I am awoken (What now?!)
by roaring outside
rasping, growling, rushing creature.
Oh, damn, I think, as I return to sleep.
The plow.
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-Wednesday September 13, 2017
I woke to my alarm’s
jaunty greeting, lay lulled, wondering where you were,
until I found the sense of you, pressed against my shoulder blades.
I lay, enjoying the warm weight of you,
until the alarm started up again.
It meant it this time.
So, regretfully,
I pulled away from you,
buried my face in your warm belly,
said farewell as you stretched and smiled up at me.
Wednesday will be a long day apart,
but I will return,
and you’ll be waiting,
eagerly.
.
.
.
(a little homage to my canine companion!)
poem- morning October 28, 2016
Good morning
dull day
grey day
full day
Good morning
dark day
play day
work day
Good morning
poem- crows October 3, 2016
The yard is speckled
with black spots
as if a coal train tipped on a fast corner
and sprayed lumps.
Twenty or thirty have spread out and bob
in search of hidden meals
or trouble
as is the nature of crows.
They’re strangely silent this morning,
like blurry eyed truckers
who’ve driven all night
and just want some breakfast
before the day begins.
Poem- Easter Monday aubade April 6, 2015
Last night
you woke in horror.
“What is it?” I asked.
You shivered, “A nightmare,
one of the worst I’ve had.”
“Can you tell me about it?”
I asked sleepily.
“No,” you said. “I can’t think about it.”
“Am I ever in your nightmares?”
You pondered for a long time.
“No,” you finally said. “Never.”
“Then come closer,” I said,
“I will protect you.”
In the morning, you are gone,
but you have left behind
the sighs of your security
in my arms.
.
.
Today http://www.napowrimo.net prompt is to write an aubade. I am particularly fond of aubades. They are the opposite of a serenade. In a serenade, the lover is trying to entice into the beloved’s bed; in an aubade the morning has come, and the lover must depart. I wrote one last year (or before?) that I’m sure WordPress will link to beneath this post. You may enjoy that one, too. I was quite proud of it.
poem- companionable November 29, 2014
I wake to
the gentle snores
and the warm back
of my canine companion,
whose black eyes blink
and sleepy tail thumps once
as I caress his white wooly side.
poem-lying September 21, 2014
I wake
to feel you lying
stretched along
the length of me.
I reach out my hand
and find not flesh
but fur.
You have been replaced
by canine devotion.
.
.
.
.
This is an interesting example of ‘living poetry.’ People ask how I can come up with a poem every day, and I say I see them everywhere. This morning, completely dazed with sleep, this happened, I muzzily composed this poem as I reflected on the surprise, and then fell back to sleep. When I finally got up, there it was, ready to share.
Shawn L. Bird 