
He wore it with joy almost every day,
telling all admirers how it was made with love.
It’s wrapped around me,
but it’s not his firm arms,
not his smell (which wasn’t peppermint
or aftershave, but just him),
not his whisper in my ears,
Love you so much.
How can another year have past
without him? How can a sweater
be both so full
and so bereft of him?
poem-releasing June 10, 2021
I heard your name
calling to me from long ago.
I heard your name,
(Oh, that melancholy refrain!)
whispering words so soft and low,
memories I need to let go.
I heard your name.
This poetry form is called a ‘rondelet’ and plays with an A/B rhyme, lines of 4/8 syllables, and a repeated refrain (as you can see!).
poem-spring? March 28, 2021
Geese call
mournful fly past.
The year is reborn
Why does my heart
hear autumn’s sorrow?
poem-forgotten day November 6, 2020
To write a poem each day
requires a better memory than I have
A hole in the calendar.
An attempt at restitution.
Something
is not always better
than nothing.
poem-rainy reminders October 11, 2020
Something is missing from my life:
the crack of the ax
winter’s firewood piled high
wood smoke rising from a chimney
the snapping from the grate
heat sinking into the bones
live fire, primordial comfort,
on a cold night, its golden, spitting light
shadow painting a picture of all we
require.
poem-siren call September 3, 2020
It used to be
a howling ambulance
made me hold my breath
waiting to hear if it flew to you.
Now you’re past their aid,
so I send a blessing
to the stranger in need
and into the sky in memory
of you
poem- Father’s Day June 21, 2020
My father’s ashes are beside me. Once
Every day was Father’s Day,
Now every day he’s absent,
But every day he’s here.
Love never dies.
Devotion binds fond memories;
so long as we remember him,
it’s always Father’s Day.
poem- around the world April 6, 2020
I’m on a site celebrating my adopted culture
when someone asks which of us were exchange students.
Suddenly there are 50 comments:
their years, their homes, their hosts.
Someone writes to me from Australia,
“We were there at the same time. I wonder if we met?”
Imagine that.
A virtual rendez-vous decades later.
A tiny marble, this globe; we can
almost hold it in our hands.
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.
Shawn L. Bird 