This is a wonderful poem by Sarah Kay, about romance between ‘two unlikely objects’ specifically a toothbrush and bicycle tire. So poignant and clever.
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sometimes (a Rule of 3 poem) May 19, 2013
Sometimes
I look at you
changing the tires on my car,
pushing a mower around my mother’s yard,
pruning (really badly) the trees at home,
and I think my heart will explode.
Sometimes
I listen to you
laughing riotously at a scene on TV,
playing Goldberg Variations on the piano,
snoring (very loudly) in bed at night
and I think my heart will explode
Sometimes
I touch you
entwining arms around you,
stretching onto the tips of my toes
kissing (quite passionately) whatever my lips reach
and I think my heart will explode.
.
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There you go. That’s Diana Gabaldon’s Rule of Three happening in a poem! 🙂 What would make my heart finally explode? If he would only wear his kilt while doing any of the above! lol
paper love May 15, 2013
I covet little papers
Adorned with your precise handwriting
Conveying adoration
Enumerating my suitability.
I covet little papers
You laugh at the saccharin sentimentality
Contrived emotionality
of your romantic immaturity
I covet little papers
Embarrassing legacy of first feeling
Precious pieces of paper
declaring what is now history
I covet little papers
memories of what was dreamt of then
A future that came true
Recorded for posterity
I covet little papers
of what you declared so long ago
promises then are the actions
of our long domesticity.
Poem for T A May 9, 2013
Who you are
is who you are
and you are perfect
as you are.
.
The reality of
who you are
is your reality,
and you are perfect
as you are.
.
The complications of
who you are
are a reality.
So?
You are
complicated,
that’s perfect, too.
.
When you embrace
all you are,
each complicated
component of your reality,
others will embrace it, too,
because you are perfectly
complicated,
and complicated
is really cool.
.
Who you are
is who you are
and you are perfect
as you are.
Dam fine day May 8, 2013
Today I watched beavers
busily engaged in beaver chores:
swimming the branches to the lodge
packing mud in the dam
waddling from one pond to another.
A rodent family at work,
improving their neighbourhood
thinning the trees that keep out the sun
and improving water habitat.
It was worth
the blisters and the swollen feet
now soaking in Epsom salts.
.
.
News article about this beaver family:
http://www.saobserver.net/news/138054823.html
A youtube video about habitat restoration by beavers:
Poem- Cold night stars May 6, 2013
‘Neath Cold night stars
that come undone
they glow afar
new life begun.
Breathe, you’re alive!
Ignore the scars
Rain washes sighs
making time ours
new life begun
‘neath cold night stars.
Poem: You’re Dead (pt. 2) May 5, 2013
You’re dead.
My head
a kharmic muddle
I mull upon
morality,
your despair,
a pall
wrapped ’round
mortality.
You’re dead.
(Still trying to wrap my head around the murder/suicide last week of a kid I knew and worried about).
Poem: You’re dead May 4, 2013
You’re dead.
You’ve bled
a carmine puddle
that pooled and
dripped down
the road,
drained
under my door
and into
my head.
Trust time May 3, 2013
It gets better.
Whatever pressure
is crushing you,
whatever frustrations
are tearing you apart,
will end.
Permanent solutions
to temporary problems
are a waste
of who you could be.
Don’t take drastic actions
when patience could prevail
and provide purpose
for the brilliant future
you deserve.
Whatever burdens you,
buries you,
bullies you,
will end.
Call for help
It’s here.
Hold hope in your hands.
Give your future a chance.
Trust time to release you
from pain,
not death.
.
.
In an exercise of hope, I wrote this in present tense, though it is a letter to a brilliant young man who once sat in my class room, and sadly did not trust time: so much potential, crushed by despair, frustration and anger. I am mourning the loss of his shadowed light in our world. It only needed time for it to shine brilliantly, but he did not wait to see.
Fluevog addict? May 2, 2013
Apparently,
someone arrived at my blog
yesterday, having used
the search term
“Fluevog addict.”
Ouch.
That seems a little harsh.
Addict?
Really?
Couldn’t we just say
“aficionato?”
or “connoisseur?”
Addict?
Come on now.
That’s definitely over-stating.
Seriously.
.
Um.
Did I tell you?
To celebrate my Master’s placement
I have Prepared Hi Steadies coming ?
Aren’t they gorgeous?
Way cheaper than a party to celebrate,
and I get to enjoy them for ages!
years!
Rather than a single evening.
That’s not addiction.
That’s just…
happiness.
😉
Oh, and
John Fluevog thinks I’m awesome!
So there.
.
(Well fine, he probably thinks you’re awesome, too)
.
.
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PS>
Fluevog liked this poem so much, that they sent me a mug! Yay! 🙂 They know how to feed their addic… >>cough<< …fans. Many thanks to Preet at the Vancouver Granville Fluevog store, who takes good care of me, AND sends me presents! (If you look closely, you can see that the mug says “Juan Fluevog” I think that’s hilarious. Vog humour. HA!)
Shawn L. Bird 