Yarn
strung along
twisting, wrapped,
dropped, turned,
knit, purl
Entanglement
is what brings
comfort.
Poem- oh September 14, 2014
My gaze settles
on a dimpled grin
eyes laughing
amid the crowded din
Your eyes find mine
grow hooded,
and your smile
stretches languidly.
The din disappears
as we spin a web
between us.
Who is spider?
Who is fly?
poem- chess September 5, 2014
The only way to win
a chess game with a master
is never to make the move
he expects you to make.
poem-pudding on the premier September 4, 2014
“Who stole the bowl of pudding
I made for dessert?”
“He did!” said the chocolate coated child, pointing at
her baby brother, quietly kicking his feet in the jolly jumper.
“.
“Who is stalling contract
negotiations?”
“They are!” said the chocolate coated premier, pointing
at the teachers quietly carrying their pickets.
.
Some lies
are easier to spot
than others.
.
(Seriously Premier, why would anyone forfeit thousands of dollars of salary unless it was for something of tremendous value- like defending The Charter of Rights and Freedoms? We’re not going to give up our rights under the law! We won twice at the Supreme Court! We won’t sign a clause that says if you lose again, you won’t have to follow the justice’s decision!
poem-smoke September 1, 2014
You are smoke
You wind your lies
Through the crowds
Til they are choking and gasping
Then you fade away and
blame the sick
that they are ill.
.
.
.
Just in case you’re tired of my Teachers’ Strike posts, here’s one that, while I know is about the strike and the misrepresentations of government spin doctors, at least it seems as if it could be about a variety of situations. 🙂
poem-leaving August 31, 2014
The trucks are packed
tight with boxes and furniture.
You’re off to The Big City for university,
to earn the final credentials to begin your career.
.
Sorry to hear about the flat tire on the Coquihalla Highway, kid.
.
.
.
The Coquihalla Highway connects the interior of BC with the Lower Mainland and Greater Vancouver. It is a high mountain pass.
poem- oasis August 30, 2014
Small oasis.
Forest of calm
amid desiccating storm.
Drop of water.
Rest.
poem-closer August 25, 2014
Some days
I can’t get close enough
to you.
I want to wrap
your skin around me
and hear our hearts
beat, blood bound,
against each other.
poem- love is August 23, 2014
You are riding 140 km
on your bicycle this morning.
Upon your return
I have promised to have
fresh baked oatmeal raisin cookies
waiting for you.
.
.
How’s this for timing? Hubby comes up the stairs, stumbling a bit after pedalling 142.5 km, just as I pulled the first cookie sheet out of the oven. He was a happy man.
Shawn L. Bird 