Shawn L. Bird

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

poem-preservation June 10, 2019

We need to be respectful

of tender psyches, mental illness,

all the agonies of existence.

We need to be respectful

of our own tenderness

and pained existence.

When being gentle of their tender troubles,

makes aches worse for ourselves,

who needs to respect whom?

Draw battle lines,

or at least find a bastion

against cries

calling you to your destruction,

dragging you to drown in the moat of their fragility.

Be respectful of your own precious sanity.

 

poem- whether September 24, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:16 am
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It couldn’t be, he said, that you are unwilling?

A shrug was the reply.

Do you feel unable?

Another shrug.

You know, he said, it’s always a choice;

if you are willing,

eventually,

you are able.

 

poem-mother January 27, 2015

Grade eight.

Horror.

Mother is her substitute teacher today.

“Do not

acknowledge

that you know me!” she hissed.

But when her name was called for

attendance, and teacher-mother

looked around for

whichever student would raise her hand,

she glowered,

unhappy

with anonymity.

 

 

poem-going November 18, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 6:44 pm
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You’re going and now I think

of all the things that could have been

and all the things that should have been

and all the things that would have been

if only you’d been forthcoming

before you left.

 

poem- ram or roll? November 8, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:26 pm
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Two identical

blazing logs

are ramming together

shooting sparks

with every shot,

neither aware

that they will set the

whole forest on fire

if they do not

stop ramming

and begin rolling

toward the cool waters

of understanding.

 

poem- journeys October 6, 2014

Like a stone on the beach

she picked him up,

and took him home.

He filled her with new life,

and they held companionable

hands, two became four.

Beneath the bubble,  

Poisons devoured him in relentless nibbles,

and the doctor said his only hope

was a healing journey

to a new way of life.

But toward,

is also away,

and children waved good-bye

to their skipping stone,

who crossed an ocean and

disappeared into time.

 

 

poem-fathers October 5, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:23 pm
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I grew up

a pampered princess

a late life arrival, long desired.

I felt my father’s

fondness every day-

a travelling salesman

who never missed a moment

of my active life.

But you

lost your father

along the way, lost sight

of him over the barriers

your mother built between you.

What was it like to find him

as he was dying, knowing

he had never stopped

loving you, though you

were equally lost to him?

Once you found him,

he slipped into eternity.

As I watch you, so

polished at your work,

on this career high,

I wonder,

Are you still a lost boy?

Or did the chance to embrace him

at the end of his life,

to know how proud he was of you,

help ease the sorrow

as you set him free to fly?

I forgive you

for not meeting me for tea

And I wonder,

what kind of father

will you let yourself be?

.

.

(For S&D)

 

 
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