Diva Winter grips
her sequined white cloak. Clinging,
while we wish for Spring.
haiku-still March 12, 2018
Diva Winter grips
her sequined white cloak. Clinging,
while we wish for Spring.
poem- breaking March 9, 2018
For Danielle, with love
.
Breaking heart
Taking future
Making mockery
I doubt the happy start,
wrapped in a painful ending,
rending all I believed,
feeling deceived
by the life we’d conceived.
Paths onward wending,
sending me,
setting me free.
Taking me,
creating me,
letting me
be,
Breaking past,
Taking a stance,
Making me dance.
poem- sheets February 11, 2018
The sheets are clean,
fresh outside,
brought in,
crisp newness,
start again.
Wait for you,
to dint the pillow,
breathe deeply in sleep,
inhale promise,
clean sheets.
poem-flying February 8, 2018
Fleance dreams of flight,
soaring on outstretching wings
into a moonlit night,
No day trips for him, he’s heard things
about flying too near the sun.
Day is for escape, for climbing,
Peaks ascending, journeys begun,
At sunset (it’s all about the timing)
he leaps into red glowing,
falls on moon rise
spreads his wings, catches winds flowing
embraces skies,
Wonders at all he does espy
and murmurs “Fly, Good Fleance! Fly!”
poem-interpretation February 6, 2018
The Lord of All Knowledge,
Gatekeeper of Truth,
says the poem means this.
Generations of readers bow
before this wisdom,
even though they don’t see it,
can’t believe it,
they just accept it.
When the poet reads
the critic’s piece,
she laughs and laughs
at the irony of such arrogant
assumptions!
Oh, student!
Good reader!
There are no errors
of interpretation in poetry!
Your experiences show you a meaning,
and if you can find lines to support,
your responses are just as valid as any critic’s.
(So the famous poet said to me,
and he should know).
poem- December 24, 2017
Some of us
have more to contain
to be little rays of sunshine,
day to day,
but that doesn’t mean
it doesn’t do us more good
to be sunshine
than for us to complain
about our rain.
poem- indeed December 21, 2017
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- roots December 19, 2017
And what of you?
Do dark mornings creep around your heart
Reaching through night
Pushing past sight to wrap you tightly
In tomorrow?
What of you?
Your lonely walk, your feet tapping
On cobblestones in ancestral towns,
tripping on the roots of the family tree;
calamity or peace?
I see the dream
That’s you.
poem-yoga in real life December 18, 2017
You are twisted in knots
pulled here, there, everywhere,
responsibilities,
avoiding hostilities,
paying utilities,
cleaning facilities.
You are wound tight
tossed left and right
crushed under mighty
feet, but step into this
darkened space
seek solace from the thoughts
that race,
trace peace.
Surcease.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Release.
.
.
for Lorien
poem- creak December 14, 2017
Creak
Cracks
Broken
Backs
Strung on a rack
Creaking wheel
pulls spine taut
Entreats,
“Sweet mercy!”
Greets pain
Back
broken
cracks
creak.
Shawn L. Bird 