Four lanes of traffic gush past
the single stunted sunflower
stretching through a cleft in the pavement,
blooming in adversity.
poem-simmering September 1, 2015
Your disapproval simmers,
irritation bursting in exclamatory bubbles,
mutter, mutter, mutter
like a lid bouncing on a pot.
haiku storm August 31, 2015
rippling waves
sparkling with emerald, peridot, citrine
storm tossed tree.
poem-listening August 27, 2015
Hush.
The evening chorus:
Frogs throat singing
with susurrating trees
Summer serenade.
poem-down August 22, 2015
I’m upside down
and it makes me dizzy
how so many years later
you can still do this to me.
I’m upside down
inside out and backwards
breathing like I’ve run a marathon
like you’ve decrypted my password.
I’m upside down
like I’m on a circus trapeze
another day with you, our love
is full of moments like these.
poem-ending? August 18, 2015
This ending
is just another circle.
Your smile is a segment of arc
in my eternity.
poem-glacier death
The rocky mountain tops used to cradle winter.
Bowls of ice, white blankets, held in stone arms
comfort over centuries.
A decade of cataracts, dripped.
Now, monolithic arms are empty,
so even ancient glacier tears are dry.
poem-sculpting August 10, 2015
I’m sculpting an image of you
molding and twisting clay into your likeness.
You emerge from mud as a miniature relief
and I sigh that I remember your face at all.
I’m sculpting you, creating who I wish you were
You emerge determined to be yourself,
no matter my intentions.
In the end, clay is inadequate for both of us.
poem-lost July 29, 2015
Small voice calling;
creatures crawling.
Hopes are falling.
She’s left bawling,
Must stop lolling
and start hauling.
poem- critics July 24, 2015
The ground squirrels have been offering endless entertainment
Daily theatre of gamboling fun with whistle accompaniment.
First I saw a lady with a trap
Then all the ground squirrels were gone.
End of the play.
Critics are deadly.
Shawn L. Bird 