The scent of dinner,
Your favourite,
brings you back to life,
calls you from beyond
in a gush of anguish.
Oh, I long to look
into your sparkling eyes,
and serve you soup.
poem- guessing May 2, 2016
I guess
I should remember
the curve of your cheek
the reach of your arms
the pitch of your voice.
I remember
the imprint of your fingers
against my thigh, rising scarlet.
I remember
the strident screech
that foretold your speeches
about the unfairness of life.
I remember
the flash of your eyes
the thud of the door
being poor.
I guess
I remember
you.
.
.
(FYI- written in persona)
poem-camera March 17, 2016
I freeze your image
Carve you in my memory
Gaze fondly from the future
Back to today.
poem-ostrich day March 4, 2016
I am overwhelmed
by my responsibilities
and the weight of my grief
that creeps up unexpectedly
to undermine my clarity
to bury me with memories
and underscore my sense of loss.
I’ll hide myself from Helios: find
some sand to stick my head beneath.
poem-one rose February 14, 2016
I remember
the busy university campus
where you bought a single rose for your new wife
to celebrate our first
Valentine’s Day.
And all the years that followed,
when I just got out my silk roses,
arranged them in a vase, and people
presumed they were from you
and that they were real.
I let you get the credit.
We’re cheap in our old age,
and resigned.
poem- rockery January 29, 2016
We played in the rockery
and you always skinned your knees
because adventure was so much better than caution,
and my mother wasn’t likely to smack you
for disturbing the hen and chicks blooming
in the crevices.
poem-scent January 27, 2016
Your sweater is here
and if I breathe deeply enough
I’m in the scent of your embrace.
poem-sweet January 26, 2016
It’s unexpected moments
that honey drip from yesterday
crystalizing through today
and crunching in cubes tomorrow.
Sometimes bitter,
mostly sweet.
poem-vacant January 19, 2016
How strange
that this space that was always filled by you
is vacant now.
Some time,
I don’t know when,
you stopped paying rent and disappeared.
Now the corner where you lived
has fallen into disrepair
and when I look for what used to be
I see only
moldy fragments in the space
that was yours.
poem-exorcise December 23, 2015
Pen strokes
Keyboard strikes
Ghosts exorcised by words;
Freedom found from phantoms.
New worlds
opened for exploration.
Shawn L. Bird 