Shawn L. Bird

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

poem-point of view May 5, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:39 am
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So often

what I think is a conversation about me

you think is a conversation about you.

My feelings

aren’t just feelings, they’re an attack.

But they’re not.

They belong to me

and they’re allowed to be

what they are.

I long for you to acknowledge

how I feel

what I wonder

what I want

isolated from your sense

of inadequacy.

I’m tired

tired

tired of your issue

always overshadowing

any of my concerns.

Mental illness

is annoyingly

narcissistic.

Please consider other points of view.

It isn’t always about you.

Really.

Sometimes it’s about me.

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poem-valediction September 16, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 4:26 pm
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She wakes to the empty house

searching room by room for traces.

Has he gone?

But surely before such a journey

there would some formal leave taking?

A kiss?

A note?

He slipped away without a word,

and she is left bereft,

wondering why he finds it so easy to leave her,

wondering if she’s been devalued like  Greek currency

or Bre-X stock.

No gold to mine after all.

Every couple crafts their own normal.

What’s familiar is what’s all right,

except when it’s not.

Being alone

Being lonely

There will always be too many cracks for

that broken pot to hold water;

it’s fine for bread,

though you

can’t live on bread alone.

Traces of something else,

gold veins of nourishment

are drawn with gestures

too easily forgotten,

so driving away is as simple a turning the key,

not as complicated as farewell.

 

 

 

poem-perhaps it is March 25, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:30 am
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Perhaps it is

some sort of survivor’s guilt

that the fractured fragments

the twisted tableaux of warped memories

those bêtes noires barely contained within your brain,

burst in sullen silence, tremulous terror, or

most disturbing, that  zombie calm

of a human automaton.

Perhaps it is

just chemistry asserting its superiority:

neuro-biology exposing itself

as a short-circuiting electric conduit

for daily conduct.

Perhaps it is

an allegory for transformation

or

perhaps it is

futility that demonstrates fallibility

and ultimately, profound humility.

 

poem-tenaciousness March 11, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:52 am
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He walks with a personal cloud

dulling his world, blurring his perceptions.

Walling him in, between tendrils of fog

freezing him in place to avoid falling off the precipice.

Her arms are open with devotion and she calls to him,

but her voice bounces off rocks and mist.

Their mutual affections miss each other

in the haze, but both are sincere and will still be there

when the fog lifts

(or he goes over the cliff).

 

 

poem- resourceful October 6, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:25 am
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I tied the sheets around the bedpost,

dropped out the window out of sight,

followed you down to the River Styx

with the water dark as night.

I leapt.  You bet.

I swam against the current

bumped against all those lost souls

but I was going to find you, and I did.

I tossed a coin to the boatman as he poled  along his way, I crawled into the boat

and I did say,

I told you

and I told you

and I told you.

I don’t care how black your night is

I don’t care how deep the pit

I will follow you and pull you back for air.

I will follow through the darkness

I will swim the River Styx

I will do it because that’s what marriage is.

It’s sticking when your hearts in little bits.

Kharon shrugs his shoulders, pulls us up to the next dock

He doesn’t care if we should choose to walk.

I wrap my arms around you and I drag you to the light,

because you’re too precious not to fight with all my might.

If I must be the strength then so be it,

let’s do what we can to make you fit,

I promised I’d be there for better or for worst

and Baby, I’m not driving with that hearse!

In sickness and in health, In poverty and wealth

I told you

and I told you

and I told you.

I don’t care how black your night is

I don’t care how deep the pit

I will follow you and pull you back for air.

I will follow through the darkness

I will swim the River Styx

I will do it because that’s what marriage is.

It’s sticking when your heart’s in little bits.

And I’m sticking so let’s hear no more of this.

I’m strong this time, and you’ll be fine

We all suffer those hits.

I’m strong this time, and you’ll be fine

in time.

In time.

In time.

In time, Baby you’ll be fine.

.

.

.

.

I had no idea what that was when the first lines came, but apparently it’s the lyrics to a country song about dealing with a spouse with depression.  Who knew!  

 

poem-twinkleless October 1, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:18 am
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Your lips are curled into a jack o’lantern smile

but there is no warmth in your face

because instead of flame behind your eyes,

there is a haunted house.

 

poem-leave September 25, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:57 am
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The dog pulls you down the street.

Your eyes are hazy,

Your hair is wild.

Your beard’s unkempt.

Your steps thud awkwardly like you’ve forgotten how to walk.

If the outside reflects the inside,

you definitely need some time

to regain your health again.

 

 
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