If I could
see you once again
I’d hold you tightly,
memorize the sensation
of your arms,
inhale the scent of your hair,
squeeze my love into your bones,
and pray the moment
does not end.
poem-there August 9, 2014
There
in that alley
was the beginning
of dreams
of possibility
of wishes.
There
in that alley
was where imagining
became the tool
for all that was to be.
There
in that alley
was the first place
I was me.
poem-lampstand August 6, 2014
I walk through my
childhood neighbourhood.
Just because,
I lean against the lamp post
I held up every morning
in grade seven
as I waited for the bus.
Different weather
but always too
early in the morning.
More rusty,
it hummed
a greeting
remembering
(or maybe
that was me).
poem-lily August 2, 2014
The scent
wound around the room
burrowed up the nostrils
and drained out eyes.
Set away
from sensitive noses
the lily’s petals have fallen
and still its heavy scent
fills the heated air,
present in death,
like warm memories
of you.
poem-when July 31, 2014
It was a moment,
a frozen smile
caught forever.
A photograph
recording you
as I longed for
you to be.
A moment when
happiness pushed
away illness and
illuminated
all our dreams
poem-time July 20, 2014
I remember you: new
baby powder smell
tiny ears like velvet
cries like a lamb
and here is your
baby daughter
in my arms.
poem- time travelling July 6, 2014
For my eighteenth birthday
He wrote me a song.
Flutes and strings danced
in my honour,
a musical farewell,
recorded on cassette.
I filled the rest of the tape
with a treasury of captured moments:
His playing, my laughter,
melancholy dreams.
All synthesized on
The Lost Tape.
.
Years of wondering where it went.
.
Today. My birthday
I picked up an empty cassette case,
and it was not empty.
The case showed my face,
listed harp tunes by me, but inside
not me:
Ancient history.
A birthday present
from eighteen year old me
to middle-aged me,
magnetic taped
memories,
for time-travelling.
..
.
I feel inclined to add a photo, which I probably will remove later, so enjoy it while it’s here. The composer of the song, compiler of the cassette, my grad escort. Me at 18. (I had just been swimming, excuse the hair). 😉
poem- nerves July 3, 2014
When
You sat beside me
I couldn’t find the gears
on this car I drive every day.
Your half drunk bottle of water
has become the holy relic in a
smile bestowing, mobile shrine
to your presence next
to me.
poem-then July 2, 2014
The dorm rang with
youthful enthusiasm.
We were learning to live,
expanding our limits,
and searching for a future.
So many years
and you are different
and the same.
We’re still learning,
expanding our limits,
contemplating our journeys,
and the next turn of the road.
.
.
.
Had a nice visit with folks I attended college with thirty years ago. So much is different, but so much remains the same whenever you meet old friends, doesn’t it? (It’s that ‘time has pleats’ thing again!)
poem- grandma June 28, 2014
I have lost her words
The narrative spun away
across the void of time.
I no longer hear her voice
echoing through my mind.
But here
a grocery list
a flash of history
Though mostly she is lost
to time and left
a mystery.
Shawn L. Bird 