Shawn L. Bird

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

poem-sculpting August 10, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:45 am
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I’m sculpting an image of you

molding and twisting clay into your likeness.

You emerge from mud as a miniature relief

and I sigh that I remember your face at all.

I’m sculpting you, creating who I wish you were

You emerge determined to be yourself,

no matter my intentions.

In the end, clay is inadequate for both of us.

 

poem- Mom May 10, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:05 am
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So many mothers:

mine with her great gardening gams

independent and active, just like always,

and I with my empty nest

working, writing, studying and more.

Busyness channeled in different directions,

but independent.

I always said, “I’m raising independent children,”

like my mom

I did my job.

Far away my children lead their independent lives

and only rarely feel the need to call home to update us

on the latest news.

Other mothers,

keep their chicks under their skirts,

want to be involved in every aspect of their lives,

with weekly dinners, frequent phone calls,

dependent interconnectiveness whatever their ages.

‘Not better,

not worse,

Just different’

like the exchange student mantra.

Family is the place you begin.

Family is where they have to take you in.

Family is many things

and there are many mothers.

 

poem-nesting April 2, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 5:33 pm
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The nest is empty

and without the chicks holding them together

some birds fly in different directions.

Job done.

So sad,

for others find the absence of young

brings far more joy in one another

than they could find while struggling

to satisfy the demands of youth.

The empty nest is the next gentle chapter

where romance can thrive again,

when laughing songs of

swooping lovers twitter through

the afternoon air and soft whispers

fill the nights.

 

 

poem- sticks November 4, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:30 am
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As they approach

your relaxed droop stiffens

your body tightens

each cell constricting.

You’re too old for

oppositional defiance

yet you shiver with it.

“Myself!” I hear your

two year old self echoing

through the decades.  “No!”

But look,

this is a time of change,

and nothing changes without effort.

You have experts at your fingertips

and you refuse support and aid

because

Why, exactly?

You were so ready to fly,

and you’ve gone so far,

but now you’re quivering beneath the nest

while the parents flap about squawking

about winter migration,

and that cat on the porch.

You heedlessly tuck you head

beneath your wing

to nap.

 

poem-laughter June 21, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:35 am
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You toddle over,

your two tooth grin wide.

When tapped

upon your button nose

you burst with

belly laughs.

.

.

I met Iona today.  Iona is little, and doesn’t speak yet, but she oozes personality!

 

poem- parents and child February 16, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:52 pm
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What you wanted to be

Everything you wanted to see

Was it you who lied?

Or was it me?

What dreams did you hide

in the tears you cried?

Was it you who lied?

Or was it me?

When your mother sighed

When your father denied

When you tried to foresee

Was it you who lied?

or was it me?

Were we lacking in pride?

Why could you not confide?

We simply could not see

so was it you who lied?

or was it me?

 

poem- mother December 28, 2013

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:22 am
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He said

his mother was dead,

because the gulf

between them

was wide with guilt

and jumping it

was beyond

their capability.

She said

her son was lost

because his choices

marooned him

on an island of his own making

and would not let

anyone in.

They said

their journeys

were in opposite directions

but eventually,

on the other side of the world,

they’re bound to intersect.

 

 
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