As long as
I desire you at bedtime
and you desire me upon waking,
I think it will work out.
zinnia night July 2, 2013
Black night around us
you slice into my dream
and I see zinnias:
exploding fireworks,
vivid petals raining down,
Colouring our embrace.
on being thoroughly mused June 30, 2013
For Outlander author Diana Gabaldon:
.
You
were not
just kissed
by the muse,
Diana, huntress,
goddess of the moon.
You were ravaged.
You were embraced;
your buttocks clutched
and hoisted high,
as the muse impaled you,
roughly pierced your soul,
raised hairs the whole length of you.
Seized by such divine inspiration,
you stretched, back arching,
and received the pulsing
thrusts of
.
w
o
r
d
s
,
w
o
r
d
s
,
w
o
r
d
s.
.
Excruciating
ecstasy
that called forth
rippling quivers,
left you heaving,
complete,
replete,
and pregnant
with story.
.
.
This post began with a random comment made on Diana Gabaldon’s Facebook page yesterday, and here we are! My first erotica! ((blush)) lol
.
For those who wondered, yes, Diana has seen this, and I even have a recording of her laughing lustily about it, as we were wrapping up our blue pencil at SIWC 2013. 🙂 Her comment, should you not be able to read the image is, “Wow! That’s a GREAT poem Shawn! I’m truly honoured #mindIusuallyhavetodomoreofthework”
In August 2013 she dedicated her Daily lines to me:
The daily lines in question can be read here:
http://www.twitlonger.com/show/n_1rlp46l
And if you’re a fan of Outlander and are now watching the TV series, you may enjoy the poem Dear Sam Heughan from August 2013 when Sam was first cast to play Jamie: Diana has seen this one as well, and coached me through some necessary vocabulary alterations (see notes at the end). 😉
ocean angels June 17, 2013
You are a poem
that only angels know.
You move with the ocean’s pulse
waves kissing the shore
twice a day,
touching sky,
swelling with promise.
You are a poem
only the angels know,
but I am listening
for your words
on the wind,
reaching to catch
the rhythm,
in the rolling tide,
stretching to hear
the angels whisper.
You are a poem
I long to know.
summer comes June 9, 2013
Summer comes
on breaths of
scent drenched air.
Blossoms,
beaches,
and vibrant beauty
enticing an
inhaled happiness,
beckoning the season of
freedom.
disco bird June 6, 2013
Starling:
speckled iridescence
disco strutting along the highway,
bobbing to the beat.
I hear your music.
You make me wanna
♦ d a n c e ! ♦
Yes June 1, 2013
Yes,
you said,
We will.
Yes,
you said,
I will.
Yes,
you said,
We should.
Yes,
you said,
I could.
Yes,
you said,
We would.
Yes,
you said,
I do.
seeds of longing May 26, 2013
your breath
drifts across my nostrils
soft as dandelion dreams,
floats past my ears
whispering mystic riddles,
touches my lips
with promised kisses,
lingers like laughter
o’er our tomorrow.
.
.
Pondering workshop advice from Garry Gottfriedson at Word on the Lake. “Love poems should use soft sounds,” and “never mention the word love…”
loneliness May 25, 2013
Snail subsisting
in solitary
travel trailer
inhales oily hair.
Magenta imagination
strikes a stuttering sibilance.
This journey is
long,
lingering,
loneliness.
.
.
A poem crafted in a workshop with Gary Gottfriedson at Word on the Lake 2013. (Having a great time! Wish you were here!)
The brief: 10 lines with rich imagery; include senses, an amazing verb, and a colour; avoid clichés.
listen May 24, 2013
I am here
to listen.
I want to savour each word
of the story you create
to make meaning of the world.
I am here
to listen.
I want your words to come
clear on the air
to my ear,
each one a gift.
I want to listen
So speak your passion
in whispers and shouts
enunciated
truncated
dissipated
like leaves in fall
wisked away by wind.
I want to capture each one
so your story
becomes part of my story,
so I can raise my voice
sing my song,
tell my tale.
We share together:
I am;
hear.
.
.
Tonight I was at the Shuswap Association of Writers Coffee House, presented annually in conjunction with Word on the Lake Festival of Readers and Writers. I heard some amazing writers and poets read, some were easier to appreciate than others. I like when the poet savours his/her words, and crafts the reading like a performance piece, so you can experience the poem. I dislike when a poet tosses off meaningless dribble, and then explains it, and the explanation is a better poem than the poem, itself. Bad form, famous poet, bad form. There was great stuff to enjoy, though, as there always is.
Shawn L. Bird 