He pays the toll
peck east
peck west
She’s the vehicle for
this journey
over-heavy for the road
burdened by billboards
Her engine rattles,
clanks,
thuds
down the road.
The convoy carries on
taking
a toll.
poem- not tree July 13, 2014
T h i s i s a
t
e
e
.
.
.
(Snicker. Sometimes I do things just to amuse myself. Ignore me).
poem- tree
T h i s i s a
t
r
e
e
.
.
(with apologies to Joyce Kilmer, who’s right, ’cause it isn’t as lovely as the real thing)
poem- dancing
She wouldn’t dance.
But still
he spun her in circles
twisted her arms
flipped her over
spun her again
’til she was dizzy.
And yet
she wouldn’t dance.
poem-bursting July 12, 2014
Yesterday
she was a closed bud
Today
she’s burst into pink frills
dusted with yellow
streaked with purple.
Tomorrow
she may fade
but today
she is a glory.
poem on Acton Scott Traditional Farm fence
I was pleased to submit this poem to a cool project!
Acton Scott Farm in Shropshire England has a resident poet called Jean Atkin running a fascinating poetry project that she outlines on her blog: http://actonscottfarmpoet.wordpress.com/ Check it out!
Love those beautiful Shire horses!
I’d love a trip to England to visit the farm. If you’re a little closer than Western Canada, you should go! 🙂
poem-silence July 11, 2014
She fills the sky
with a rainfall of words,
a hurricane of syllables,
a thundering of sentences.
She brews a storm,
but he stands impermeable
in silent eloquence
amid her eye.
poem-timeless July 10, 2014
On this
summer day,
lost in you,
I see no end.
.
.
.
This poem is my 1500th post! 🙂
There are a few ways to read this one, each painting a slightly different picture.
poem- changes July 9, 2014
The day after she turned fifty,
She found four spider veins
She was sure weren’t there
when she was forty-nine.
poem- hot July 8, 2014
In dead of winter
when I am bundled in sweaters,
nursing hot chocolate
and shivering,
I will remember
sliding open the back door today
and how I was hit with a wall of air
so hot my finger tips feel
they’re glowing like ET’s.
In the meantime,
I’m grateful for a/c
and find typing with
molten finger tips
very interesting.
.
.
.
Shawn L. Bird 