Shawn L. Bird

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

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.

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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.

 

poem- indeed December 21, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 4:19 pm
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Indeed,

there is a moment

when hushed memories sneak,

creeping behind you.

You hear the creak, and turn

to find those lost

those missed,

those grieved.

They’re whispers caught

on remembered phrases,

favourite songs;

you’re sure you hear their voices.

Indeed, there are moments

when ghosts hover;

in memories

their love remains.

 

 

poem-nudge December 6, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:45 pm
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Of course.

I will.

I say it.

I mean it.

But.

Squirrel!

Remind me,

I say.

I mean it.

Of course,

I will.

I mean it.

I will.

Oh, right,

I forgot.

.

.

.

Sometimes, our good intentions get lost in our busyness!  How many times have I told people to remind me what I’ve agreed to do for them, because I will likely forget, despite my willingness?  I’ve got a memory like a sieve, despite my best intentions.  Does this happen to you, too?  How awkward is it to make the nudging calls or send the nudging message?  Will you nudge, or do you presume the person really doesn’t want to do it?  I worry people think I don’t mean it when I ask them to remind me.  

 

 

poem- honey December 2, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 4:11 pm
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Sculpting honey?

Pointless.

Shapes dissolve in moments,

dissappear in the gleaming

sweetness of now–

much like

memories

of you.

 

 
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