She studies his torso,
surveys lines and curves,
tracks
sinews
. and
. flesh,
melts,
wishes she was butter:
s p r e a d o u t ,
simmering,
glistening
in those crevices,
turning into warm caramel
within his embrace.
poem- leaving October 9, 2015
The sky is dappled with gold
glistening spots carried in the breeze,
waltzing with the wind,
raining down upon me,
autumn leaves.
#Outlander poetry- Jamais etre pris vivant October 8, 2015
Jamais être pris vivant,
for to be martyred to a great cause
is man’s greatest achievement;
a sacrifice of love,
so say the rolls of honour,
and the government never lies.
Jamais être pris vivant,
for to return from horror
is to revisit it in dreams,
to sacrifice freedom of mind
and peaceful sleep.
Jamais être pris vivant,
for the love waiting for you
will not tolerate your absence,
will battle with the darkness
will pull you into light.
Jamais être oublié vivant,
for a life embracing love
triumphs despite nightmares,
for hope defeats death.
.
.
I just finished viewing the whole 2nd half of Outlander season one today, and then flipped back to “The Watch.” The French army toast “Never be taken alive!” seemed particularly poignant in light of Claire’s efforts to pull Jamie back from the brink, hence this poem.
poem- I’ll remember October 7, 2015
There’s a string around my finger.
The groceries are bought.
The mail is collected.
The birthday cards are mailed.
The appointments are made.
The kids are picked up.
Nothing’s forgotten.
There’s a string ’round my finger
for remembering you.
poem-hat October 5, 2015
If you’re going to go out in public
with your hair a disaster,
and tell me it’s okay, because you’re wearing a hat,
could you please wear a fedora or a bowler?
Something with a little panache?
A Homburg or a Panama, perhaps?
Anything but a ball cap? Because you don’t play ball,
and I don’t believe in capping potential.
.
.
He needs to spend some time at Goorin Brothers Hat Shop…
poem- sliced 2 October 2, 2015
I was numb,
but I felt the gentle line you drew
across my skin, blade slicing deep.
You stretched me open,
revealed my patched bones,
unscrewed the metal holding me together.
Oh, you sewed me back together,
taped over the black sutures,
and here I lie, propped up against realities,
hoping for the best.
.
.
.
It sounds so lovely and metaphorical, but it’s literal. 🙂 Successful surgery this week to remove the plates and screws that repaired my broken fibula last January. The screws were working out on their own and causing a fair bit of pain. Looking forward to returning to regular, pain-free mobility very soon!
poem-twinkleless October 1, 2015
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-promise September 29, 2015
Those childish promises
made with fervent belief
prove the power of intention:
Fealty sworn with hooked pinkies
in confident conviction.
poem-glow September 28, 2015
You rise, a blood red orb,
taunting star-gazers as you
cover your face behind a grey blanket.
poem-temptation September 27, 2015
Your chocolate eyes are caramel today
I want to savour your gaze,
feel its sweetness
against the bitter cocoa bite,
butterscotch touch upon my tongue
your vision devouring me in turn.
Shawn L. Bird 