Shawn L. Bird

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

poem-summer July 24, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:31 pm
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Hot day.

The mall is packed.

Swimming lessons need a driver

(kids can’t get anywhere by themselves, after all).

Joggers sweating past.

Gas mower chugs obnoxiously around the yard.

I miss the soft swisha-swisha of dad’s old Rotary mower

when summer was gentler

and filled with children’s laughter.


poem-dance me July 23, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:50 pm
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May have this dance,

owed from fifth grade?

Embrace memory

And wistful wishes.



Paper Town. John Greene.



poem-pebble July 10, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 4:09 pm
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I am but one pebble on the beach of your memory,

but oh how I remember the tides of you,

lapping across the surface of me,

making me shine for a moment,

glinting in the sunlight refracted by your ripples,

toppling me in your surf, ’til I clattered like applause

as you went back out to sea.



poem- rockery January 29, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:52 am
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We played in the rockery

and you always skinned your knees

because adventure was so much better than caution,

and my mother wasn’t likely to smack you

for disturbing the hen and chicks blooming

in the crevices.



poem-sweet January 26, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:41 pm
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It’s unexpected moments

that honey drip from yesterday

crystalizing through today

and crunching in cubes tomorrow.

Sometimes bitter,

mostly sweet.


poem-vacant January 19, 2016

Filed under: Friendship,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:05 pm
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How strange

that this space that was always filled by you

is vacant now.

Some time,

I don’t know when,

you stopped paying rent and disappeared.

Now the corner where you lived

has fallen into disrepair

and when I look for what used to be

I see only

moldy fragments in the space

that was yours.


poem-used to be January 5, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:11 am
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There they used to climb the hill

to escape their parents, and that was

a place of firsts.

First kisses.

First cigarettes.

First adventures.

If only all our hills were so full

of glorious promise.




Had a visit to the local museum with a class.  We learned all sorts of tidbits! 


poem-exorcise December 23, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 6:35 pm
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Pen strokes

Keyboard strikes

Ghosts exorcised by words;

Freedom found from phantoms.

New worlds

opened for exploration.


poem-taped December 17, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:25 pm
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Once upon a time

you sent me cassette tapes in the mail,

one sided conversations taped in the car

on your commute to the radio station,

elucidating the state of our universe

and illuminating that eternity

I was so fond of,

while people glanced from their vehicles,

confused or amused as you talked to yourself

but really me.

Once upon a time,

I talked to you,

but really myself,

elucidating the state of an imaginary universe

that would not become real,

no matter how many words wrapped around it,

or how many miles of magnetic tape professed it.

Once upon a time

we shared a fairy tale,

and when I listen to us now, I wonder that we ever believed

in the intensity of the narrative we told ourselves.


poem-echoes August 16, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:46 am
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I walk on roads I knew.

Familiar houses I name as I pass:

Janet’s house,

Marcie’s house,

Sandy’s house,

Cathy’s house,

Ayesha’s house,

Annette’s house.

I catch glimpses of them playing in their front yards

or waving from their windows,

Though they have not been children for decades.

Their spectral selves run along the sidewalks

and fill the twilight with lost laughter.




It’s eerie visiting in my old neighbourhood.  I can actually see my childhood friends out of the corners of my eyes, but when I look, they’ve vanished.  Have you had this experience?


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