Row on row
books rest, wise and eager
waiting for a hopeful reader
Someone seeking information
or an escape into fiction.
In racks and stacks
new worlds await
and the library is the gate.
poem-colour October 29, 2014
“I appreciate
how you’re always
so colourful,” my colleague said,
echoing words I’ve heard before
Sometimes I feel
like a rainbow
in a gray scale world.
Or the one colourized character
in a black and white film.
Someone has
brighten dreary days,
and add vividness to boring views.
It could be you,
but it’s me.
.
poem-synesthesia October 28, 2014
I feel the light crawling
on my skin, burrowing in
and out through the pores,
illuminating my blue bones.
I see the glow of your pain
woven in the strands of my muscles,
stretched and aching like a long line
of scarlet soldiers dragging guns and stabbing bayonets.
I hear the purple shimmer of your displeasure,
Flashing gold anger explodes up my body
in shrieking tsunami waves.
I taste darkness and agony.
I smell the rainbow of your discontent.
I am you and we are
sensational.
poem-paranoia
A cut black silhouette
oozing around corners
hovering at windows.
I feel your gaze drilling
between my shoulder blades.
You vanish when I turn
but I glimpse your intent.
Your presence smothers
sparks of happiness.
Wariness wears tears
in the fabric of my composure,
devouring me in shadows.
.
.
Written during the Reach Out Psychosis assembly at my school.
poem-vicious October 26, 2014
Gathering evil intentions
Hell hath no fury
for
what will people say
behind your back?
Consent.
Safe words.
He said.
She said.
You’re high on a pedestal
Scorned lovers
can be vicious,
Even if they’re crazy.
It’s not the falling off
the tall pillar that hurts,
it’s the sudden stop
at the
end.
poem- Sunday
Dirty clothes piled in the bath room,
Plates and projects in the living room
Books piled in the dining room
Clean laundry 4 feet high in the dressing room.
Everywhere there’s work to do
and I just want to cuddle you.
poem-sacrifice
An Argyll and Sutherland Highlander’s
simple service:
honour guard,
in respectful silence, stand proud
beneath a towering arch,
the bronze visages of
the nation’s memorial to those
fallen in foreign wars,
Keeping faith at the tomb
of the unknown soldier,
Clad in kilt and jacket,
green as the fields of France,
red and white stockings over
shining white spats,
bronze warriors towering above
wept
as one of Princess Louise’s Highlanders
fell.
.
.
.
This poem references the powerful political cartoon by Bruce MacKinnon drawn in the aftermath of the shooting of Corporal Nathan Cirillo (a reservist with the Argylls and Sutherland Highlanders) on Parliament Hill in Ottawa, October 22, 2014:
Here is Corp Cirillo guarding the national war memorial:
The Argylls and Sutherland Highlanders of Canada on parade.
(I thought I was just posting links to original sites, but the images are showing up. Copyright remains with original sources).
poem-contact October 23, 2014
Communication is so easy
Facebook, Twitter, text, phone
a million ways to message instantly:
No excuses for
your silence.
.
.
(I could also have entitled this, “Call Your Mother!”) 😉
Shawn L. Bird 
