It is a wearisome year
Each new day weighs heavier
than yesterday.
poem- pandemic life December 2, 2020
It is a wearisome year
Each new day weighs heavier
than yesterday.
poem-the dog peeks out of the blankets November 26, 2020
The alarm. Snooze hit five times.
The feet unsteady.
The eyes blur the room.
Shoulders ache.
Ankle twinge.
Tired. So tired.
A good day to stay inside.
Light a fire.
Bake something to take
pandemic weariness away,
But the mask is on
Happy face
the work day
awaits.
poem- Yay! It’s Friday! November 24, 2020
First thought upon waking–
elation.
With consciousness–
crash.
Tuesday.
.
Pandemic tension
daily trauma
viral hide and seek
Trench warfare,
wearing us down.
Dreaming of weekend leave,
Before the return to mud.
poem-heavenly November 15, 2020
It should be dark.
The sun is down.
Moon glow illuminates
a snow glazed world.
Silent night.
Holy light.
poem- this is love November 13, 2020
The scrape of the snow shovel begins
just as my alarm rings.
The snow is heavy and ankle deep.
You should take my vehicle today, he says.
The studded tires stick to the road.
This is the safer route.
Be careful!
He doesn’t say I love you,
but I know it
anyway.
poem-putting up the Christmas lights November 8, 2020
We’re going to wrap the outside tree.
Just round and round
says he,
but these are different colours
we should go up and down to mix,
she suggests too tentatively.
So now the tree is half one
half the other.
Divided territories,
instead of blended harmony.
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(Just a poem about what went on today as hubby and I put up the lights, and suddenly I’m reading it now and seeing it as a rather profound metaphor- also- where the heck did that rhyme come from? >shrug< Poetry, eh? It does its own thing!)
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poem-then they peeled back their faces November 5, 2020
then they peeled back their faces
Read this
you said to me.
I poured over words
with the focus of any girl
trying to impress her crush.
Oh, how the story spoke hidden horror!
Everyone in disguise.
No one revealing their true selves.
Forty years meditating on those masks.
2020! Society in masquerade!
Kindness, care, concern: all fake.
The true horror’s been revealed.
poem- leaving the keys for the new owners October 15, 2020
The house echoes.
Drapes she made hang on the windows,
the last pieces of her here,
except
the lingering scent of bread baked
months ago, as
her last messages of appreciation,
her last independent acts.
Poem- Stinky socks cinquains October 2, 2020
(These were fun demos written with my students as we worked through some poetry devices on “Poetry Friday-the Wednesday edition”)
Super stinky socks
So easily knee socks crease
Stinky socks stick to my shoes
They slurp when I pull them out.
But say! My socks still rock!
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Socks are mittens for feet
Comfort like a warm fire in winter.
My wooly socks hug my feet
My silent shout of happiness
declares my stinky socks the finest perfume in the world.
I like my socks.
(Can you find assonance, alliteration, consonance, hyperbole internal rhyme, metaphor, onomatopoeia, oxymoron, personification, simile, and understatement?)
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Shawn L. Bird 