Weather,
when in Calgary
changes her clothes
with the dizzying
rapidity of a thirteen year old
trying to figure out
what to wear to the school dance,
then rushes off
leaving chaos in her wake.
poem-there
There
in that alley
was the beginning
of dreams
of possibility
of wishes.
There
in that alley
was where imagining
became the tool
for all that was to be.
There
in that alley
was the first place
I was me.
poem-scribble August 8, 2014
This unending line
describes a metaphor for life,
our unending spinning through
the routines of daily life,
dark moments where we’ve
gotten stuck in a groove,
and there,
where it leaves the paper,
departure for
another plane.
.
.
.
.
(This might be fun to try as a shape poem)
poem-missing August 7, 2014
Three thirty-three in the morning
I awaken, drenched in sweat.
I turn on the fan,
waiting for sleep to return
wishing that you were beside me.
poem-coloured bird August 4, 2014
You are a paper peacock
morphing into something new
lines blurring blue
sky, scarlet, golden paint
make me fly.
.
A poetry prompt from http://catherinemjohnson.wordpress.com/2014/08/04/poetry-prompt-bird
poem-migraine August 3, 2014
Claws in the hall,
a staccato jack hammer,
burrow into my brain.
The A/C unit
roars and reverberates
in my skull.
Dull morning light
pierces through my eyelids
burning like a laser.
A storm roils
in my stomach washing up waves of
star studded agony.
Heat washes over, steam rises.
A freezing blizzard follows.
Desperately I seek
the peaceful
oblivion of sleep.
.
.
.
(Not having a good day!)
poem-tired August 1, 2014
I need new pyjamas.
The effort of hunting through stores
hurts my head.
I have fabric, thread, pattern
and machines.
It’d only take an hour to make,
But just taking
the serger out of the box
seems too great a challenge.
I think finishing my last novel
was more exhausting than
it seemed.
poem-tangled
You are a
panther of poesy
lithely elucidating
your erudition,
stalking grandiloquence,
vaulting verbiage in your
versification
until you are
a kitten tangled
in tautology.
poem-when July 31, 2014
It was a moment,
a frozen smile
caught forever.
A photograph
recording you
as I longed for
you to be.
A moment when
happiness pushed
away illness and
illuminated
all our dreams
poem-daggers July 30, 2014
If you think
the new guy
loves you for you
perhaps it’s just that
he hasn’t noticed yet,
who you really are?
Have you sliced him yet
with those word daggers,
eviscerating his affections,
hacking out his heart,
and bleeding out
years of devotion?
Have you belittled him
in front of family,
friends, and children,
torn him into pieces,
crushed his spirit,
and pushed him to despair?
Not yet?
We’ll give it time.
Eventually
he’ll know you
for the daggers
in your smile.
.
.
.
.
“Where we are, There’s daggers in men’s smiles: the near in blood, The nearer bloody.”
MacBeth II.iii.
Shawn L. Bird 