Shawn L. Bird

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

poem- seen and not heard January 22, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:41 am
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Murmuring voices

racing around me, vacuum engine growl,

white noise.

Words without meaning.

Sound without sense.

There you are.

Your mouth moves,

but I can not hear you

anymore.

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poem- him December 14, 2018

Yes, there is laughter;

I see it sparkling in those eyes,

twinkling in the crevices of his face.

I see it dancing,

in those jaunty steps,

off-kilter, long-legged ramblings.

I see it in the shaking shoulders,

heaving joy, hard embraces.

There is laughter through that body,

whether we hear it

or not.

 

 

poem- drifting December 10, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:09 am
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Snow flakes drift by,

washing the world white.

Cold drips down my neck,

scarf scratching,

steps slipping,

breath billows in small clouds,

miniature factories.

Trudge through the flakes

filling the sky,

painting a picture of

a world wiped clean.

 

 

 

poem- no fantasy? no romance? December 1, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:21 pm
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It is so sad

that you eschew fantasy and romance in your world.

Without fantasy, where is imagination? Where is spark? Where is possibility?

Without romance, where is connection? Where is life? Where is compatibility?

You, ‘realist’ are deluded.

Facing reality means seeing above, below, beyond, and through.

Recognizing the power of the metaphor.

Feeling the electricity of a touch, when your love has gone.

Celebrating what may be.

It means believing in hope.

A realist is a dead shell lapped upon the beach,

while a great ocean signs beside it and carries whales

and sailing ships off over the horizon.

You can still be sensible,

and see the magic of the world.

 

poem-falling November 21, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:52 pm
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Snow is falling by the window:

down,

slanted,

sideways,

sparsely,

heavily,

quickly,

slowly.

Everything is possible;

you don’t need to know.

Just rest at the window,

watch the snow.

 

 

poem- being Charlie Brown November 19, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 6:05 pm
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The football is set, with enthusiastic support,

This is going to be such a great help!

But instead of the football being held at the perfect angle for the kick that sends it through the goal posts,

Lucy has snatched it up again.  She shrugs.

You wanted to kick for THIS game?

Oh no! The game you get to kick for is three months from now!

Just hold your foot up until then, will you?

 

poem- tricks November 18, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:45 am
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This time

I’m walking forward and you are beside me,

four paws padding along,

wet nose nudging my palm now and again,

assuring me you’re there.

This time

I waken to the whining cries

of someone small who is not you,

blessed and depressed.

Time tricks,

I see your silhouette,

hear a gentle woof on the wind,

look around knowing it’s not,

wishing it was.

Now, time

reminds me that life is a tapesty.

Joys are woven in the warp;

we weave grief in the weft,

dark streaks that might be tears,

alongside the lemon-bright thread of laughter.

This time,

I’m grateful to wrap myself tight

in the memories of you. Grateful

as I go about another day.

 

 

 
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