Shawn L. Bird

Original poetry, commentary, and fiction. All copyrights reserved.

poem- seen and not heard January 22, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:41 am
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Murmuring voices

racing around me, vacuum engine growl,

white noise.

Words without meaning.

Sound without sense.

There you are.

Your mouth moves,

but I can not hear you

anymore.

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poem- noise November 29, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:12 am
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Wherever I put you

you erupt in explosions of sound

You are a Tower of Babel

oblivious (or indifferent) to the distraction you are.

The constant cries sound like

See me! me! me!

It’d be nice if you looked at others for a while,

perhaps they need to be seen, too.

 

 

poem-summer noise July 26, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:34 am
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Oh, if only those

air conditioner fans would stop

then I could listen to

the summer serenading

of the frogs.

 

poem-squirrel rant August 23, 2014

Filed under: Poetry,Uncategorized — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:14 am
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That squirrel

is ranting like a

furious squeaky toy.

Ten minutes of

castigating harangue

from the willow tree

and no audience but me.

Sometimes

it’s not about a solution;

it’s just about

being heard.

 

poem- modern inconvenience July 5, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:23 pm
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The panorama of lake and hills

lies peacefully before me.

The  susurration of wind

the patter of rain on

leaves and pine needles

is mountain music.

Heaven on earth

marred by

that incessant RV A/C.*

.

.

.

*Recreational Vehicle Air Conditioning

 

OMG it just turned off!   (and the very next minute the music started.  Sigh).

 

poem- putting a roof on it May 5, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:17 am
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The early morning knock

is answered with blurry eyes.

A too bright face asks if

a vehicle needs out of the garage.

The stomping above our heads

jarring us to wakefulness,

makes this so much more

Monday

than usual.

Large trucks high centre on

our steep driveway, whirling tires

Asphalt is scraped, rasping. 

Scraping, scouring off the shingles.

Thudding as they hit the ground.

This Monday morning,

Coffee is required.

I’m leaving for work early.

This is too much Monday

for me.

 

poem- tonight April 24, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:25 am
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Tonight

walking to the mailbox

I am stalked by mist

The lights blink through

the neighbours trees:

stars above,

down town below.

It’s so black between the lamps,

I expect deep quiet,

beneath the rustle of new leaves,

but the highway hums in the distance.

Trucks travel with an insistent drone

that climbs the hill to my house,

and silence suffers

in the hustle of their incessant transitions.

 

 

 

 
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