Glance
Flash
Crash
Trance
Romance
Lasts
poem-loon laughter July 21, 2014
Ghostly calls across the lake
loons declaiming poetry
its harmonic tones drowned
by strident laughter
in the cabin next door
from a less musical loon.
.
On the right of the photo, the two small white dots on the water are the loons.
Poem- What I learned
What I learned about you:
- you did not hang the stars
- you did not shave the moon
- you did not fuel the sun
- you make me super nova
- you make me new each months
- you make me shine
What I learned about us:
- we’re celestial
- we’re changing
- we’re burning
poem-time July 20, 2014
I remember you: new
baby powder smell
tiny ears like velvet
cries like a lamb
and here is your
baby daughter
in my arms.
poem-lake love July 19, 2014
Here,
listening to the loons,
with you,
is a precious moment
of forever.
.
poem- triage
Are you breathing?
Are you beating?
Are you bleeding?
Are you broken?
.
Breathless
Heart pounding
Blood surging
In pieces
.
Do they
hospitalize
for
Love?
poem-dropping July 18, 2014
Two hundred
ninety-
eight
souls
rise
as
two
hundred
ninety-
eight
bodies
fall
from
the
sky.
.
.
.
Malaysian Airliner shot down over the Ukraine. Another tragedy.
poem-drowning July 15, 2014
Word came
that the ship was lost:
No survivors.
Her beloved
perished amid a storm
In her dreams
she sees him
swimming
swimming
swimming
swimming
swimming
swimming
swimming
sinking
sinking
sinking
drifting
drifting
drifting
on her
tears.
.
.
.
.
.
.
I suppose this could be about Echo in the Bone by Diana Gabaldon, but in fact, it came from listening to The Lost Wife by Alyson Richman. It also reminds me of a family story.
My grandfather was a ship captain on the St. Lawrence Seaway. One day, a knock came on the door, and my grandmother was told gravely that his ship had sunk, and he was lost. This would no doubt have been far more traumatic, had grandpa not been sitting in the living room at the time.
poem-trysts
In quiet corners
obsession lingers
eyes stuck tight
while passion flames.
Wrapped in arms,
stroked, caressed,
paper thin
each moment savoured
with lingering longings
until with sighs,
the last
page is turned.
.
.
.
(Always so sad when a great book comes to an end)
Shawn L. Bird 