Shawn L. Bird

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

poem-decisions November 10, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:59 pm
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Silent chatter

clattering through her mind,

shouting thoughts,

whispered shrieks,

speaking do

don’t

do

don’t.

Can it be?

Will it be?

Should it be?

Yes.

No.

Make it so.

Stuttering possibility

silently.

 

Concussed September 14, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:20 pm
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This concussion is a constriction

squeezing my head like a snake

hugging my eyes closed.

Light pressure. Dark daylight.

Just a little inconvenience.

 

poem-flying February 8, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:41 pm
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Fleance dreams of flight,

soaring on outstretching wings

into a moonlit night,

No day trips for him, he’s heard things

about flying too near the sun.

Day is for escape, for climbing,

Peaks ascending, journeys begun,

At sunset (it’s all about the timing)

he leaps into red glowing,

falls on moon rise

spreads his wings, catches winds flowing

embraces skies,

Wonders at all he does espy

and murmurs “Fly, Good Fleance! Fly!”

 

poem-see June 12, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:28 am
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See the twisting silence

weaving between them;

pursed lips, downcast eyes,

See their knot tighten

further together, closer apart.

 

poem- extra-sensory perception September 14, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:33 pm
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I see through poet’s eyes

life recorded in metaphor

ideas dancing with possibilities.

I hear through poet’s ears

the humming of memory

the clatter of change

the sibilance of serenity

I touch through poet’s hands

hard thoughts,

rough realities,

soft dreams.

I smell through a poet’s nose

freshly mown hay of a summer day

leaves burning in an autumn evening

I taste through a poet’s tongue

the sourness of betrayals

the sweetness of hope

The poet has an infinity of senses

that reach into history

and unravel mysteries.

 

poem- Mom

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 6:46 pm
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Today is my mom’s 86th birthday, so I wrote her a poem:

.

My mother is a sewing machine

Stitching life together like a quilt.

She can make anything grow

as the needle whirs and punctures

Creating history.

 

poem- embracing fireworks September 13, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:48 am
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When you wrapped me in that warm embrace

fireworks exploded in my brain

red and purple stars shot from my head and lit the room.

Incandescent memories are the after image

of our fragmentary connection.

.

.

.

A couple of days ago, I wrote about another lost poem.  I’m happy to say that poem was found!  This is it!  A glance at a picture sparked the memory, and it came back!  It’s not quite as it was, since the 3rd/final line of the original didn’t return, but I am satisfied with the cinquain it became. 🙂

 

 
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