He needs a bed,
and she has one,
so she welcomes him to it,
and he lies.
poem-awkward January 5, 2015
He needs a bed,
and she has one,
so she welcomes him to it,
and he lies.
poem-wishes January 4, 2015
She wishes
he were the sort of man
who wears a fedora
with his jeans,
but has learned not
to expect so much
from a farm boy.
poem- almost January 3, 2015
When you think
that you’re finished,
that all the Ts are crossed
and the Is are dotted,
that every word is brilliant,
that the reader will be on the edge
of her seat from first page to last,
then you submit your work to your editor,
Who shows you
that you’re wrong.
poem-choosing January 2, 2015
I sift and skim
reflecting:
Are you strong enough?
Are you fresh enough?
Words combined and aligned
into sensation and celebration
Are you vibrant enough?
Are you true enough?
I sift and skim,
selecting.
.
.
.
Today I am working through a collection of poetry that’s been sorted once by theme, then by non-poets for accessability. Now I’m trying to find the very best to submit for publication. I have to weed out half. It’s a challenge! I feel sad for the ones I pitch. 😉
poem- palettes January 1, 2015
Today’s sight
is a palette of black and white.
Today’s dichotomy
will be tomorrow’s
possibility
poem- new to you December 31, 2014
Whatever is tied up in this gift
unwrap it joyfully.
Pull out difficulty, challenge, and struggle;
laugh at the lessons you’re learning.
Celebrate what has been and what will be
Celebrate what is now and what will be
Celebrate you.
Celebrate me.
Celebrate
what
will
be.
Each day is a gift
New for you to
Celebrate.
poem-ready
She’s reached the end of her rope
and she’s swinging hard,
pumping her legs for maximum height,
fury fueling her flight.
She’s aiming for the edge
she’s leaping into space
and she’s grabbing on the way down.
When she lands,
she’s crushing injustice beneath her feet.
and throwing up her hands,
in victory.
.
.
Been editing tonight. Just getting to the end of the story, when the downtrodden heroine seizes power… 😉
poem- try December 30, 2014
You’ve been published in the Malahat Review?
Oh. That’s great. Congratulations.
You’ve been published in the Fiddlehead?
Oh. That’s great. Congratulations.
You’ve been published in the Queen’s Quarterly?
Oh. That’s great. Congratulations.
You’ve been published in the New Yorker?
Oh. That’s great. Congratulations.
You’ve been published in the Literary Review?
Oh. That’s great. Congratulations.
I wish I could say that.
Well, no I’ve never submitted to any of them.
Oh?
Wait.
I should because I could?
Oh.
.
.
Message of the moment. Frequently, the only difference between you and the people who’ve reached the success you aim for is effort and persistence.
and talent.
and luck.
😉
poem- travels December 29, 2014
Anew
you are printed,
packaged
addressed,
journeying to a distant place
unfolding before distant eyes
to be judged
and found worthy
or not.
In time,
you may find
a measure of fame
or fortune between
the pages of some book
but for now
you are just
another manuscript
off in the mail.
.
.
(Sending off a short story to a local ‘prestigious’ writing contest. The story was short listed a couple of months ago in a contest worth twice the prize money, so who knows? These things are so subjective.)
poem- oft December 28, 2014
In time
oft heard
silent memories
mingle in the mist
In time
oft mentioned
mysteries dance
upon your tongue.
In time
oft discovered
dreams twist destinies
toward truth.
In time
oft wished
entwined desires
develop into twin
devastations.
Shawn L. Bird 