your breath
drifts across my nostrils
soft as dandelion dreams,
floats past my ears
whispering mystic riddles,
touches my lips
with promised kisses,
lingers like laughter
o’er our tomorrow.
.
.
Pondering workshop advice from Garry Gottfriedson at Word on the Lake. “Love poems should use soft sounds,” and “never mention the word love…”
You rise from the basement
like Venus rising from the ocean,
your underwear in your hand,
modestly hiding the assets,
like Venus’s demurely draped hair.
Dripping from your outdoor exertions,
you stand on the carpet–
a modern half-shell–
and your beauty begs for
Botticelli,
but embraces me.
“We will open the book. Its pages are blank. We are going to put words on them ourselves. The book is called Opportunity and its first chapter is New Year’s Day.”
Edith Pierce
Our life is a story. Some are romances, some are adventure stories, some are didactic, some are political thrillers, some are fantasies… What’s yours?
I needed a poem for the English 9 final exam. It needed to fit the theme, and have some poetic devices. After scanning assorted books, I gave up and wrote my own. The title comes from a literal transliteration of eulogy- Good words.
.
If I could
I would
Follow you forever, friend
Through years of fears, of tears.
I’d follow you
Through toys, boys, noise, joys
To poise.
If I could,
I’d follow, friend
But I am as a hollow end.
Be brave,
I am a memory saved
Despite the cave
of grave.
We’re waiting
counting the space between breaths
that stretch the silence
before the next crackling,
static filled gasp
of a soul tuning toward
eternity.
Sun blinded
I squint at a horizon
so bright it can’t be seen.
I walk blythly toward
the brilliance
wondering what lies beyond.
Behind my back
has been brewing
ill wind.
Without warning
a blackened sky
belches uncertainty
and change,
but beyond
the black clouds
blow breaths
of a new day.
Nothing ends
that isn’t a beginning.
The sun is gleaming
so brightly that the snow is blinding.
The future’s so bright I’ve got to wear shades.
Every day another supporter, another booster,
another enthusiastic participant
in the waiting game asks, “WHEN?”
Soon, I assure them. Soon!
A flicker on the computer screen
“I hate to have to tell you…”
and a gleaming dream
is buried in a white out of
black uncertainty.
I don’t know now, I have to tell them
I can’t see anymore.
.
.
80 minutes ago I received word that the publisher for Grace Awakening is closing down in 30 days. Grace was scheduled for release in 240 days. That is 210 days too late, unfortunately. Now we’re back to peddling a manuscript. Poor Grace!
Green monsters pounding down the street
Shooting fire and roaring their helplessness
Small kindnesses are not always mercies
since they don’t mean there is hope
They meant she didn’t care any more.
Green monsters stomping all over you
You could have been keeping a safe distance
Building armour and a fortness of protection for yourself.
Fortresses keep out monsters.
Now you’re weakened from the attack
But the tools are still there.
Build the protection now.
Better late than never to raise the bricks and the sword
so you can stand up for yourself.
You can defeat the monster.
Kitten
batting at a string
that dances just out of reach
planning
pouncing.
She tantalizes,
amused by
your desperate lunges.
She pulls the string
and leaves you grasping
nothing but air
and echoes
of her laughter.
Shawn L. Bird 
slow September 25, 2012
Tags: exhaustion, gladioli, metaphor
I feel like I’m moving in slow motion this week. All sorts of things are happening, and I’m watching them with a dull, glazed head. I have so many things I need to get done in the next couple of weeks, but I am too foggy to concentrate on them.
I’m reading some interesting books, I’m getting lots of exercise, I’m sleeping more than I have in ages. There is no good reason for me to be out of it.
I feel a bit like I am represented by the gladioli on my entry table. They’ve drained their water, and have dried out, but they have formed such interesting, squiggly, abstract shapes, and faded into such an interesting colour that I haven’t had the heart to toss them out! If I get some energy tomorrow, I’ll take a photo so you can see what I mean.
In the meantime, what interesting thing in your house represents you, these days?
As promised, here are my tired glads:
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